Chapter Five
N ightshade was exactly the kind of restaurant Hailey usually avoided on vacation.
It was crowded, loud, dimly lit, and full of people who looked like they had not merely gotten dressed for dinner but had auditioned for the role of Effortlessly Desirable Person in a Coastal Lifestyle Campaign.
So naturally, there was not a single open table.
The hostess, a willowy brunette with perfect eyeliner and the calm expression of someone who had already disappointed thirty hopeful people that evening, gave Hailey an apologetic smile.
“We’re fully booked for the night, but there’s open seating at the bar.”
“The bar is perfect,” Hailey said quickly.
Too quickly, maybe.
But it was true.
A table for one felt exposed in a place like this. A bar seat felt intentional. Independent. Stylish. Like she had chosen it because she was a confident woman taking herself to dinner, not because she was avoiding the possibility of looking lonely in public.
The hostess led her through the restaurant, past low black tables, candlelight, trailing greenery, and booths tucked beneath curved arches.
The air smelled like grilled meat, citrus, rosemary, and expensive perfume.
A wall of windows faced the ocean, now dark except for the faint silver edge of waves catching the moonlight.
Hailey settled onto the last open barstool and set her small purse on the hook beneath the counter.
The bartender appeared almost immediately. “What can I get you?”
Hailey glanced at the cocktail menu.
She should order a glass of wine. Something simple. Adult. Elegant.
Her eyes landed on the words Long Island Iced Tea.
A terrible idea.
Possibly the worst idea on the menu.
“I’ll have a Long Island,” she said.
The bartender’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but to his credit, he did not judge her out loud. “Coming right up.”
“And a cheeseburger. With fries.”
“Temperature?”
“Medium.”
“Excellent choice.”
Hailey smiled. “I’m hoping so.”
He disappeared to put in the order, leaving Hailey with the soft glow of the bar, the hum of conversation around her, and the strange, exhilarating realization that no one in this room needed anything from her.
No statements.
No strategy.
No media response.
No panicked client explaining why a bad decision was somehow not his fault.
Just her.
A drink.
A cheeseburger.
A vacation.
She exhaled and let her shoulders drop.
Then she saw him.
Tyler Von sat at a table across the room.
Hailey’s breath snagged so abruptly she nearly choked on nothing.
He was angled toward the restaurant, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair, his sun-streaked hair slightly damp as if he had showered recently and then let the ocean air do whatever it wanted.
He wore a pale blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top two buttons undone, because apparently he had made it his personal mission to endanger public safety through collarbone exposure.
Jack sat beside him, laughing at something one of the other men said.
Hailey recognized him easily. Tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered, annoyingly handsome in a way that made sense beside Tyler. The other man at the table had brown hair threaded with blond highlights, blue eyes, and the relaxed confidence of someone who had known the group for years.
Then Hailey saw the woman.
She was sitting beside Tyler.
Short and petite, with strawberry-blond hair that caught the candlelight like copper and green eyes that seemed soft even from across the room. She leaned toward Tyler while he spoke, her shoulder close to his, her smile shy and warm.
Hailey’s stomach tightened.
Oh.
That was unpleasant.
Stupidly unpleasant.
Ridiculously unpleasant for a man she had known for approximately forty-eight hours, one head injury, one iced coffee incident, and one declined dinner invitation.
The bartender placed her drink in front of her. “Long Island.”
“Thank you,” Hailey said, though her voice sounded far away.
She took a sip.
Then another.
The drink was cold, sweet, strong, and exactly dangerous enough for the mood she had just walked into.
She had no right to feel jealous.
None.
Zero.
She had told Tyler no. Very clearly. Politely, even. She had said she was on a solo vacation, which was true. She had said the point was not to be needed, which was also true. She had not said, Please remain unattached and available in case I change my mind after a shower and lip gloss.
Besides, Tyler was gorgeous. Of course he had women near him. Probably dozens. Probably an entire beach full of them. Women likely flung themselves into his path daily, hoping to be hit with sports equipment.
Hailey stabbed her straw into the drink and took another sip.
Across the room, the strawberry-blonde woman touched Tyler’s arm.
Hailey looked away so fast she nearly pulled a muscle.
“This is absurd,” she muttered.
The man two seats down glanced over.
Hailey smiled tightly. “Not you.”
He turned back to his date.
Excellent.
Now she was the woman talking to herself at the bar.
Vacation was going beautifully.
