Chapter 11 #2
“Oh?” I raise a brow. “Because I happen to hold a PhD in Economics, and your claim fails the logic test, and the confidence interval’s not doing you any favors either.”
Knox squints, feigning betrayal. “So, hitting me with an audit? On our first date?”
“Yep,” I say, licking a bit of lobster from my thumb. “And so far, the margin of error is…generous.”
Knox laughs, then leans forward, elbows on the table. “Alright, Doctor Econ. What’s your final verdict?”
I sip my iced tea, letting the moment stretch before answering. “Food’s a win. You? Trending dangerously likable.”
There’s a flicker of something tender beneath his grin as though my words have caught him off guard, which is maybe what I like most—how we keep surprising each other.
After our meal, we wander onto Crystal Cove Boardwalk, fingers intertwined, tipsy on iced tea, lobster rolls, and the afterglow of banter that leaves your whole body humming.
I feel like the star of some sun-drenched-summer Hallmark movie—air thick with kettle corn, sunscreen, and sea spray as my handsome co-star and I meander past vendors hawking saltwater taffy and tie-dye hoodies.
A golden retriever trots past, stick clenched in its mouth, tugging barefoot twins who are laughing too hard to care, just as Walking on Sunshine blasts from a nearby speaker, a little too loud yet perfectly on-brand.
Up ahead, a toddler clumsily offers her pink cotton candy to a gray-haired man in a World’s Best Grandpa T-shirt. A sticky wisp catches the breeze and clings to her sundress, setting off a burst of infectious giggles.
I pause for half a breath, taking it all in: the sunlight, the sugar-sweet air, the sound of distant waves tangled with laughter. Knox holding my hand. Moments you don’t realize you’ve been craving until you’re standing in the middle of it all, wondering how something so simple can feel so rare.
Knox nudges my elbow, a teasing glint back in his eyes. “Ferris wheel?”
Of course I say yes.
We make our way through the crowd, weaving between strollers and spilled popcorn, until the Ferris wheel comes into view, its white spokes spinning slowly against the cloudless sky.
The line isn’t long, but it’s enough for butterflies to start flapping. The Knox-induced kind, not the Ferris-wheel kind.
Knox rests his hand lightly on the small of my back, his touch sending chills up my spine.
“Scared of heights?” he asks, a delicious rumble near my ear.
I tilt my head up, my playful gaze meeting his equally playful one. “Only if I’m up there with someone who talks too much.”
He smirks. “Lucky for you, I’m a great listener.”
The operator—short, round, and sunburned, with wraparound shades and a faded staff tee that reads Ride the Magic—waves us forward, unlatching the gate with a clank that echoes louder than expected.
Knox gestures for me to go first, then follows, sliding in beside me on the narrow bench, his thigh brushing mine.
The bar locks with a noticeable click, followed by a gentle jolt as the wheel eases into motion, each creaking rotation lifting us closer to heaven.
As the boardwalk shrinks beneath us, my heart stirs like it knows what’s coming. Another kiss.
Knox’s gaze lingers on the horizon, arm stretched behind me, fingers lazily tracing the curve of my shoulder as I lean in.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He gently squeezes my shoulder. “For…?”
“For making my first real date feel like it mattered. For saying I’m worth it.”
Quiet lingers, a suspended hush brimming with more than words can carry.
Knox’s fingers drift from my shoulder to the nape of my neck, igniting a low, aching blaze that skates down my spine. I close my eyes under the slow sweep of his touch, and when they flutter open, his gaze is already on me, dark, unflinching, full of something I’m not sure I can name.
“You’re the first woman I’ve actually wanted to spend time with, truly be with, since my divorce.”
The raw honesty nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“And you’re the first guy I’ve wanted this close in over a year,” I whisper, the words spilling out like a confession.
Knox’s palm lifts to cradle my cheek, thumb grazing lightly, gentle but with a gravity that steals my breath.
Our lips meet, tentative for only a heartbeat before restraint gives way to something fervent. Hungrier.
His hand slides to the nape of my neck, warmth from his touch sweeping down my spine as I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer.
Heat builds fast.
Wild. Heady. Consuming.
Mouths part. Tongues tangle.
The world slips out of focus.
Music and laughter drift up from the boardwalk, distant and dreamy, like a cherished memory on replay.
His scent—sun, soap, cologne—wraps around me. My fingers tighten in his hair, and I feel featherlight. Lit from within. Fragile and blazing, all at once.
When our kiss finally slows, I’m flushed, breathless, lips tingling, heart drumming.
“I don’t want to stop,” Knox rasps, nose brushing mine, fingers still tangled in my hair.
“Then don’t,” I breathe, lips ghosting over his. “We’ve got the whole ride down.”