Page 23 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

He worked too much to stop and ask himself that question. The sweet tangy drink turned bitter. “I’m good at what I do and proud of what I built.” That didn’t answer her question. “But maybe it’s becoming more of a hamster-wheel thing for me.” Didn’t mice run in a wheel, as well? He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to remind her of her runaway pet. “Do you love your job?”

Her lovely face lit up, and she placed a ketchup-dipped fry back on her plate. “I do! Granted, some assignments are better than others. But I get to see lots of exciting places, and I help people. It’s meaningful to me. And I never know what the next day will bring.”

“What is it exactly that you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?” He dipped the fry into ketchup. Erm, oops. He’d promised not to ask, hadn’t he?

“I live,” she said without batting an eye.

Her job must have something to do with security and protection. A cop? A secret agent? A bodyguard? Once again, why such secrecy?

Okay, maybe her family would be a safer topic. Or would that turn out to be sensitive, as well? “You already know I grew up with many brothers on a ranch. Sorry you had to grow up with a stepmother and two stepsisters.” He teased. “I hope it wasn’t as bad as in Cinderella’s story.”

Maybe not the best move, either. He was usually much better with the ladies. However, she seemed more difficult to decipher than the land or sea when covered in morning mist.

She took another bite of her crab cake, and her gaze followed a newly arrived teenage couple, then the middle-aged one with five children. She sure paid close attention to her surroundings. “We do have modern cleaning appliances now. Like a vacuum cleaner instead of a broom. But my difficult upbringing made me appreciate my current independence and freedom more.”

She sounded serious. He’d been joking about the stepmother and stepsisters, but he could almost hear reality behind her words. If so, she wouldn’t surrender her hard-earned independence to a relationship. She’d already told him she wasn’t looking for romance.

The realization formed a lump in his throat, though it didn’t make much sense. He wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, either. He tried to flush that lump with cold raspberry tea. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Play with mice. Listen to rock music. Go to the firing range. Walk on the beach.” Her expression turned wistful, and she clattered her half-full glass down on the table, covering the head of a fish painted on its surface. Her gaze darted around again, zoomed in on an elderly couple now seated two tables from them, then returned to him. “I used to run to the beach when I was little. There, nobody yelled at me or gave me impossible tasks.” Vulnerability flashed in her hazel eyes before she turned away as if to look at the pier.

Compassion stirred him. It began to sound as if she truly had been Cinderella, and he wished he could protect her from her miserable childhood. He finished his yummy crab cakes, then drained his refreshing raspberry tea. His fries and biscuits were gone already. Most of his cucumber and tomato salad remained unloved. Then he caught the lifeline she threw him as he finished his crunchy fries. “Would you like to take a walk on the beach after lunch?”

“Don’t you have to go back to work?” Her eyes widened as she brought a tomato slice to her mouth.

“I cleared most of my afternoon.” For the first time in years.Manyyears. “Unless you need to go back to work?” He held his breath for her answer.

“I can spare an hour.”

The trace of guilt in her eyes surprised him, but he jumped at the chance to spend more time with her. “Would you like dessert?”

She hesitated. “They do have an awesome vanilla bean crème brûlée.”

He gestured to the waitress. “Two crème brûlées, please.” He wanted this day to last a lifetime.

His jaw nearly dropped. What was he thinking? Work was his life. And this was just lunch. It had to be.

Yet his mind whirled. Wistfulness had glazed her eyes when she looked at the water, which was no wonder if only mice and the ocean were kind to her while she’d been growing up.

“I have a boat.” Which he used rarely, and only when he needed to entertain important investors. “Would you like to go out on it this weekend? If you don’t have to travel somewhere on an assignment?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

He needed to keep his cool, so he dimmed the eagerness in his eyes. People who were too eager seldom closed the deal, and this wasn’t a deal to him. It was way more important.

“You don’t have a yacht? Just a boat? I’m kidding. I’ll get back to you on that.” Why could she never answer right away?

At least it wasn’t a no. He leaned back when the waitress brought the dessert. He tried it, and it was tender and sweet as it melted in his mouth. “You were right. It’s awesome. And so are you.”

Her spoon froze midair, and their gazes met and held again. “You don’t know much about me.”

“But I’d love to.” He kept her gaze as the breeze caressed his face and threw her blonde hair around hers. She didn’t seem to be a person who easily allowed people into her life, but surely, there was more to it. Which increased his curiosity.

Her dessert was disappearing fast, so she must have a sweet tooth. He’d send her chocolates if he knew where she lived. But if he asked again, it would be stalkerish.

She scooped out the last of her crème brûlée. “What did you like to do growing up?”

“My childhood was a combo of the ranch and the beach. There’s nearly always lots of work at a ranch, but we managed to get to the beach for fun. Fishing, swimming, splashing around, diving from the pier.” Nostalgia unraveled in his heart as he stared at a beautiful sailboat, its white sails crisp against the blue in the distance.

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