Page 53 of At First Flight
Despite my yearning to keep him close, Dean steps back, my hand falling back to my side, and shuts the door behind me.
“Later, then.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Where to first?”
“Let me tell you about this amazing bookstore in town. It’s at the other end of the street. Where were you thinking of going for dinner?” I ask, glancing down at the small watch I wear on my wrist. A gift from my dad at my high school graduation. “The marina used to have an amazing restaurant, but I think it’s fallen to the wayside over the past few years. A hurricane five years ago really took a toll on the town. Or so my mom said.”
“Wherever is fine. I’ll be honest, I didn’t really research this too much. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
Stopping on the sidewalk, I turn to face him. “Why is that?”
“Believe it or not,” he says just as a gust of wind tosses my hair across my face, causing the ends to stick to the corners of my mouth. He gently brushes them aside as he continues, “I like you, Lila. I like the way you’re so ambitious. I like the way you take care of my kids as if they’re your own. You do a much better job than I ever could, and it’s going to suck if you decide to leave. And even though we’re not alone much, most of all I like the calmness I feel around you.”
“Wow,” I mumble as his words wash over me. I feel like we barely know each other, yet we’re so familiar at the same time.
My brain screams, “Abort! Abort!” but my heart flutters loudly, shouting, “Full steam ahead.”
A quiet calm arises as we walk down the sidewalk. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. Truthfully, it feels more romantic than anything. As we walk, with Dean closest to the road, ourhands feel like they brush against each other with each small swing. We’re standing at least a foot apart, so I know it’s only in my mind, but the energy between us builds with each step.
We pass the first side road, and I point out the direction for the marina and wildlife preserve, then the café and one of two bars in town. The Squeeze In has been around since the town was established and little has changed since then. There are barely any tables, but the bar spans the length of the place. Mom told me that one of the kids recently moved home and is taking it over after spending some time working with a bourbon distillery in Tennessee. Dean stops and leans toward one of the sea-mist-covered windows to get a better view, but I know from experience that the glass is almost entirely opaque.
“Looking for another venture?” I joke, knowing that Dean has his hands in more businesses than I can count, but he surprises me with a secretive grin and shrug.
We continue walking, Dean glancing at me every now and again as I go on about some of the businesses in town and a few that have left. There seems to be more empty shops than I remember, which leaves my heart clenching.
As we reach the last side road headed toward the beach, I point out the public beach access across from the 1920s Needle Palm Resort.
“Once it warms up, you should take the kids to the beach. The park rangers do a great job of keeping it clean. It’s sort of our little hideaway here in Coral Bell Cove.”
“Does it get busy with tourists in the summer?” Dean asks as a woman pushing a stroller walks in the opposite direction, eyeing Dean as if he were her favorite ice cream. I can’t even blame her because he looks delicious with his slightly tousled hair and casual clothes.
“It can. Most locals head to the beach in the morning since tourists tend to go in the afternoon. But we have another special spot that only true Coral Bell Cove residents know about. Maybe I’ll show you one day,” I say flirtishly.
Dean picks up on it immediately and turns toward me, taking a step in my direction. “You’d do that for me, Lila? Share a piece of yourself?”
He’s backed me up against the weathered brick of the building, leaning close enough that I can see the glimmers of gold in his brown eyes. Licking my lips, I murmur, “It’s just a town beach.”
“Yeah, but it’s your town beach. And that makes it special.”
I clear my throat, the words catching slightly as Dean steps back, putting space between us that feels far more like an abyss than a courtesy. His warmth still lingers on my skin, a phantom touch I’m not ready to lose. We probably look like strangers now, just two people casually standing on the sidewalk. But my body knows better. My heart certainly does.
I force a smile, voice quieter than I mean it to be. “The bookstore’s just another block up.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I can’t stop the way my stomach flutters, nervous and hopeful. His words continue to echo in my chest, a mix of steady confidence and quiet affection that wraps around me like a promise I didn’t even know I needed.
What does he see when he looks at me? I’m not polished or poised or remotely put together. I’m still unraveling pieces of myself and trying to remember who I was before everything with Prescott. Yet… Dean looks at me like I’m worth knowing. Worth staying for. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I feel.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I let the thought in, just the edge of it, the possibility. Maybe I’m starting to fall for this man. And maybe that’s the most terrifying, exhilarating truth of all.
Gesturing with his arm out wide, Dean says, “Lead the way.”
Chapter Twelve – Dean
I’m making her nervous in the best possible way, and there isn’t a single thing I can do to stop it. It’s this impulse inside me to see how far I can push her to jump out of this box she’s put herself in. Lila is this grand puzzle I’m dying to piece together.
The desire to reach out and grab her hand as we strolled down the main street was overwhelming. It felt like we were a couple as she waved at people we passed. Listening to her describe the stores still open and those that she remembered from her childhood leaves an ever-expanding hole in my gut. Even her wistful memories left me…wanting.
