Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
CHASE
After knocking on the front door, I fiddled with my tie, shifting from one foot to the other on Harper’s front porch.
The door flung open, launching my stomach to my throat when I saw her standing in the doorway, and I forgot how to function.
Her chestnut hair was styled and loose around her shoulders, subtle makeup enhancing her already striking features.
She wore a dress in the exact shade of wow.
“Hi,” I managed, my voice not obeying basic laws of sound. “You look incredible.”
She blinked in surprise, then let out a small laugh. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
The dress was a deep emerald that made her eyes a richer brown than I’d ever seen them.
And the way it hugged her curves, just enough but not too much, made me want to stare for way longer than what was probably acceptable.
She shifted from one leg to the other, and I realized I was still staring. I needed to pull it together.
I wanted this to be perfect. Different from work. Different from family. Different enough that there was no mistaking it for anything but what it was—a real, actual date. “I can hardly wait to show you off. How about a little dinner?”
Her cheeks flushed. I couldn’t tell if it was the humidity or the compliment that caused it, but either way, it was a nice contrast against the green of her dress. “Dinner sounds lovely. Should we go?”
I nodded, knowing my voice would probably betray me if I spoke again.
As she locked up, I took in the small, screened-in porch.
It was cluttered but cozy, with potted plants mingling with Finn’s toys and some practical but mismatched furniture.
What was it like to come home to a place like this, filled with warmth and life?
We reached my SUV, and I opened the passenger door for her. She glanced at my hand as I offered it, almost like she was surprised, but then took it. Her touch sent a jolt through me. “Thank you,” she said, settling into the seat.
As I got in on my side, the only sound was the smooth hum of the engine and the sultry voice of superstar singer Sutton Vale singing one of her ballads.
I hadn’t felt this kind of tension since high school prom.
Back then, it was sweaty palms and not knowing where to put them.
Now it was realizing how much was at stake.
“So,” I said, trying to break the silence as we pulled out. I turned the distraction of the radio off. “What is Finn up to?”
“Spending the night with Aunt Brenna and Uncle Hunter,” she replied, her eyes catching mine. “He’s very excited.”
“Glad to hear it.” I smiled, relaxing slightly. “I might not be able to compete with an ex-Special Forces soldier, but I’m not too bad at reservations.”
“Are you bribing me with dinner, Ashworth?” she teased, leaning back in her seat.
“Maybe. You’re worth it.”
We fell into a more comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled because it isn’t awkward—it’s just nice. My SUV’s sleek interior was a contrast to her lived-in porch. It was all polished and organized, much like my life until recently.
She broke the silence as we drove over the causeway, nodding to a billboard for Calypso Key Resort featuring Orchid Restaurant and its executive chef, Stella Markham. The restaurant was famous as one of the best fine dining places in the Lower Keys. “Trying to impress me with the competition?”
I couldn’t hide my grin. “Uh-oh. Does it ruin the surprise?”
“On the contrary, I’m intrigued.” She looked back at me, eyes sparkling. “Especially since I have a cookbook authored by Stella in the cottage.”
I shrugged like it was no big deal. Like I wasn’t trying hard on every conceivable level. “I thought a change of scenery might be nice. Somewhere we can be just us. Not General Manager Coleridge and the Architect.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said softly.
It was like she was letting her guard down in stages.
As we parked at Calypso Key Resort, the last bit slipped away.
We ambled down a softly lit path to a pale pink, one-story building overlooking the western edge of the small island.
The place was stunning, low-lit and elegant, the hum of conversation subdued but vibrant.
We were shown to a secluded, prime table on the patio overlooking the water, lit by soft candlelight and surrounded by potted orchids.
The scent of the sea mingled with something floral and sophisticated.
“This is incredible.” Harper glanced around. “Thank you.”
We relaxed in our seats, and the feeling was everything I’d hoped for.
More. Orchid was a crown jewel kind of restaurant, and it showed.
The attentive service and pristine setting were flawless.
But it was the contrast to our normal days that made this so special.
No interruptions. No expectations. Just the two of us, away from everything and everyone we knew.
