Page 10 of The Seascape Between Us

The possibility shouldn’t have pleased me the way it did, but I couldn’t help myself.

I lifted my drink and took a long swallow. The whiskey, better than I’d been expecting, burned down my throat and warmed my stomach. After setting my glass down, I looked at Daniel. “What do you recommend?”

He glared. “I don’t know what you like.”

There’d been a time when that wasn’t true, when I would have said that no one knew me better than Daniel—even if it had only been for a few months. A wave of sadness rolled through me. The last seventeen years felt strangely wasted, though I couldn’t have said why, exactly.

I cleared my inexplicably tight throat. “I like everything. What are your favorites?”

His gaze narrowed as if he expected a trap, but he took a step closer and pointed to some dishes on the menu. “The salmon is good. The lobster mac and cheese or the ribeye if you don’t want seafood.”

“I think I’ll have the salmon then, and the calamari to start.” I ordered wine as well, not bothering to ask him for a recommendation. He’d probably think I was setting him up to fail. Though why I should care what he thought, I couldn’t say.

Without another word, he left my table, leaving me alone in the dining room. While I’d been giving Daniel my order, one of the other couples in the restaurant had left, and Alistair was clearing away their table. The other couple was lingering over coffee.

I turned to the window next to me and drained the rest of my drink. On an empty stomach, the whiskey was hitting me fast, leaving me warm and a little fuzzy. I’d have to be more careful with my wine, at least until I got some food in me.

Outside, it was completely dark now. Only the soft glow from the lampposts at the edge of the boardwalk lit the inky black along with the silver half-moon high overhead, reflecting off the rippling, oily waves.

As shabby as the Seascape was, the views were still stunning, even at night. Whoever bought the place, provided they had the deep pockets necessary to modernize the hotel while leaning into the mid-century charm, could really do well with the place.

The truth was, I had the money to fix up the place, refurnish the rooms, update the building and bring it into the current century. But would it be worth it? How long would it take to see any return onmyinvestment? Not soon enough, by the looks of things. Besides, there wasn’t enough money in the world for me to run a business partnered with Daniel Quinn.

As if just thinking about him had summoned him like a ghost from my past, Daniel returned to the table, set down the wine and took my whiskey tumbler.

“Your calamari will be out shortly,” he told me, words clipped.

“Thanks.” I lifted my wineglass in a sort of mock toast before drinking. Daniel rolled his eyes and walked away.

For the most part, dinner ran smoothly. Daniel brought the dishes to the table, saying as little as possible and leaving as quickly as he could. I, on the other hand, and despite my better judgment, ordered another two glasses of wine and had a fairly good buzz going by the time he returned to clear away my dinner.

“That was good,” I told him, and meaning it. The food had been surprisingly delicious, and the restaurant was the first hint of potential I’d seen since I arrived.

Daniel nodded and lifted my plate.

“What do you recommend for dessert?” Even I heard the faint slur in my voice.

He shot me a pointed look. “Coffee.Strongcoffee.”

“Sure, okay, but what about to eat?”

“The sticky toffee pudding is good.” He shrugged and lowered his gaze to the dishes in his hands.

Something squeezed in my chest. Sticky toffee pudding had been my favorite since I was a kid. My grandmother used to make it when I stayed with my grandparents while my own parents had been navigating their divorce. Did Daniel remember, or was he just making a recommendation?

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

He nodded and left, but was back a few minutes later with my dessert and a steaming cup of coffee.

“God, that looks good,” I said, before he could hurry away again. I took a bite of the sweet spongy cake and nearly wept. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine I was ten years old and back in my grandmother’s kitchen. I looked up at Daniel. His mouth twitched as if he were struggling to hold back a smile.

“We have a great chef.”

“You really do. Sit. We should talk.” I gestured to the chair opposite me. “Here, you can help me eat this.” I pointed to the desert with my fork.

Daniel snorted. “I’m not going to sit here and share your dessert while you tell me all the reasons my hotel sucks.”

“Ourhotel.” I batted my eyes at him and struggled not to laugh when I saw his jaw tighten. Honestly, getting under his skin was just too easy. “Seriously though, sit down.”

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