2. Vanessa
2
VANESSA
It’s still light out when I leave the restaurant. My date had been planned as an early dinner, so when I gaze out at the ocean, the kaleidoscope of the setting sun’s colors beckons me to do more with my time. In the two weeks I’ve been here, I’ve spent every night binging Netflix and going to bed early. I don’t want to do that tonight.
And not just because there’s a tiki bar in the back of my mind.
So instead of going home, I take my time strolling down Main Street. It’s such an adorable beach town, even just taking in the sights and sounds of my new home is enjoyable. There are families everywhere, having dinner at the pizza shop or waiting in line at the ice cream parlor. I stop in a few of the antique shops, too tempted by the beautiful beach house décor to just pass by. I even put a hold on one of the mermaid paintings to pick up tomorrow.
By the time I’m walking down to the beach, back toward my house, I feel lighter. Happier. With the ocean wind on my face and the cool sand between my toes, I can’t stop smiling.
This is what I needed. This is why I moved to the beach house. A change of pace, a simpler life, finally being able to take a breath—this is what I’ve been missing.
I don’t know if it’s a conscious decision or one born on good feelings, but before I know it, I’m walking into the tiki bar.
It’s busy. Even at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night, this place is packed full of people enjoying their summer. But it’s a huge bar stretching out onto the sand and the live band is playing reggae, so the vibe is still relaxed. I don’t know why I waited so long to come in here.
“Hey, honey, what can I get you to drink?”
I slide onto one of the open barstools and focus my attention on the female bartender. “Umm, would you hate me if I said something sweet and summery?”
She chuckles and immediately reaches for a glass. “Sweet and summery is my specialty, I got you. Rum okay for the liquor?”
I nod. “Yes, thank you.”
After she slides the drink in front of me, she waits for me to try it. And when my eyes widen and I take another longer sip from the straw, she grins.
“It’s our take on the pina colada. It’s the local favorite.”
“It’s so good,” I gush, taking another sip. “I can’t remember the last time I had a drink that wasn’t wine.”
Her nose crinkles in distaste, though she tries to hide it. “If you ask me, beach cocktails are the best kinds of refreshments.”
“I think you may have converted me,” I say with an easy laugh, sliding some cash across the bar.
She winks as she takes it. “Let me know if I can get you anything else, honey.”
I swivel on the barstool so I can watch the band as I enjoy my drink. It doesn’t take long for me to relax into my seat and start bobbing along to the music. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good, this carefree.
I’m so focused on the feeling that it takes me a second to realize Ryder is at the other end of the bar.
My breath catches at the sight of him. He hasn’t noticed me, too focused on his friends standing around him, chatting and laughing over their beers. Since he’s not looking this way, I take the opportunity to admire the view.
It’s obvious he just came from the restaurant. He’s still wearing his black slacks, but the white button-up that looked so formal as a work uniform is now hanging out of his back pocket, a simple white t-shirt the only thing covering his upper body.
And God , his body.
He’s got the kind of lean, cut-up body that men go to the gym for hours to achieve. Part of me wonders if that’s why Ryder is ripped, or if there’s another reason he looks the way he does.
Does he do sports? Does he have a physically demanding day job? Is the restaurant his only job? I wonder who he is outside of his waiter uniform.
The randomness of that last thought has me choking on my drink. That is so far beyond just admiring him physically. I have no business thinking of him like that.
Even if he did kind of invite me here.
I think back to his reaction when I ate my first bite of dessert. To the way he looked at me when I flirted back. How he shed his professional persona just so he could mention this exact bar. And I think…
Yeah, he definitely started it.
I watch him for another moment as he laughs with his friends. The smile on his face is contagious, even from across the bar. What would it be like to have his full attention?
Before I can second-guess myself, I wave down the bartender.
“Another sweet and summery?” she asks.
“Actually, I’m hoping you can send someone a drink for me,” I say, handing her some more cash. “The guy at the end of the bar in the white t-shirt? Can you give him a refill of whatever he’s drinking?”
The biggest grin slides across her face. “Damn, good pick.” She reaches for a glass and tips the beer handle without even looking. “I’ll tell ya, if I was single and ten years younger, that’s exactly the kind of guy I’d be jumping on.”
Her words send a spark of shock through me. Oh my God, she’s right. He’s a decade younger than me. What was I thinking? What on earth would he want with a woman like me?
Regret drops like lead in my stomach. “Actually, wait, I don’t think?—”
But she’s already walked off, my voice drowning in the sounds of the bar.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble under my breath, sinking down into my seat and wishing the ground would swallow me whole. My gaze darts around the bar, looking for an exit, but of course the universe chose this moment to pack the bar tightly with people all around me. There’s nowhere to go without pushing my way through.
