Page 69 of The Lighthouse Inn (Shattered Cove 4)

Jasmine nodded, brushing her hand over Zoey’s sweaty forehead. The little girl’s eyes fluttered closed with her head on her mother’s lap. Her tan arms wound around Jasmine’s waist. An outsider looking at the three of them would assume they were a little family. A twinge of something foreign tugged at his heart.

That wasn’t for him. Not this. Not with her. And it was time he did what he came here for.

“This inn is something special.”

She smiled, glancing at the white building behind them. “I’m glad you agree.”

“You don’t think you’d ever be willing to sell it?”

Her forehead bunched as she studied him. “You keep asking that.”

“I’m in real estate. I know a place like this could go for a cool one and a half million. I know you could use that cash.”

She turned to face the beach, silently watching the waves for a few moments. “Tell me about the restaurant of your dreams. What would it look like?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it.”

She cut him a disbelieving look that called his bullshit.

“Something rustic but modern. Farm to table. Fresh ingredients. Family friendly, but also higher class. Somewhere anyone would fit in.”

She closed her eyes as if imagining it. “What would you call it?”

“Atlantis.”

Her lips curved up. “What would the menu be like?”

“Seasonal. Fresh seafood from the fishermen at the docks, proteins from local famers, along with most of the vegetables.”

“And after you found the building—the one that felt like the perfect fit. The one where you had to tear up the horrible shag carpeting and replace it with actual wood flooring—you’d move all the tables in and get your kitchen equipment. You’d set everything up just how you wanted it. It would be back-breaking hard work, but you’d know it was worth it. You’d have the menu designed and tested. You’d have your first customers, and they’d love the food. You’d have a fuller crowd every night as word spread of your awesome restaurant and the chef behind the magic.”

He nodded. The picture of where she was going with this becoming clear.

“If someone walked into your restaurant and handed you a check for one and a half million dollars, would you sell it? Knowing it would be knocked down and made into something less yours?”

He swallowed, a punch to his gut at the thought of having all he’d dreamed of and then trading it for cash. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about the money. It’s about the dream,” he answered, disappointment and understanding spiraling inside. That answered that. She wouldn’t sell, and he’d have to find another way to prove his worth to his parents and grandfather.

“What’s holding you back from doing that? From owning your own restaurant?” Jasmine asked.

The thought scared him as much as it excited him. “I’d have to risk it all, and in the process, disappoint my family. If I failed, I wouldn’t get another shot. The Remingtons are expected to live a certain life, work at the family business, dress a specific way, and marry the right kind of people.”

She winced. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“Why do it if it doesn’t make you happy?”

He turned to face her. “I never said that.”

“Your face doesn’t light up when you talk about real estate and your family like it does about Atlantis.”

He reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered against her cheek. Her green eyes locked on his, vulnerability flashing in her gaze. How could this woman see through him? Unearth things even he was blind to?

“You see me.”

---