Chapter Ten
She almost canceled.
The idea of spending the evening sitting across from a man she couldn’t stand but somehow thought about kissing wasn’t inviting. Rowan was the master at ghosting, but the thought of Kelsey’s disappointment pushed her forward.
She’d noted the eager way the young girl looked back over her shoulder while paddling out, checking that Rowan was still there. She wouldn’t be the one to break that trust.
Everett had probably done it enough.
The past week had pushed her into dealing with more emotion than she was used to.
Being back in the water reminded her of all the things she’d lost, including her dad.
Pretending she only continued Kelsey’s lessons to stick it to Everett had allowed her to bury the real reason she wanted to continue.
Teaching Kelsey made her feel valuable again.
The realization of how lost she really was without surfing—her true sense of identity—made it easy to shut down.
And though Kelsey was just a beginner, Rowan already saw the same love of the waves in her eyes.
She’d decided to keep going because she refused to be another person to turn her back on the girl.
If Rowan could finish out the summer and send Kelsey and Everett back to the city without falling apart, it might be the key to moving forward in her own life.
She pulled into the parking lot and walked toward the glass doors.
Rigo was one of her favorite restaurants and a treat.
Might as well take advantage. Lately, she’d noticed her appetite was back.
Dad used to tease her all the time for the way she gobbled her food, endlessly adventurous, willing to try anything.
That had been one of their favorite ways to communicate—through food trucks, ocean catches, and ramshackle restaurants that most tourists overlooked.
Rigo was one of those rare finds beloved by both tourists and locals.
She walked in and studied the scene. Voices crashed together, cutlery clinked, and laughter rose in the air.
The tiles were geometric blue and cream with bloodred curved booths.
The bar glowed amber and rich in the low light.
The scent of saffron and garlic teased her nostrils.
Rowan spotted them at a cozy corner table and walked over. Kelsey waved both arms in the air. She wore a lemon-yellow dress with white sneakers, her hair neatly braided. She’d smeared her lips with bright lip gloss but otherwise her face was bare.
Next to her, Everett rose from his chair.
The gentlemanly gesture gave her a bit of a tingle, but Rowan ignored it.
This was simply a business meeting, with the goal of making his daughter happy.
She had no problem with it, though she was positive he was only here to store up points so he could dump Kelsey for the rest of the week and disappear into his job.
Tonight, he’d ditched the jacket for a pale blue linen shirt, freshly pressed, open at the neck.
Sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Dark jeans that fit like they were custom made to flatter his tall frame.
The expensive watch that cost more than her car gleamed a rich silver on his sinewy wrist. Too many men played at being wealthy, but it always seemed awkward. On him, it looked natural.
Everett Hale was born for the role.
Rowan imagined his hair tousled, buttons undone, heat in his eyes. How many women had experienced that man? What would happen when all that intense focus turned to pleasure?
Holy crap, what was she thinking?
Her cheeks flushed. “Hi. Thanks for inviting me.”
Everett smiled. It was quick, polite, and didn’t reach his eyes.
“You made it!” Kelsey said happily.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Rowan’s voice was light as she dropped into the chair opposite Everett and beside Kelsey.
She noticed he’d moved to pull out her chair but was a few seconds too late.
The corner of his mouth tightened like a frayed thread.
He smelled like orange and something woodsy.
A Negroni sat in front of him, a precise cube of ice going glossy at the edges under the dim light. “You look beautiful, Kelsey.”
“Thanks! I always love bright colors but everyone wears mostly black at my school. Your dress is fire, Rowan.”
She felt Everett’s stare as he took in her appearance and wondered if he found her lacking.
Rowan didn’t have a bunch of fancy clothes, so she’d dug out a sundress shoved to the back of her closet.
The bright red floral skirt swirled around her legs and the bodice was tight, with a crisscross in the back that elevated it.
She’d worn her hair loose and wavy, not attempting to tame it with a straightener.
The red heels hurt her feet already, but she’d be sitting.
She couldn’t imagine doing this every day to show up for work. It would be her personal hell.
“We already ordered calamari,” Kelsey said, bouncing. “Is that okay? Dad said it was standard fare that everyone would like.”
His voice came out rich and a tiny mocking. “It’s only a starter. I didn’t know how late you’d be, so I didn’t want to wait.”
The jab was elegant and precise. Rowan flipped her menu open and pretended not to care. “I love calamari. And if you knew women well, you’d realize ‘on time’ means a fashionable ten-minute delay.”
