Seaside Kisses: A Sweet Romance (The Seaside Hunters Book 4) by Stacy Claflin Page A

remember."
    She bit her lower lip. "I was shy, and you were Mister Popularity."
    He gave her a curious expression. "Too shy to say hi?"
    Amara shrugged, feeling a bit like she used to back then. She nodded.
    Rafael frowned. "I should have said hi first. It's just that I had the feeling you didn't like me."
    "What?" Amara exclaimed. She took a deep breath. "Truth be told, I adored you. But I was terrified of what I would do if you ever would have called me Four-Eyed Fowler."
    He looked ashamed. "I can't say I never did, Amara, but I swear if I knew how nice you were, I never would have. I'm sorry you never felt you could talk to me."
    She shrugged. "Like you said, I was shy. You hung out with kids who tortured me."
    "Torture?" His eyes widened.
    "Can we talk about something else?" she asked, squirming.
    He held the door open, and a gust of icy wind blew in. "I'm going to wear a scarf," he said. "Do you want one?"
    "Oh, I—"
    "It's on the house. Consider it an apology for anything I did as a stupid teenager." He grabbed her hand, and led her to a different part of the store.
    Butterflies danced in her stomach. She loved the feel of his hand on hers.
    "Pick a scarf. Any of them."
    "Are you sure?" she asked.
    Rafael picked one up a pretty multi-colored one. "This is my top-of-the-line one. I think it'll look gorgeous on you." He held it up to her face. "It does."
    Amara's face burned. "I couldn't."
    "I insist." He pushed her hair back and slid the scarf around her neck, brushing his hands against her cheek and neck. Amara held her breath. He adjusted the scarf and stepped back. "Beautiful."
    She wasn't sure if he meant her or the scarf. She couldn't find the words to thank him for the compliment, so she changed the subject. "I'll accept the gift if you let me pick one out for you."
    "Deal." He nodded.
    Amara found a black one that matched his coat and wrapped it around his neck. Her hands shook the entire time. She hoped he didn't notice. She felt an odd mixture of her current confidence blending with her old insecurity.
    Rafael gazed into her eyes, and they held the contact. Amara wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything that didn't sound lame. She knew her silence wasn't helping her show him that she was no longer the shy nerd, but it was better than saying something stupid since her mouth always ran ahead of her brain.
    He reached for her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. He readjusted the scarf, pulling some hair out from it.
    "Perfect," he whispered.
    She continued staring into his eyes, her heart pounding like a wild stallion. If she knew how he felt about her—if she knew she was picking up the right vibe—Amara would have kissed him herself instead of waiting for him. But with him awake, she wasn't nearly so bold.
    Rafael stepped back. "Are you ready for lunch?"
    Amara released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. She nodded, but she wasn't nearly as hungry as she'd been before entering his shop.
    He went back over to the door and held it open for her again. The icy wind blew into the shop, blowing some papers over. Amara sprinted over and picked them up, stacking them away from the breeze.
    "Thank you," he said, and then locked the door behind them once they were outside.
    Another gust blew before she could reply. She shivered, and then he put his arm around her. Amara warmed instantly, both from his body heat and from the joy of him wrapping himself around her.
    "Does that help?" he asked, his deep voice gentle and near her ear.
    "More than you know." She swallowed.
    "Would you like to take my car?" he asked.
    And have him remove his arm? "We can walk. I'm happy like this."
    "Me, too." He held her a little tighter.
    They made their way to one of the closest restaurants, which was busier than normal for this time of year.
    "Everyone must have had the same idea," Rafael said. "Nothing beats Miss Marjorie's soup on a wintry day." He removed his arm from her shoulder