Chapter 11
Landon
True to my word, I sat against the wall the entire night and watched Zoe sleep. She tossed and turned for hours, mumbled a little bit, but eventually she settled into a deep sleep. Deep enough for me to tuck her jacket over mine to keep her warm.
I don’t understand what happened last night. One minute we were making out and the next she was insulting me in the most adorable of ways.
She thinks I can manipulate her?
Manipulate? No. Influence? She gave up a childhood dream because of an offhanded comment from a stranger, so it’s not unlikely.
The second biggest takeaway is that her dad is sicker than anyone knows. Sick enough that she knows he can’t do his job, but he’s also stubborn enough not to let her have it.
Is he the one who convinced her she needs to be mayor when he retires?
Seems so.
I’ve never met someone so passionate about anything in my life.
What is it like to glow so brightly?
To care so deeply?
So completely?
Especially about an inanimate object that could have been destroyed in the storm as quickly as her car when it fell over the edge of the cliff.
Her passion isn’t something that’s learned. It’s innate to who she is, and its hypnotic.
Why doesn’t the same passion she has for this house extend to following her dreams?
She doesn’t even realize she has this fire.
She stamps out her enthusiasm to make small-minded people happy.
Her biggest fear wasn’t that we kissed—it was that the people she works for would find out and fire her dad. She lets their opinions about her actions determine where she spends her energy, and that’s not fair. To her or to me.
Why don’t they see what an asset she is and how this town benefits from her leadership? Kissing me hasn’t changed that.
What can I do to make her see I want…but what do I want?
I don’t even know. Where do I hope this leads?
Zoe’s the kind of woman who gets under your skin. You can’t date her for a few months and then move on.
But I’m not the kind of guy who stays.
That’s not fair to her either.
I run my hand around the back of my neck. Her hands are tucked adorably under her chin. Her features are peaceful and calm, the opposite of her scrunched forehead and pursed lips as she fell asleep.
I want that peace.
I want her passion.
I want to absorb them through my skin, so they are as innate a part of who I am as they are for her.
Can peace and passion be taught?
Spending more time with her is the only way I can think of to learn to embody her intensity.
Will she let me?
How do I convince her I don’t want to use or manipulate her?
Maybe if I convince her we should be friends, she’ll let her guard down enough to show me where her passion comes from.
Damn, but I want to kiss her again. Her pillow-soft lips. The little sighs deep in her chest that rumbled into mine.
I want that too.
Like drinking from her passion’s fire hydrant, I want to drown in it.
But I can’t.
I need to keep my wits about me.
The sun filters through the windows as dawn breaks, and Zoe stretches her arms above her head, tugging my shirt up and gifting me a sweet glance of the soft skin across her stomach.
My lips want to explore that skin, but I won’t let myself.
Peace of mind is more important than the lust coursing through my veins. My nails dig into my palms as a reminder to keep myself in check.
She languidly continues her stretch, then she freezes. Bolting upright, her gaze searches the room, landing on me.
I lift my hands to calm her. “Good morning.”
“What time is it?”
I tap the face of my smart watch. “Battery died, but my guess would be around 7:00 a.m.”
“We need to go.” She scrambles to her feet and drags the blankets into her arms.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?”
“I meet with everyone at The Bright Spot every morning. They’ll know something’s wrong if I’m not there.”
I gesture toward the front door. “And how do you expect to get there? My car doesn’t have wings.”
“The cliff.”
“The cliff?” I climb to my feet. “What about the cliff? Do you have base-jumping suits I’m unaware of? Parachutes?”
She exhales like I’m the most annoying person in the world. “There are stairs from the top of the cliff down to the beach. That’s how I normally get up here when I don’t want people to know.”
“And you didn’t share this information last night because…?”
“Because they’re not that safe. At least, not in the middle of a thunderstorm. They should be fine today.” She shrugs. “Fine-ish.”
“Fine-ish?”
“They’re old. Rusty. But we should be able to climb down. I think.” She hugs the blankets to her chest and marches for the front door.
“Planning to carry the blankets down with you?”
She stares at the wad in her arms like she just realized what she’s doing.
“Old habit, I guess.” She tosses them to the side and continues down the hallway.
My jacket swings around her thighs, and the cuffs of my sweatpants swish across the old hardwood floors.
I doubt she remembers she’s wearing my clothing.
Do I tell her? I don’t know what she did with her dress, but it’s unlikely she wants to meet her friends in my sweatpants.
She swings the front door open, catching it before it slams into the wall. I loop my duffel bag over my shoulder with my briefcase inside. “Zoe, your shoes.”