Kelsey burst out laughing, which drew an amused look from him. “True, Dad!”
“Duly noted.”
Kelsey read out items on the menu, asking questions, and brought a brightness to the table Rowan enjoyed. “Eeew! There’s something with corn mousse in it. I’ve heard of chocolate mousse but that sounds awful.”
Rowan smothered a smile as Everett shook his head. “Corn mousse is paired with sea urchin. It’s a bit like polenta? Creamy porridge that accents the briny sweetness of the fish,” she explained.
Kelsey blinked. “Wow, that sounds good when you say it. But I still don’t want it.”
Rowan laughed. The menu had Spanish on one side, Italian on the other, and she wanted both. She was suddenly ravenous. “What are we thinking? Tapas like sensible people or a personal Everest of paella?”
“Paella takes too long,” Everett said without looking up, scanning the menu like he was assessing a budget sheet. “Kelsey will be asleep on the table.”
His daughter shot him a look. “Dad, if Rowan wants paella, I can wait. I stay up much later than you think. Plus, dessert will be the goal.”
His brow climbed. “I’m not saying she can’t have it. I’m saying maybe if you’d order more than chicken fingers or plain pizza, we can actually have an experience together.”
A dragged-out sigh full of teen frustration. “I’ll try something new but if I hate it, I get to order pizza without you complaining.”
“Deal.”
Rowan watched with amusement. Their conversation reminded her of two lawyers negotiating. She wondered if that was how they communicated. What had really happened with Kelsey’s mother?
The waiter appeared. White towel tucked over his arm as he poured water, he was young and polished. “How are you this evening? Can I get the lady a cocktail before reciting the specials?”
“I’ll wait until I decide what to order,” she answered. Everett gave her a level look, as if trying to figure her out. Probably thought she ate fish sticks and fries like Kels. “I’m an adventurous eater. Kind of a hobby of mine.”
“Eating?”
Her lip twitched. “Yes.”
The waiter looked pleased. “Wonderful, ma’am. I know our menu will satisfy your palate. This is what the chef has to offer additionally.” He rattled off a few entrées—fish, meat, pasta. Her mind locked in and sorted the items like a dictionary.
Everett’s gaze met hers across the table. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”
Ah, a challenge. It practically sparked in the air around them and made her smile slow. “Ready. Shall we share plates to begin?”
He didn’t expect the suggestion. A frown creased his brow as if he was thrown off. “Yes.”
“I trust you, Rowan! But please not the urchin thing,” Kelsey said.
Her lip twitched. Everett remained quiet and waited for her to start. She did.
“We’ll begin with the solomillo con foie. Gambas al ajillo. And the bone marrow with gremolata.”
Kelsey squealed. “Bone marrow?”
“It’s delicious, but I understand if you don’t want to try it.
It tastes like a smoky luxury. Rich as hush money.
Bright like a squeeze of summer.” A flashback of her dad hit.
They used to compete to describe their food—winner got to pick dessert.
Rowan felt the sudden heat of Everett’s gaze but refused to look across the table.
“Beautifully said,” the waiter commented. His own gaze looked at her with a mix of flirtation and interest.
“No way,” Kelsey said. “Do you know how many times Dad tried to trick me by telling me it tastes like chicken?”
“A flowery description but creative,” Everett said. “Personally, I think it tastes more like butter that finally grew up.”
Oh, that was good. She refused to acknowledge the comment and continued with her order. “For the main courses, let’s do the seafood paella and the jamón de bellota. And on the Italian side, the squid-ink tonnarelli.”
“Black spaghetti? Cool. And a margherita pizza,” Kelsey threw in at the last second, grinning at Rowan. “Insurance.”
Everett cocked his head, probably doing mental math even though the man could buy the entire menu if he was in charge of Purity. “That seems . . . ambitious.”
She’d won. There was no way he could eat like her. Rowan refused to examine the tiny flash of disappointment. “Understood. We’ll remove whatever you’d like. It’s probably overkill.”
The waiter looked disappointed. “It truly is a beautiful order,” he said.
Everett gave a grunt, glancing from the waiter to Rowan. “You think you can eat all that?” he asked mildly.
“Yes.”
A wolfish grin flashed, full of arrogance and masculinity that made heat scratch up her spine. “Then we need it all.”
The waiter beamed. “Drinks?”
“Sangria?” Kelsey looked hopeful.