Page 7 of Beginnings By the Sea

As I pulled my hand away, I couldn’t help but feel a fluttering sensation in my chest as I looked into Cohen’s eyes. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place it. It was almost like déjà vu.

Cohen cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know,” he said, sliding off the exam table, “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

I smiled. “Same.”

His brows lifted. “Well, in that case, could you let me pay you back for seeing me after hours?”

Excitement coursed through me. “What did you have in mind?”

His gaze drifted down to my lips, and he smirked when his eyes lifted back to mine. “Dinner . . . tonight?”

My stomach fluttered in so many different ways as I thought about what this date could lead to. I didn’t want to say no, but I also knew that getting close to someone would open me up to heartache; it was inevitable.

Was it a risk I was willing to take? You better believe it.

Cohen’s smile widened and he chuckled. “What do you say, Nyla? Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

There was no hesitation in my voice when I answered. “Yes,” I said. “Just tell me where and I’ll be there.”

4

NYLA

When Cohen left the office, I rushed home and rummaged through my closet. I finally settled on a short black dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, and slipped on a pair of strappy silver heels.

I combed my long red hair so it cascaded down my back in gentle waves. Cohen offered to take me anywhere I wanted to go, and since I was meeting Everleigh and the rest of our friends at The Beachcomber tomorrow, I didn’t want to choose there. Plus, it was where most of the locals went, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself yet. Word traveled fast in small towns, and Cohen was already widely known. The last thing I wanted was for my patients to come in and ask questions about my love life. That was why I decided on Tranquil Island Bistro; it was just outside of town.

Cohen wanted to pick me up for our date, but I opted to drive myself . . . at least for our first one. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. Nothing was worse than being stuck on a horrible date with no escape. But, in all honesty, I didn’t foresee mine and Cohen’s dinner turning out that way. He seemed like a good guy, and from what I’d read about him in the town news article, he was very successful and respected.

I arrived at Tranquil Island Bistro at 7:30 p.m. sharp. The sun had set, and the restaurant was illuminated by twinkling fairy lights strung around the outdoor patio.

As I exited my car, I saw Cohen standing by the entrance, looking handsome in his black suit and white shirt. He smiled as he saw me approaching, and I felt butterflies in my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” he said, reaching for my hand.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. “You look mighty fine yourself.”

I loved the way he had his hair gelled to where it was sort of messy but not. His suit was tailored to perfection, fitting the exact contours of his muscles. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, exposing his smooth, tanned skin. I had no doubt there was a set of chiseled abs much further down. A part of me wished I could see them.

We walked into the restaurant, and I was immediately struck by the cozy, intimate atmosphere. The bistro was dimly lit, and as we sat down at our table, I noticed that the only illumination came from the flickering candles in the center of the room. Soft music played in the background, and the waves crashing against the shore could be heard through the open windows. Cohen ordered a bottle of red wine, and we ordered our food. Everything was turning out perfectly.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

Cohen shifted in his chair and winced just a little. Without anesthetic or pain medicine, the wound on his side would ache.

“Not too bad,” he replied, even though I knew he was in pain.

A chuckle escaped my lips. “If you need pain medicine, I can write you a prescription.”

Cohen smiled and winced again when he started to laugh. “I appreciate that, but I’m going to tough it out. If Dalton can do it, then I can.”

The waiter brought us the bottle of wine and filled our glasses, but I sat there stunned. Cohen lifted his glass but then paused when he noticed me staring.

“Did I say something wrong?”

I reached for my wine. “Not at all. I’m just shocked.”

His brows furrowed. “About what?”

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