A server in black slacks and a neat white shirt and apron appeared, and I ordered wine, hoping I didn’t screw it up. As he disappeared, I realized I was leaning across the table, hanging on Harper’s every word as she described the menu with an unexpected passion.
I was seeing Harper without the constant demands of life pulling at her from every angle, and she was mesmerizing. Her laugh was full and relaxed as she told me about Finn’s latest escapade.
They offered a selection of catch of the day specials and we each ordered one. Her animated expression as she shared an anecdote about a younger Braden chasing Eli around with a blowtorch and a bottle of gin during Driftwood Dragon Weekend made me want to prolong the night indefinitely.
“I don’t remember seeing you this laid back,” she mentioned after brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Is this a new thing?”
I took a sip of the heady red wine, pleased with my choice. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Eli would say I’m wound tighter than a steel cable.”
“I beg to differ. You’re not wound tight, just steady.”
“Which is worse?”
She eyed me. “I find steady very sexy.”
It struck me then. How much I wanted this. Wanted her.
As we ate our salads, the conversation inevitably turned to the renovation. But there was no trace of tension, no butting heads over different visions. I wanted to know more, how she was really coping. I studied her face. “How do you feel about taking on a loan after all?”
Originally, my partnership and investment were designed to avoid external financing. But it hadn’t worked out that way after we decided to renovate multiple areas at once to speed up the overall project.
She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “Honestly? Worried at first. But it was the only option, and with you onboard…” She paused to meet my eyes, sincerity obvious in hers. “I feel like we might actually pull it off. Thank you for believing in us.”
I swallowed, trying to mask how deeply her words impacted me. How much they meant. I couldn’t look away from her. “I didn’t invest just to help. I invested because I knew you’d make it work. We’d make it work.”
Before she could respond, our entrees arrived, a flawless presentation of fish fresh from local waters.
“Oh, wow. This looks incredible,” she said, examining her plate.
“I told you this was a bribe.”
She laughed again, the sound everything I wanted this night to be.
I was about to change the subject when Stella Markham herself came over to our table.
“Harper Coleridge, the busiest woman in Dove Key.” Her voice was friendly and assured.
In her mid-thirties, with dark hair pulled back, Stella had a confident energy that was vibrant and alive even under the restraint of a crisp chef’s coat.
“I saw you from the kitchen and thought I’d say hello. What brings you all the way over here?”
Harper grinned, standing to give Stella a hug. “Chase does,” she said, full of pride and something else I couldn’t quite pin down. “We’ve got him all tied up with the resort renovation, but I’ve corralled him into a break.”
Stella’s eyes flicked to me, sizing me up with the expert precision of a head chef dissecting a challenging dish. “So, you’re the man behind the project everyone’s talking about.”
“Chase Ashworth, Latitudes Design.” I briefly rose to shake her hand. It couldn’t be a bad idea for a Markham to know my firm’s name.
“I’ll have to take a proper tour when it’s all said and done.” She then nodded toward our steaming entrees, her professional focus returning. “How is everything looking?”
Harper leaned forward, her eyes shining as she took in her plate. “Stella, it looks absolutely incredible. We haven’t even taken a bite yet, but the presentation alone is breathtaking.”
A spark of passion ignited in Stella’s eyes, transforming her from a sharp businesswoman to an animated artist. “You both made excellent choices. My father actually brought those in himself this afternoon. Harper, your snapper was line-caught just off Sombrero Reef around two o’clock.
It’s pan-seared with that citrus-herb butter.
It should melt in your mouth.” She turned to me, pride evident on her face.
“And Chase, your dorado was speared by him near the old freighter wreck, the Benson. We’re serving it with a citrus-mango salsa and coconut rice tonight.
Both are about as fresh as it gets without eating it on the boat. ”
The way she spoke about the fish and the direct connection to her father was why I loved having local connections like this.
Stella shot us both a smile. “But enough yammering. I’ll let you both enjoy your dinner.” She gave Harper another quick nod, then to me. “Nice to meet you, Chase. Perhaps when Sunset Siesta is finished, Calypso Key will need to hire you for our next big project to keep up.”
She grinned, a flash of humor, then with a final, “Enjoy your night,” she was gone, disappearing back toward the hum of her kitchen as smoothly as she’d arrived.