Some Sort of Happy (Skylar and Sebastian): A Happy Crazy Love Novel by Melanie Harlow Page A

back against it, hands in his pockets. The sunglasses on his face hid his eyes, but he was smiling. “I came to see you.”
    My insides danced a little. “How’d you find me?”
    “I went to the shop. Your sister told me it was your day off and said you might be here.” He glanced over to where I’d been working. “Am I interrupting?”
    “Not at all. I need a distraction, actually.” The kind that happens without pants.
    “Want to show me what you’re working on?”
    “Sure.” Trying to keep my thoughts clean, I led him over to the bookcase and explained what I was doing. “It was my grandfather’s bookcase.”
    “Even better. You have a connection to it.”
    “Yes.” I clasped my hands together and rocked back on my heels. “What are you up to today?”
    He shrugged, dropping his eyes to the ground a moment. “I had to go into town for a few things, but it’s such a nice day, I thought maybe I’d put together those chairs I bought last night and sit on the patio this afternoon.”
    “Sounds nice. It is beautiful today, supposed to hit seventy-five. Can you believe it? In May?” Invite me. Invite me. Invite me.
    He ran a hand over his short hair. “You mentioned wanting to see the cabin. I thought maybe—”
    “I’d love to! Just give me one minute, OK?” Turning around, I went to unplug the sander when I panicked. I faced him again, my lower lip caught between my teeth. “Wait. You were going to ask me to come over, right?”
    He laughed, his face lighting up. He looked so different when he smiled! “Yes. I was.”
    “Whew. OK, good.” I put away the tools, and Sebastian helped me move the bookcase into the guest house, where I snuck away to quickly run a brush through my hair and rinse with mouthwash.
    Not that I was planning on attackissing him again. But maybe he’d take the lead—I’d just do my best to let him know I was interested without being too forward.
    “I like your house,” he said when I came out of the bathroom.
    “Thanks. It’s my parents’ house, technically.” Recalling the conversation with my mother, I frowned.
    “You don’t like living in it?”
    “No, it’s not that. I just don’t…you know what?” I sighed, shaking my head. “Let’s not talk about it.”
    His mouth fell open. “ You don’t want to talk about something?”
    I slapped him lightly on the arm. “Ha ha. No, I don’t. So let’s go, I’m dying to see your place.”
    “Yours is much fancier,” he said as we walked outside. “Mine’s going to look very bare to your eye.”
    I’d like your ass bare to my eye , I thought as I followed him to his truck. “Hey, do you want me to drive myself? That way you won’t have to bring me back.”
    He opened the passenger door for me. “I don’t mind bringing you back.”
    “OK. Thanks.” I climbed into the truck, feeling his hand brush my lower back. My entire body jittered with excitement, and I felt like a kid who just learned school is canceled for the day. There was some kind of new current between us—I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but I thought it had to do with the difference in him…he was so much more relaxed than he’d been at the end of the date last night. Did this mean he was up for seeing where this might go?
    I told him to take the long, winding drive around the orchard before heading back out on to the highway, and I pointed out all my favorite spots on the farm—the best trees to climb, my favorite shady spot for reading, the perfect hiding places for hide and seek or ducking chores.
    “You must have missed all this when you moved away,” he said, turning onto the main road. “Sounds like you really love it.”
    “Yeah, I do. And I did miss it.”
    “Think you’ll stay here for good?”
    “Probably,” I said, staring out the window at the familiar landscape—the rolling hills, the orchards and vineyards, the old red barns with their peeling paint, the new faux chateaux of stone and brick. “What