I almost don’t want to watch. But I can’t help myself; I have to see Ryder’s reaction. Will he be confused? Disappointed? I knew he was just being polite at the restaurant...
But then the bartender slides the beer in front of him, and her head jerks over her shoulder. And I watch in a frozen stupor as Ryder’s gaze shifts from the drink…to me.
The smile that appears on his face is blinding.
It’s enough to make the tension in my chest loosen. Slightly. I even manage a little wave.
If possible, that makes his grin even wider. I see his lips move as he says something, though his eyes never leave mine. And then he’s pushing his way through the crowd and heading right in my direction.
The barstools around me have all been taken, but there’s a spot beside mine that he immediately slides into. And suddenly, he’s close enough that I can smell the intoxicating scent of him, can see the way his curly hair has given up on staying styled and is now plastered with sweat against his face in a few places. With his beer in one hand and the other braced on the bar top, he looks entirely comfortable being in my proximity.
“Hi, Vanessa,” he says, his voice like silk. He sounds nothing like the professional waiter I met two hours ago. Now, he sounds like a man —charms turned up to level one thousand.
My mouth goes dry.
“Hi,” I squeak out. I clear my throat and try again. “I decided to take you up on your bar recommendation.”
That mischievous twinkle in his eyes brightens. “I’m very happy to see that.”
I can’t summon a breath to respond to that.
He takes pity on me and nods toward his beer. “Thank you for the drink. But aren’t I supposed to be the one to buy you a drink?”
I gather the rest of my courage, trying to find the woman I was five minutes ago before this second-guessing kicked in. “Would you have?” I ask.
His gaze pierces right through me. “Every night until you sent me away.”
God. I’m not equipped to handle this man.
His eyes flick to the drink in my hand. “I see Sami talked you into her favorite cocktail.”
My gaze jumps over to the bartender, eyebrows lifting. “Wow, this really is a small town. Does everyone know everyone?”
He chuckles and takes a sip of his beer. I have to fight to not gape at the sight of his throat moving on the swallow.
“Just the people who work here year-round,” he answers. “When the summer crowd isn’t here, it’s a pretty small town.”
I nod in understanding, even though I can’t picture what that kind of community is like. I’ve lived in big cities all my life—knowing the bartender’s favorite drink isn’t something I’ve ever experienced.
“So, you’re here on vacation, I’m assuming? I would’ve noticed you before if you lived here.”
I take a big breath. “Actually, I just moved here.”
Ryder’s eyebrows rise. “Really? Why’s that?”
Welp, might as well be honest. He’s already seen me get stood up tonight.
“My divorce was just finalized, and I got the beach house in the settlement.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. It was the only thing I wanted, to be honest. And it was nice to finally get out of the city.”
“Yeah, this place is way better than living in a city,” Ryder agrees. Then he clears his throat and takes another sip of his beer. “So, uh, was tonight your first date since the split?”
I don’t tamp down my cringe. “Don’t even remind me. The fact that you witnessed that humiliation makes it ten times worse.”
Is he moving closer, or is that just my imagination? “Trust me, the humiliation is completely on his end,” Ryder says in a low voice.
Spinning the glass in front of me, I have to tear my gaze away from his in order to answer the original question. “But, um, yes, tonight was the first one. If I can even count it.”
I hear the hesitation in his voice when he asks, “Is everything still…fresh? I mean, if you’d rather be alone, I completely understand. I know branching out socially after a breakup is hard.”
That amuses me, as thoughtful as it is. “Ryder, I’m the one who sent you a drink.”
I don’t know if it’s hearing me say his name—in this setting—or the flirtatious undertone, but the sparkle returns to his eyes, his lips lifting into a satisfied smile.
“You’re right, you did.”
Reality seems to settle, along with the seriousness of his question. Ryder feels it too, because he glances at the beer before asking, “So, not that I’m not ridiculously glad that your ex fumbled the bag, but I’m curious…what exactly did he do to lose you?”
And maybe it’s because it feels so easy to talk to him, or because I somehow know that Ryder doesn’t have a judgmental bone in his body, but I don’t question it, don’t even have to take a sip of my drink for the sad story to spill out.
I let out a heavy exhale, feeling lighter already. “I walked in on him fucking another woman.”
Ryder’s eyes widen at my bluntness. Even I’m taken aback by my words. I’m never crass, and so far, I’ve kept the real reason for our split under wraps when talking to other people, but…I’m sick of covering for my ex.
“Jesus. And I thought the blind date guy was an idiot.”
My shrug is stiff as I huff a laugh. “I guess I’ve never really attracted winners.”
Ryder’s eyes narrow. “Bullshit.”
Once again, his words steal my breath. “You don’t even know me,” I manage, feeling my cheeks flush.
