Chapter 5
The hostess led them through the restaurant toward a quiet table overlooking the ocean. Johanna suspected the seating arrangement had been intentional the second she noticed the view.
Everything about Harbor & Wine felt carefully designed to lower a woman’s defenses.
Soft candlelight flickered across crisp white tablecloths while low jazz drifted through the restaurant beneath the murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of wine glasses.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Atlantic like moving artwork.
Moonlight stretched silver across dark water while waves rolled steadily against the shoreline below.
The entire place radiated romance with unapologetic confidence. Which meant Blaze absolutely chose it on purpose.
Johanna slid into her chair and set her clutch beside her before leveling a suspicious look across the table.
“You planned this entirely too well.”
Blaze looked completely unbothered by the accusation. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
His mouth curved, lazy amusement settling into his expression. “Sounded like one.”
That confidence should have irritated her. Instead, warmth spread low through her stomach in ways she did not appreciate.
The waiter appeared with menus and water glasses. Blaze thanked him before turning his attention back to her, and there it was again, that steady masculine focus that made her feel like the only woman in the restaurant.
Johanna lowered her eyes to the menu immediately.
Coward, she scolded herself.
“So,” Blaze said casually, “do you still eat dessert before dinner?”
Her head snapped up. “You remember that?”
A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “You used to say life was too unpredictable to postpone chocolate cake.”
Heat climbed up her neck.
Because not only had she said that… she had completely forgotten she ever did.
Blaze, apparently, had not forgotten anything.
“You remember entirely too much,” she muttered.
He leaned back in his chair, broad shoulders stretching the button-down in ways that should have been illegal in public dining establishments.
“I remember what mattered to me.”
The words settled quietly between them.
Johanna looked toward the ocean because maintaining direct eye contact with Blaze for too long already felt emotionally risky.
The waiter returned for drink orders. Johanna requested a glass of cabernet while Blaze ordered bourbon neat.
Of course he did.
Everything about him suited bourbon now. He carried the same slow warmth and strength beneath the surface.
“You nervous?” he asked after the waiter walked away.
Johanna laughed softly. “About what?”
His gaze held hers steadily.
“Me.”
The audacity of this man truly deserved scientific study.
She reached for her water glass. “Confidence looks ridiculous on you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Johanna took a slow sip before lowering the glass carefully. “Yes.”
Blaze’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
She shrugged one shoulder. “You wanted honesty.”
Satisfaction warmed his expression in a way that caught her off guard, as though her honesty genuinely mattered to him.
“And why are you nervous?” he asked quietly.
Because my body still remembers you before my heart can intervene.
Johanna cleared her throat lightly. “This feels weird.”
Blaze shook his head once. “No,” he said softly. “It feels good.”
The sincerity in his voice affected her worse than flirting would have.
Johanna looked back down at the menu even though she’d stopped reading it several minutes ago.
“You know,” Blaze continued, “you still get that little line right here when you’re trying not to smile.”
Johanna frowned automatically.
Blaze pointed toward the corner of his own mouth. “Right there.”
She immediately smoothed her expression.
A low laugh escaped him. “There it is again.”
“You’re irritating,” she scolded.
A slow grin spread across his face. “And you’re beautiful when you’re annoyed.”
The compliment lacked performance or polish. Blaze said it with quiet certainty, like he was simply acknowledging something true. The words settled over her with the same natural rhythm as the tide rolling beyond the windows.
Before Johanna could respond, the waiter returned carrying their drinks.
Thank God for excellent timing.
She reached immediately for her wine and took a generous sip while Blaze lifted his bourbon glass with unhurried ease. His gaze stayed fixed on her over the rim, steady enough to send warmth drifting beneath her skin.
He wasn’t looking at her arrogantly or with the aggressive confidence she’d learned to avoid in other men.
Blaze watched her like he genuinely enjoyed her presence, and somehow that felt far more intimate.
Which would have been easier to resist if she'd forgotten how much he used to look at her that way.
Outside, waves crashed steadily beneath moonlight while candle flames danced softly between them.
For several moments neither spoke. Surprisingly, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. History lived there instead.