She freezes on the front stoop, and her gaze drops to her feet. Her hands ball into fists, and she presses them into her eye sockets. She whispers damn it under her breath, so I pretend I didn’t hear her.
She spins on her toe. “I’ll be right back.
” Ten minutes later, she’s dressed in yesterday’s clothes with her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head.
Her neck is a temptation I didn’t anticipate.
She loved when I nibbled on her earlobe, pressing her chest into mine and pulling me closer.
I want to feel her against me. I want to ignite her passion and free her from the strict rules other people set for her.
I dig my nails into my palms again. Get yourself together, man. You can’t think like that. Friends only. That’s enough of a challenge. Don’t make building that relationship harder than it needs to be.
She presses my clothes into my hands and passes without another word.
We walk down the cascading terraces toward her favorite overlook, but before she reaches the last step she turns left and weaves her way into the forest. About a hundred yards in, a metal post sticks up from the edge of the cliff.
She walks to the edge and hops off. My heart seizes in the split second before a clang reverberates.
I jog to the edge. The platform at the top of the stairs is about four feet below the edge and hidden behind a clump of bushes.
The steps zigzag across the cliff face, down to a secluded curve of Driftwood Cove Beach, the town’s public swimming area.
No way would I have found this on my own.
I hesitantly lower myself and follow her as she descends.
She doesn’t seem concerned about the integrity of the steps.
These will need to be inspected and solidified, if we keep them at all.
While it is handy to have the stairs today, I don’t want an extra access point that security will need to inspect if my guests are not willing to climb the 400-foot elevation in their flipflops and board shorts.
Realistically, how often will they want to go to the beach? The water is likely only swimmable in August, so we’re talking walks on the beach more than days in the sun.
Zoe has barely broken a sweat when we reach the pebbled beach.
The silence between us is too loud. I need to hear her voice. “How did you know about the stairs? Part of the Reeves rumor mill?”
She pulls my jacket from her shoulders and hands it to me. “I swim.”
“What?” No way did I hear her right. Did I mention my guests not visiting the beach out loud? I don’t think so.
She flicks her fingers toward the rolling waves in the distance. “Every morning, I swim. I saw them one day, so I climbed to the top.”
“Not your mom?”
“Would you tell your four-year-old daughter about stairs like those?”
“Well, no.” Joy bubbles in my chest. I can picture Zoe, wet from a swim, wandering to the base of the stairs, curiosity driving her to climb to the top.
“That sounds like you.”
She bites her bottom lip but doesn’t ask me to elaborate like I hoped she would. She knows she’s adventurous at heart, right?
“Isn’t it cold?”
“I wear a wet suit. It’s fine.”
“Even in March?” Even I don’t have the cajónes to swim in the Pacific in the middle of winter.
“Half an hour yesterday morning.”
“Wow.” I want to ask her a million questions. When did she start? Why? Was she a swimmer before, or was this a spontaneous decision? Because no one swims in forty-degree ocean water for the fun of it. She has to have a reason.
But I also know she won’t tell me. And there’s a different conversation that’s more pressing. We’re almost to the parking lot.
“We need to talk about last night.”
She holds her hands up. “Last night didn’t happen,” she whispers. Her eyes dart around the empty beach. “You saved me from my car, and we got trapped at the estate, but that’s all that happened.”
“I don’t like secrets.”
“What does it benefit you besides ruining my reputation to tell everyone that I kissed you?”
“I like you. I like kissing you. I’m hoping I can get you to do it again.” Shit. No. You want to be her friend, you idiot.
She grimaces. “That was a case of temporary insanity brought on by hypothermia and possible lead poisoning.”
“That’s a lot of excuses for something that we both enjoyed.”
“Landon, please. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll lose my job if they find out.”
“Is there a rule the mayor’s assistant can’t date?”
“I’m making it now. The town needs my entire focus.”
“Can I at least buy you coffee? Get you breakfast?”
She walks backward. “If you hurry, you can catch a ride to Pine Ridge with Collin. He lives three blocks that way. You’ll see his truck.” As soon as her boots hit the sidewalk, she breaks into a jog, not bothering to look back.
Zoe is a dichotomy I can’t wrap my mind around. Passionate and driven when it comes to how I renovate the estate, but scared and timid when it comes to a relationship with me. Even if it’s just friendship.
She was all in on that kiss until she let other people’s opinions decide her priorities. She could be a powerful woman if she wanted to be. Powerful and assertive and exactly what I need in my life.
If she’s not willing to fight, I’ll have to show her how good it can be if she does.