“I know when a beautiful woman isn’t being appreciated,” he says. And yeah, he’s definitely gotten closer. “I said it at the restaurant, and I’ll say it again: anyone who isn’t dying to be with you isn’t worth a second of your time.”
I swallow against a suddenly dry mouth, lost in his intensity and unsure of what to say, but feeling my heart beat faster in excitement all the same.
He takes pity on me and breaks our eye contact, his gaze dropping down to his drink.
“So…I have a question for you. And you have to be honest.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“How was your dinner tonight, really?”
His question is so much more professional than I expected that I have to blink away my surprise before I can answer.
“I wasn’t lying at the restaurant,” I tell him. “It really was the best dinner I’ve had.”
His eyes search mine curiously. “And why’s that?”
I let out a puff of laughter. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“I’m not sure I could handle a compliment from you.”
I arch an eyebrow in response. “The service was exemplary.”
An honest to God shudder runs through the man.
“Yup, I was right,” he says, nodding with exaggeration.
Another breath of laughter leaves my lips. “ You stop with the compliments; I already gave you a good tip.”
“God, as if I needed another reason to like you,” he moans. “Elegant, witty, and tips 50%? I think I’m half in love already.”
I duck my head to hide my smile.
He, on the other hand, doesn’t do anything to hide his grin.
“Alright, now that we’ve established that I succeeded in waiting on you hand and foot, how about the food? Please don’t tell me those moans were fake. That would break my heart.”
I look up at him through my eyelashes. “No, they weren’t fake.”
Desire blazes in his eyes. There’s no more denying it: the heat between us is palpable.
“Thank God,” he says in that low voice. “My ego couldn’t handle you not liking the food.”
That startles me enough to knock me out of the lust-filled haze I’m drowning in. “Why would that affect your ego?”
He takes a big swallow of beer. To cool off? “Because my family owns the restaurant.” My eyes widen in surprise, but he keeps going. “Remember Chris? That’s actually dear old dad, checking in on his kid.” His lip quirks with a smile that has me chuckling behind my hand. “And sometimes I work as the chef. I didn’t tonight, obviously, but I would’ve died a painful death inside if you didn’t like our food.”
Once again, I can only blink. For a breath. And then another.
“You’re…a chef?”
He merely nods.
“I… That’s… Wow.”
A grin stretches across Ryder’s face. “I’d kill to know what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours right now.”
I’m thinking you were hot before, but picturing you as a chef? Cooking, and then feeding me?
I didn’t have a chef kink before, but I definitely do now.
His smirk tells me he might know exactly what’s going on in my head, so I evade his question with one of my own. “Wait, so…if you’re the chef, why are you working as a waiter?”
“Because I’m set to take over the restaurant soon, and I figured it would be a good idea to spend time in every role. Get a better understanding of the place as a whole.”
“Oh. That makes a lot of sense.” Then the enormity of what he just said really hits me. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”
As he leans even closer, his eyes narrow playfully. “How old are you ?” he asks instead.
I purse my lips, eyebrow lifting. “Surely, your mother taught you it’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”
He lets out an exaggerated sigh and places his half-empty glass on the bar top. “You’re absolutely right, she did. My apologies.” His gaze slides over my face, my shoulders, my body. “It’s a stupid question anyway—you’re obviously not a day over twenty-two.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes, even as I smile. “You’re such a charmer .”
“Not charming,” he corrects. He waits until I meet his eyes again before saying, “Just honest.”
There’s no doubt I’m blushing now.
“But to answer your question, I’m twenty-five. A little young to take over a restaurant, I agree. But my father’s not going anywhere, so it’s not like I’ll be left to my own devices as soon as the papers are signed.”
“Still, that’s really impressive,” I press. “It’s obvious that the restaurant is well-liked and successful, so taking over something like that is a huge deal.”
“Well, now you’ve got me nervous,” he mumbles.
My hand lands on his forearm, feeling a tingle beneath my fingertips on contact. “You’re going to be amazing at it. Anyone can see that.”
His gaze drops to where my hand was before meeting my eyes again. I wonder if he felt that too.
“And you say I’m a charmer,” he says with a grin.
I wave him off. “I’m serious. Even the fact that you’re putting yourself into every role in the restaurant just so you have a complete understanding of the business is impressive. You’re already setting yourself up for success. Not to mention, you’re clearly excited about it.” After he nods his confirmation, my attention drifts over to the beach, out to the water. And I’m talking more to myself than Ryder when I say, “It must be fulfilling to have something you’re so passionate about.”
When he doesn’t respond right away, I look back at him standing by my side. He’s watching me, his expression thoughtful.
“What are you passionate about?” he asks.
I was entirely prepared to answer questions about myself when I set out for my blind date tonight, but I wasn’t prepared for that person to actually care about the answers.
Ryder cares.
“I think that’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I whisper.