Blaze rested one forearm against the table. “How’s your mother?”
Johanna blinked in surprise. The question caught her off guard because it sounded sincere rather than conversational.
“She’s good.”
“She still making those sweet potato pies every Thanksgiving?”
A reluctant smile touched Johanna’s mouth. “Unfortunately.”
Blaze looked personally offended. “Unfortunately?”
“That woman believes butter is a personality trait.”
His laughter rolled out warm and deep enough to loosen something tight inside her chest. And suddenly she was laughing too.
The tension between them eased almost immediately after that.
The waiter returned to take their order. Johanna chose blackened salmon with roasted potatoes while Blaze ordered a ribeye cooked medium rare.
Predictable.
Once the waiter disappeared again, Blaze leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You happy, Jo?” The question came with surprising force.
Johanna looked at him carefully. No teasing remained in his expression now. No flirtation either. He looked genuinely curious, as though her answer mattered more than the conversation itself.
The problem was… she didn’t entirely know the truth anymore.
“My life is good,” she answered carefully.
Blaze noticed the distinction immediately. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
Johanna sighed softly. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
She threw up her hand in a dismissive wave. “Listen too closely.”
His gaze held hers without wavering. “Only with you.”
Heaven help me.
There he went again, saying things that slipped beneath her skin before she had time to defend herself.
Johanna traced one finger along the stem of her wine glass. “I’m comfortable,” she admitted after a moment.
Understanding flickered quietly across Blaze’s face. “And you think comfortable is enough?”
Johanna looked back toward the ocean. At one time, she absolutely did.
After Blaze left, comfort became safety. Predictability meant control. Safe relationships didn’t devastate you emotionally or leave you questioning your worth after they ended. Comfortable people stayed manageable.
But sitting across from Blaze now… comfort suddenly felt suspiciously close to loneliness.
The realization unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
“You know what your problem is?” Blaze asked softly.
Johanna narrowed her eyes immediately. “No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
His grin returned. That easy rhythm sliding naturally back into place between them.
Blaze leaned slightly closer. “You think protecting yourself means never feeling anything too deeply.”
Her smile faded because his observation hit far too close to the truth. “And you,” she countered carefully, “used to think loving somebody hard enough fixed everything.”
The atmosphere between them shifted. Like an old bruise pressed unexpectedly.
Blaze’s jaw tightened once before relaxing again. “Maybe when we were younger,” he admitted.
Johanna’s chest tightened painfully. The honesty in his voice always undid her.
When they were dating, Blaze had never hidden how deeply he loved her. Losing someone who loved that openly left scars that took a very long time to stop touching.
Their food arrived then, temporarily interrupting the tension.
The scent of garlic butter, herbs, and grilled steak drifted warmly across the table while the waiter refreshed their drinks.
For several minutes they focused on eating. Even that felt strangely intimate.
Blaze still shoveled potatoes into his mouth first before cutting into his steak. He still tapped his thumb lightly against the glass whenever he was thinking too hard. And every time she glanced up, she found him looking at her with unsettling focus.
Johanna finally set down her fork. “You know what’s annoying me?”
Blaze looked up immediately. “What?”
“This feels too familiar.”
Something warm moved visibly across his face. “Good.”
“No,” she corrected quickly. “That’s the problem.”
His mouth curved. “Feels pretty good from where I’m sitting.”
Johanna felt the truth of it settle between them with startling clarity, and before she could stop herself, something inside her softened.
Outside, waves rolled steadily against the shore while candlelight flickered across Blaze’s face. And somewhere between the wine, the ocean, and the familiarity of him… Johanna forgot what it felt like to guard herself completely.
Which was exactly when she should have remembered why she'd built those walls in the first place.
* * *
Dinner stretched longer than either of them expected.
Because neither seemed eager for it to end.
By the time dessert arrived, a slice of chocolate cake Blaze ordered without asking because he remembered everything, the restaurant had thinned into quieter conversations and dimmer lighting.
Johanna stared at the plate. “You’re still making executive decisions for me?”
Blaze picked up his fork. “You’re welcome.”
She should’ve resisted. Instead, she took a bite. And immediately closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”