Page 9 of Only Ever His

“Maybe not. But I’m discovering that Oakridge Bay has its charms,” Cole said.

I knew he wasn’t talking about the diner, but I ignored the blush that threatened to rise in my cheeks.

Instead, I looked out the window, gathering my thoughts.

“So, where are you from? I’m guessing not from around here,” I said.

He shook his head, setting the menu down.

“Washington, actually. This place is a bit of a change, but I like it. Peaceful,” he said.

His gaze was on me, intense, as if he could see through every wall I’d built. It was unnerving. Exhilarating.

I took a deep breath, trying to ground myself, to remind myself that I was in control.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “At the mayor’s party.”

“Why were you at the mayor’s party?” I asked, surprised.

“My father’s an old friend of his,” Cole replied, pausing as the waitress brought us our drinks.

Cole continued, “He couldn’t make it, so he asked me to attend in his place.”

I watched him over the rim of my cup, feeling that familiar pull, the soft spark of something that felt dangerously like hope.

Cole felt… safe, which was strange, given his power and influence.

He was a man who probably had the world at his fingertips.

And yet, here he was in a small-town diner, looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

“You didn’t have to come all the way back to Oakridge Bay to buy a few dresses,” I said, my tone light but curious.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “But I wanted to.”

The words hung between us, heavy with implication.

I could feel my walls crumbling, just a little, an inch of trust slipping through the cracks.

“Why?” I asked softly, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“Because,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “there’s something about you, Tori. Something I don’t want to ignore.”

My heart raced, my fingers curling around the edge of the table as I searched his face.

It had been so long since I’d felt anything like this.

A warm, insistent tug, the kind of connection that I’d thought I’d never let myself feel again.

“I’m not looking for anything,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, a hint of apology lacing my words.

I felt vulnerable, exposed, afraid of the weight his words carried.

“Neither am I,” he replied, his voice steady, grounding. “But sometimes, things find us when we’re least expecting them.”

There was no hint of pressure in his tone, no forcefulness or insistence.

Just an invitation, a chance to let down my guard, even if only for a moment.

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