Page 30 of Deal Breaker
“Nope,” I answer honestly. “I’m too busy for that, if I’m not working, I’m with Poppy.”
“Yeah, good call,” he nods, letting out a loud sigh. “It’sslim pickings out there anyways. I went out last weekend with a guy my cousin set me up with and it was a disaster. He said he’d pick the place, and we ended up at Arby’s. In the drive-thru. I love crinkle fries as much as anyone, but not on a first date, and not in the front seat of your mom’s Honda Civic.”
Becca coughs out a laugh, and I’m grateful for the opening to gently steer the conversation back to work, to the marketing push that’s coming up. I’m relieved they don’t ask more—about who Poppy’s dad is or why I really came back.
I’m not ready to answer those questions.
Not yet.
Eventually, the workday winds down. People start trickling out. I gather my things slowly, giving my brain a second to catch up to everything that happened today. When I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the exit, I catch a glimpse of him through the glass—Ford, in his office, talking to Noah.
He glances up. His eyes find mine. A beat. A breath.
I raise my hand in a small wave. He nods once.
It’s nothing. It’s everything.
I walk out before it can turn into more.
But I only get as far as the pavement outside of Cove when I hear his voice behind me. “Landyn.”
It stops me mid-step.
The tone of it, the hesitation laced beneath all the usual Ford Winters certainty makes me turn. Slowly. Too slowly. Like if I look at him too fast, everything I’ve been holding back might break loose.
He’s already coming down the steps toward me. He stands in front of me, close enough that I swear I can feel the heat radiating off him in the early evening air.
“I just…I want a little more time with you, to talk,” he says. “Not about work. About us.”
Us. That word slices through the quiet and I feel it settle in my chest. My heart thuds once. Hard.
I grip the strap of my bag more tightly, already inching back towards my car with my keys tangled in my fingers. I can’t do this right now. Not without completely unraveling. Not when I need to get home for dinner with Poppy. Not with the weight of the secret that exists between us.
“I really should get going,” I murmur.
“Dinner,” he says. “Tonight. Just you and me.”
It’s not a question. But it’s not a demand either.
My mouth opens. Closes. Panic spikes low in my stomach because I wasn’t expecting this. Not now.
“I—I can’t,” I say, too quickly.
His head tilts, and his eyes narrow just slightly. “Why not?”
“Plans,” I say, wincing. It’s not exactly a lie, but I know it’s far from the truth.
Ford pauses, studying me for a long beat. I know he sees through my excuse, but he doesn’t call me on it. Doesn’t push. Instead, he nods once, slowly, like he’s giving me the out I clearly want but don’t entirely deserve.
“Tomorrow then,” he says.
His words land heavily like a dare I’m not sure I’m brave enough to take. “Maybe.”
We stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between us full of unsaid things and every version of us we never got to be. I turn before I can do something stupid. Like tell him the truth.
“Just think about it,” he says quietly to my back, the rough edge of his voice pulling at my heart like a tether. “One night. One dinner where we stop pretending like there isn’t something still there between us.”
I stop walking, but I can’t turn around. I can feel the weight of his presence behind me and the weight of what he just said. What we could still be if I wasn’t hiding the one thing he has the right to know.
