Page 25 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

“Seriously? I’m an accountant.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she just dipped a french fry in ketchup. The bright dark-red color screamed at her, and she shifted back. She evened her breathing. It was just ketchup. Not something... she associated that color with ever since the memories had come back. But not all of them had. She’d still had a lot of blurs. Too many.

Or maybe not enough.

Usually, he’d been the one to finish his food first—she’d been too busy doing all the talking. Now she’d been making a dent in it much faster than he did. The same french fries tasted different here, even without ketchup. Crunchy and salty outside, soft inside. Better somehow.

“Well, could you have come across some unsavory information in the accounting books?” He studied her over the rim of his glass.

What did he see? It was wrong of her to wish he’d look at her with the same affection, just once.

Then his gaze roamed over the place again, like it did most of the time at lunch. Was it because he was vigilant after her accident? Or did it pain him to even look at her? That thought gave her a bitter taste, and she chased it down with sweet and tangy lemonade.

When she glanced around as well, her gaze lingered on a woman in a white short-sleeved dress with red polka dots and a crimson belt who must’ve come in recently. Several diamonds sparkled in the sunshine on fingers that also bore an elaborate manicure. A wide-brimmed straw hat shaded her, and ice-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders. Fancy oversized sunglasses covered most of her face, leaving visible only overdone lips highlighted by lipstick as bright as those polka dots. Straw hats and sunglasses were a staple here because of the bright sun, and yet something about this visitor put Skylar on guard. An uneasiness clenched her stomach.

First, the woman’s hair didn’t match her eyebrows, which were at least a shade darker. Second, her body was sort of turned in their direction, even though her attention seemed to be taken with a small salad and her phone. Her posture was tense, and she wasn’t scrolling or typing anything. She wasn’t eavesdropping, was she?

Of course not. Why would she? Skylar nearly snorted.

“I work for averyreputable company. Nothing suspicious there.” She squeezed a lime over the fish fillet and gave it its due. She didn’t know who the cook was here now, but the fillet was nice and tender, and the herbs were flavorful. Did her aunt still do some of the cooking?

“Why?”

She blinked at him. “Um, why would I work for a reputable company?”

He forked some of his coleslaw. “No, why did you become an accountant? You always wanted to be an artist.”

Though her appetite started to evaporate, she helped herself to the coleslaw, too, mostly to stall. “But I was good at math, remember?”

“I do, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

He was right. Her fork clattered to the plate, causing Breeze to get up and growl, but then she settled at Skylar’s feet again.

What could Skylar tell him? That one day she remembered something horrifying? That she had to stop being a dreamer? That she’d needed to distance herself from their beach town and what she used to be here? Or that one of her paintings could’ve cost Grandma her life?

“Getting a degree in accounting gave me a reliable, steady job.” Completely true, but the lesser of several reasons. “There’s a reason the expression ‘starving artist’ exists.”

“But you loved it.” His voice went quiet.

She lovedhim, too. But she’d walked away, hadn’t she? A sharp knife turned in her belly. Maybe the same one with which he’d thought she’d stabbed him in the back.

Slowly, she drained her lemonade. Partly because she was thirsty. Partly because she needed to buy time again to answer without giving too much away. She put the glass on the table, empty like her heart.

Then she stared at the gentle cerulean waters as if the ocean was telling her the right words and she could decipher them in its whisper.

“Sometimes, we have to leave what we love the most,” she finally said. Based on his frown, it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. But it was the only answer she could give.

Heat prickled her eyes, and she dropped beside Breeze to hide her face in the luxurious, smooth fur in case the tears slid free. She clutched the dog as if Breeze were her lifesaver.

Could she still tell Dallas everything? Or whatever little she remembered? Would he understand her decision, then?

No, it was too dangerous. And too late anyway.

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Alow growl threw Skylarout of her dreams. She dreamed of Dallas again, and her heart was beating faster than usual. Only it wasn’t the Dallas of her teen dreams but the man he was now. The man she’d hurt and kept hurting.

She opened her eyes and blinked, disoriented and adjusting to the darkness.

Where was she?

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