Page 29 of Our Bay Will Come

"Wine would be great." She slips off her shoes, lining them up neatly by the door. It's such a small thing, but it makes my chest tight. It's like she's already making herself at home.

I pour a glass of red for each of us, which I've saved for a special occasion. When I hand hers over, our fingers brush, and there it is – that same spark I always feel in her presence. I know she feels it, too, from how her eyes widen slightly.

"I prepped some lasagna this morning," I say, nodding toward the kitchen. "Nothing fancy, but I’ll just need to heat it up for you."

"That sounds perfect." She takes a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine. "And it smells amazing. I'm starving. I was too nervous to eat lunch."

"Nervous?" I can't help asking.

She blushes, the color spreading across her cheeks. "A little. Coming here is a big move for me.”

"What, eating lasagna?" I tease gently.

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "No, this feels like it’s getting serious. It's not my style. At least it hasn’t been in a while."

"If it helps, I think we should slow things down. Take things day by day." I take a step closer, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume. "But I'm glad you came."

"Me too," she says softly, and for a moment, we stand there, the air between us charged with possibility.

Then her stomach growls loudly, and we laugh, the tension broken.

"Come on," I say, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Let's feed you before you pass out. I didn't lure you to Cedar Bay to have you faint on my living room floor."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow, following me. "What exactly did you lure me here for, Fox Carmichael?"

The way she says my name makes my pulse quicken. Take it slow–– Rowan's words replay in my head.

"To show you the best sunset in Oregon," I say, opening the oven. "And to feed you my mom's lasagna. The rest..." I look up,meeting her eyes across the kitchen island. "The rest is up to you."

She holds my gaze, something shifting in her expression. "Day by day, huh?"

"Day by day," I agree, and the smile she gives me then is worth every minute of waiting.

CHAPTER TEN

FOX

Prue and I eat dinner at the small table on my deck, the bay stretching out before us like a painting. The lasagna is a hit—Mom would be proud—and conversation flows easier with each glass of wine. I learn that Prue's childhood dream was to redesign the Winchester Mystery House, that she can't stand the taste of cilantro, and that she once got locked in a client's walk-in closet for three hours.

"No way," I laugh. "What did you do?"

"Rearranged her shoes by season and color." She shrugs. "If I'm going to be trapped somewhere, I might as well be productive."

The sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon and Prue falls silent, watching the changing colors reflect on the water.

"This is beautiful," she murmurs.

"Wait until you see it from the water." I clear my throat. "I was thinking... would you want to take the boat out? Just for a bit?"

Her eyes light up. "Now?"

"Unless you're too tired from the drive?—"

"No," she interrupts, standing so quickly she nearly knocks over her wineglass. "I'd love to. Let me grab a sweater."

Twenty minutes later, we're gliding across the bay in my small motorboat. I've taken this route hundreds of times, but seeing Prue's face as we cut through the water makes it feel brand new. She sits at the bow, her hair whipping in the wind, occasionally pointing to seabirds or calling out questions about landmarks we pass.

I find a quiet spot away from the other evening boaters and cut the engine. We drift gently––the only sounds are the lapping of water against the hull and distant calls of gulls heading home for the night.

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