Her cheeseburger arrived a few minutes later, and Hailey forced herself to focus on the plate instead of the table across the room. The burger was enormous, the fries golden and crisp, and the first bite was so good she nearly forgave the universe for placing Tyler Von within eyesight.
Nearly.
She ate half the burger, drank too much of the Long Island, and tried very hard not to look.
She failed twelve times.
Not that she counted.
Tyler laughed at something Jack said, head tipped back, throat exposed, the sound carrying just enough to reach her through the low roar of the restaurant.
Hailey’s pulse gave an irritating little jump.
The woman beside him smiled at him like she had the right to.
Which she probably did.
Because maybe she was his girlfriend.
Maybe she was the reason he had been so casual about asking Hailey to dinner. Maybe men like Tyler tossed invitations around without thinking. Maybe dinner meant nothing to him. Maybe Hailey had spent all afternoon feeling flattered by the romantic equivalent of a free sample.
The thought soured her mood.
Her bartender returned. “How’s everything tasting?”
“Delicious,” Hailey said.
“You want another Long Island?”
She looked at the half-empty glass.
A responsible woman would say no.
A responsible woman would remember that she had not had much to eat before dinner, that Long Islands were mostly liquor wearing iced tea’s trench coat, and that emotional decisions made under their influence were rarely wise.
Hailey smiled. “Yes, please.”
The bartender nodded.
Across the room, Tyler stood.
Hailey’s body noticed before her mind did.
He said something to the table, and Jack laughed. The strawberry-blonde woman looked up at him with a fond smile. Tyler smiled back, then started through the restaurant with the easy, athletic grace of someone who had never once wondered what to do with his hands.
He was leaving.
Fine.
Good.
That was probably for the best.
Hailey turned toward the bar, lifted her chin, and took another bite of a fry with the dignity of a woman who was absolutely not disappointed.
Then a familiar voice sounded behind her.
“Well, well.”
Hailey closed her eyes.
Of course.
“You know,” Tyler said, coming closer, “for someone who couldn’t have dinner with me tonight, you seem to be having dinner tonight.”
She turned on the stool.
He stood beside her, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark shorts, the other holding her paperback.
Forget Me Not.
Her traitorous, sand-covered, romance-novel-shaped excuse for fate.
Hailey’s eyes dropped to it.
Then rose to his face.
“I never said I couldn’t have dinner,” she said.
His eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“I said I was on a solo vacation.”
“You did.”
“This is solo.”
He glanced at the burger, the fries, the cocktail, then back at her. “Looks like a good date.”
“It is. I’m charming myself.”
“I can see that.”
She reached for the book, but he lifted it slightly out of reach.
Her eyes narrowed. “You have my property.”
“I rescued your property.”
“From what? Sand?”
“Sand. Seagulls. Emotional abandonment.”
“Give me the book, Tyler.”
He smiled slowly. “You remember my name.”
“I’ve had a head injury. It stuck.”
“Should I be concerned that you’re drinking after a head injury?”
“It was yesterday.”
“Still.”
“Are you always this annoying?”
“Usually only when I like someone.”
The words landed between them with startling directness.
Hailey’s fingers tightened around her straw.
The jealousy in her chest shifted into something warmer, more dangerous. Interest. Want. Curiosity sharp enough to cut through caution.
She glanced past him toward his table.
The strawberry-blonde woman was looking at them now. So were Jack and the other man. Jack’s grin was far too pleased for Hailey’s liking.
Tyler followed her gaze.
“Ah,” he said.
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you pretend you don’t care while caring very loudly.”
Hailey’s spine straightened. “I do not care loudly.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I was simply noticing your dinner companions.”
“Were you?”
“Yes. From a public relations standpoint.”
His mouth twitched. “A public relations standpoint.”
“It’s an occupational hazard.”
“And what did your professional analysis conclude?”
Hailey looked pointedly at the table again, then at him.
“That you’re busy.”
Understanding dawned across his face.
Then delight.
Immediate, male, deeply irritating delight.
“Oh,” he said.
“No.”
“Oh, Hailey.”
“Do not say my name like that.”
“You were jealous.”
“I was observant.”
“You were jealous of Bethany.”
“I do not know who Bethany is.”
“That would make the jealousy more impressive.”
Hailey reached for her drink. “I’m not jealous.”
“Bethany is my best friend.”
Hailey took one very dignified sip and tried not to look relieved.