Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
F ord
The sun’s going down, a chill settling in the air as I step onto my back deck, glass of whiskey in hand. I’m already dressed—black button down, jeans, boots. Casual, but not careless. I have to keep reminding myself this isn’t a date.
I sip the whiskey slowly, leaning against the railing, trying to let the cool air break through the heat crawling under my skin. I’ve checked my watch four times in the last ten minutes, and I hate myself for it.
Even the dogs are restless. Wes’s rescue mutt, Scout, who I somehow got roped into watching for the week, is pacing by the back door.
Stella, my Boston Terrier, is anxiously watching him.
I let them out of the house and toss a stick half-heartedly across the yard.
Neither of them chase it. They just look up at me like they know I’ve got too much on my mind.
I scrub a hand down my face. This was a bad idea.
One afternoon with Landyn, and I’m making reckless decisions. I shouldn’t have asked her to come for dinner. I shouldn’t care whether she shows up. But I do.
I walk inside, dump the glass in the sink without finishing it, and grab my keys. If she doesn’t show, I’ll order a beer. Eat a burger. Pretend this was never about her.
If she does…
I lock the door behind me before I can finish the thought.
Breakwater Bistro sits tucked against the coast, low lights glowing from the wraparound windows, the sound of the ocean just behind it providing a constant soundtrack. It’s upscale enough to pass for a date spot, but laid back enough that I won’t feel like a jackass if I end up eating alone.
I push through the front doors and nod at the hostess, a girl who looks fresh out of college and slightly startled to see me. Cove has roots in this town. People know who I am, and they know I don’t go out much.
“Mr. Winters,” she says, glancing down at her reservation list. “Do you have a preference for where you’d like to sit?”
“Corner table,” I say. “If it’s open.”
It is. Of course it is.
She leads me through the busy dining room, past the clinking glasses and murmured conversation, to a quiet table, half-tucked beneath the curve of a wide bay window. From here, I can see the water. I can also see the entrance.
I sit with my back to the wall and thank the hostess when she sets the menu down.
I don’t touch it. I check my watch. It’s 7:58. Not that I’m paying attention to the time.
The server comes over and I order a whiskey, neat.
I barely take a sip before I’m glancing toward the door again.
Every time it opens, my chest gets tight.
Every time it’s not her, it gets tighter.
I wonder what she’s doing. If she’s still standing in front of her closet, trying to talk herself out of this.
Or if she made up her mind hours ago and is letting her absence tell me all I need to know.
8:04.
I look down at the drink in my hand, swirl it, and try not to care.
The door opens again.
And this time, it’s her.
Landyn is wearing a black dress that hugs her body and falls just above the knee, simple but devastating.
The neckline dips just enough to make me forget how to breathe.
Her hair is pulled half up, soft waves brushing her shoulders, catching the light when she moves.
It’s not overdone—nothing about her ever is.
But somehow, she still looks like the most dangerous thing in the room.
Her eyes sweep the restaurant until they land on me. I don’t move. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. And for a second, I think she might turn around and walk out. But she doesn’t. She crosses the room with purpose, every step pulling a string tighter in my chest.
When she reaches the table, I stand automatically, dragging a hand over my jaw like it’ll help me keep it together.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey,” I echo, my voice low, rougher than I mean it to be.
I pull out her chair and she gives me a look—surprised, a little wary—but she takes a seat without saying anything. I sit down across from her and for a heartbeat, it’s just the two of us and the sound of the ocean outside the open windows.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I say quietly, sitting back down.
“I almost didn’t,” she answers, placing her purse on the chair next to her .
“But you did.”
She lifts one shoulder, her lips pressing together. “Yeah. I did.”
And just like that, something shifts. Not forgiven. Not forgotten. But something.
The waitress appears, breaking the moment. We both glance away like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. Landyn orders a glass of wine. I ask for another whiskey, neat. Once she’s gone, silence settles over the table again. Not the uneasy kind. This one feels like… waiting.
“You look beautiful,” I say, trying to keep it casual, but the words land heavier than I intended them to.
Her mouth tips into a cautious smile. “You clean up okay yourself, Mr. CEO.”
“I’m in a black button-down shirt, Landyn. That’s me trying.”
She huffs a laugh, and the sound untangles something tight in my chest. “Well, you wear it like you don’t care, so it works.”
“That’s the goal.”
She traces the rim of her water glass with one fingertip, her gaze moving to the view of the ocean outside the window.
“You always liked this place,” I say.
“I did. You used to bring me here when you wanted to bribe me after an argument.”
My brow lifts. “Not this time.”
She glances sideways at me. “No?”
“No,” I say, quieter now. “This is just me wanting to see you.”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away either.
“You’re different now,” she says finally. “You’re…steadier. ”
I shrug. “Maybe. Cove taught me how to stay still. And how not to blow things up when they get hard.”
She nods slowly. “That’s a good thing to learn.”
Her wine arrives. She lifts the glass, takes a slow sip, then sets it down carefully.
There’s so much I want to ask her. Why she really came back.
Why she left. What happened in the years between.
But I know better. Instead, I lean back in my chair and say, “Thank you for coming with me to the site.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “You really only take your brothers there?”
“You’ve been talking to Marco and Becca.”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “You’ve been watching me.”
I nod, slow and deliberate. There’s no point in denying it. “Guilty, and to answer your question… yeah. Or investors. But mostly my brothers.”
“Then why me?”
I hold her stare. “Besides Jesse setting it up, you mean? We spent so many hours dreaming about something like Cove. You had such a vision for it. I wanted to see if you still have that fire in you.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “And?”
I smirk. “Nothing’s changed.”
She looks down at her glass. A small smile curves her lips, but there’s a flicker of emotion there.
I lean in slightly, keeping my voice low. “Why’d you come back here, June? There are plenty of jobs you could have gotten that aren’t in Deep Cove.”
Her gaze shoots up to mine. The nickname hits its mark, just like I knew it would.
“I told you, ”she says, voice lighter now. “To build something new, And my parents are here so this seemed like a good place to do it.”
I nod, but I’m not ready to let it go. “So that’s what you came back to do. Why did you leave in the first place?”
Her lips part, and for a moment, I think she might actually tell me. That she might finally give me the piece of the puzzle I’ve always been missing. But she only shakes her head gently. “Some things hurt too much to look at.”
I sit with that. Let it sink in. Because I know exactly what she means.
Our food arrives, and the moment breaks but it lingers like smoke between us.
Landyn shifts in her seat, giving a small, appreciative sound at the sight of her food. “Okay,” she says, picking up her fork. “Truce over roasted chicken?”
I nod, lips twitching. “If that’s what you want, June.”