Page 63 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

“Me?” I say, feigning offense. “I’m not the one running around like a madman.”

“No, but you’ve got the same energy. The same spark.”

His words catch me off guard, and I look away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“Not yet,” he says, stepping closer.

Before I can respond, Max calls out again, this time accidentally letting the kite nosedive into the grass.

“Oops!” he yells, laughing.

I sigh dramatically. “Well, so much for any perfect kite-flying streak.” But I take another round, running as fast as I can down the beachfront and back. As with Max, my kite takes a nosedive and lands with a crack, not a hopeful sound. Moaning I half laugh, half gasp as I trudge back to the guys. “I’m a true amateur, for sure.”

Nate laughs, grabbing a handful of sand and tossing it playfully at my feet. “Maybe it’s not the kite. Maybe it’s the operator.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” I say, scooping up sand and flinging it at his legs.

The next thing I know, we’re both chasing each other across the field, laughing like kids. Nate grabs me around the waist, spinning me in a circle before setting me down.

“You win,” he says, his breath warm against my ear.

I look up at him, my laughter fading as the moment shifts into something heavier. His hands linger on my waist, his gaze dropping to my lips.

“Nate—”

“Liz,” he whispers, leaning in.

Before anything can happen, Max’s voice cuts through the air. “Boomer ate the tail!”

We both laugh, the spell broken but not forgotten.

As the sun sets, we pack up the kite and head to the boardwalk for one last treat—churros for Max and hot cocoa for the adults. The evening feels like something out of a dream, a perfect blend of fun, laughter, and something deeper I’m not yet ready to name as family time.

Walking back to the car, Nate’s hand brushes mine, and I let my fingers curl around his.

For now, this is enough.

Chapter fourteen

Nate

Liz laughs nervously, her fingers gripping my arm as I guide her up the final steps of the old Ocean Bay lighthouse. Her blindfold is snug, covering those beautiful eyes that always seem to catch me off guard.

“Nate,” she says, half-exasperated, half-amused. “If I trip and break something, you’re the one explaining it to Bryan.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” I say, my voice steady as I squeeze her hand. “Besides, you trust me, don’t you?”

She hesitates for a beat, her grip tightening slightly. “I do,” she admits softly.

Those two words do something to me, more than they probably should.

We reach the top, the cool ocean breeze brushing against my face as I push the door open. The scent of salt and candles mingles in the air, and the sound of soft music—something jazzy and timeless—drifts from the portable speaker I set up earlier.

“Okay,” I say, stepping behind her and carefully untying the blindfold. “You can open your eyes now.”

The moment she does, her lips part in a soft gasp. The lighthouse’s observation deck has been transformed—string lights hang overhead, casting a warm, golden glow. A small table for two is in the center, surrounded by candles flickering gently in the breeze. Beyond the railing, the ocean stretches out endlessly, the waves glistening under the moonlight.

“Nate…” she breathes, turning to look at me with wide eyes. “This is—”

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