Page 12 of Tempest

I tossed the phone on my bed and stood, catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and I looked like I hadn’t slept in days. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

As I rifled through my closet, my thoughts drifted back to Tempest. The way his jaw clenched when he was angry, the raw power in his stance. I shivered, remembering how it felt to be near him.

“Stop it,” I muttered, yanking a dress off its hanger. “This date is about clarity, not Tempest.”

But even as I slipped on the dress, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was making a mistake. What if Tempest found out? The thought of his anger, that barely contained rage directed at me, sent a thrill down my spine.

I applied my makeup with shaking hands, trying to focus on Connor. Sweet, safe Connor. He was everything Tempest wasn’t -- stable, predictable, uncomplicated.

So why did that thought fill me with disappointment?

I grabbed my purse, pausing at the door. It wasn’t too late to cancel. To stay home, to avoid the mess I was surely walking into.

But I needed answers. And maybe this date would provide them.

With a deep breath, I stepped out into the night, the weight of my decision settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

I pushed open the restaurant door, the cheerful hostess greeting me a stark contrast to the knot in my stomach. My eyes swept the room, scanning faces, searching. For what, I wasn’t sure.

The door. My gaze lingered there, half-expecting Tempest to burst through, all barely contained fury and raw intensity. I could almost see him, leather-clad and scowling, demanding to know what the hell I was doing here.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Um, I’m meeting someone.”

“Kasen!”

I jumped, spinning to face Connor’s warm smile. He stood, waving me over to a corner table.

“Hey,” I managed, forcing a smile as I slid into the seat across from him. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“Not at all,” Connor replied, his easygoing nature on full display. “I just got here myself. How are you?”

I nodded, my mind already drifting. “Fine, thanks. You?”

As Connor launched into a story about his day, a waitress approached. I ordered a latte on autopilot, barely hearing Connor’s own order.

“So,” he said once we were alone again, “I was thinking after this we could --”

The restaurant door swung open. My head snapped up, heart racing. But it was just a young couple, laughing as they entered.

“Kasen?” Connor’s voice pulled me back. “Everything okay?”

I blinked, focusing on his concerned face. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Connor’s easygoing smile returned, and I felt a pang of guilt. He was nice, genuinely nice. The kind of guy who’d remember your coffee order and text you good morning. Nothing like Tempest’s brooding intensity, the way his presence filled a room with electric tension.

“So, tell me about your week,” Connor said, leaning forward with interest. “Any exciting plans coming up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my mind conjured an image of Tempest instead. What the hell was wrong with me? I was the one who’d run out on him.

“Oh, you know,” I heard myself say, the words coming out automatically. “Just the usual. Work, family stuff.”

Connor nodded, seemingly satisfied with my vague answer. “Speaking of family, how are your sisters doing? You mentioned they were thinking of moving, right?”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus. “Yeah, they’re… good. Still deciding.”

Not that my dad would let them move out easily. Which was why all three of us still lived at home.

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