Chapter Two
Doris’s Driftwood Café had nine outdoor tables, three faded umbrellas, and one elderly owner who identified romantic tension with the efficiency of airport security.
Meagan had barely settled into her chair when Doris appeared beside the table and looked from her to Aaron.
“Well,” she said.
Aaron leaned back. “Good morning, Doris.”
“You brought someone today.”
“I’ve brought people before.”
“You brought Tyler once. He ordered plain oatmeal. That does not count.”
Meagan glanced at Aaron.
He lifted one shoulder as though he had already warned her.
Doris looked directly at Meagan. “Who are you?”
“Meagan Stirling.”
“You’re pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“You look tired.”
Across the table, Aaron lifted his menu, but not quickly enough to hide his smile.
Meagan kicked him beneath the table.
His knee shifted.
“I’ve had a busy week,” she told Doris.
“Busy is what people say when they don’t want you to ask why they look tired.” Doris placed a menu in front of Meagan. “Coffee?”
“I already have one.”
Doris glanced at the paper cup beside Meagan. “That is packaging.”
“She has standards,” Aaron said.
“She has good sense,” Doris corrected. “You should try it.”
“I come here four times a week.”
“And still order eggs without enough seasoning.”
Meagan smiled.
Aaron looked at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Just a little.”
Doris tapped the menu. “The lemon pancakes are good.”
“I’ll have those,” Meagan said.
Aaron’s eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“I expected you to order something efficient.”
Meagan folded the menu. “What is an efficient breakfast?”
“Egg whites. Fruit. Something you can eat while answering email.”
“That sounds depressing.”
“It also sounds familiar.”
She handed Doris the menu. “Lemon pancakes, please.”
Doris nodded approvingly before turning to Aaron. “Eggs, toast, fruit.”
“I was considering the pancakes.”
“No, you weren’t.”
She took his menu and walked away.
Aaron watched her go. “She likes me.”
“That is becoming difficult to prove.”
“She gave me fruit.”
“She said you tolerate fruit.”
“That is practically affection.”
Meagan looked past him toward the ocean.
The café sat half a block from the beach. Palm trees lined the street, and the air carried the faint scent of salt beneath the coffee and warm bread drifting from inside.
People passed on bicycles. A woman jogged with a small white dog wearing a matching blue bandanna. Beyond the buildings, sunlight flashed across a narrow strip of water.
It was peaceful.
That felt suspicious.
“You’re doing it again,” Aaron said.
She looked back. “Doing what?”
“Leaving.”
“I’m sitting right here.”
“Physically.”
Meagan narrowed her eyes. “You are becoming repetitive.”
“You were thinking about your hotel.”
She glanced at the cup in her hand. “How do you know?”
“You checked the time twice.”
“I have a checkout deadline.”
“What time?”
“Eleven.”
Aaron glanced at his watch. They had plenty of time.
“I’ll take you back after we drop off the banners.”
“That is unnecessary.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep saying unnecessary when you mean you can do it yourself.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I know.”
“That is not the point.”
“What is?”
Meagan opened her mouth.
No answer arrived that did not sound uncomfortably personal.
She was accustomed to handling things herself. That was not a flaw. It was an advantage.
People trusted her. Relied on her. They did not need to worry about whether she would show up or finish what she started.
Accepting help complicated that arrangement.
“I have a rental car.”
“We can come back for it.”
“You have work.”
“I’m already going to the foundation office.”
“You don’t need to rearrange your day for me.”
“I’m not rearranging it for you.”
“You are offering to drive me to my hotel, wait while I check out, and bring me back.”
“I wasn’t planning to wait.”
“Good.”
“I figured I’d sit in the lobby.”
Meagan stared at him.
Aaron smiled.
“You are very irritating.”
“I’ve heard that recently.”
Doris returned with two ceramic cups and placed one in front of each of them.
“I didn’t order this,” Meagan said.
“You needed it.”
“That is a dangerous business philosophy.”
“Drink.”
Meagan took a sip.
The coffee was dark, strong, and smooth.
Doris waited.
“It’s good,” Meagan admitted.
“I know it is.”
Aaron lifted his cup. “Do you require my opinion?”
“No. You’ve been coming here long enough to know better.”
She walked away.
Meagan wrapped both hands around the warm mug. “She’s terrifying.”
“You kicked me under the table.”
“You were laughing.”
“I was trying not to.”
“That does not make it better.”
His phone buzzed.
Aaron checked the screen but left the phone where it was.
“Work?” she asked.
“Foundation email.”
“You can answer it.”
“It’ll still be there after breakfast.”
“It might be important.”
“If it is, they’ll call.”
“That is a very relaxed approach.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Problems do not recognize weekends.”
“Neither do you, apparently.”
Before she could respond, her own phone buzzed inside her purse.
Aaron lifted an eyebrow.
She ignored him and pulled it out.
The first message was from Hailey.
Please tell me you left the garage.
The second was from Amanda.
Are you at breakfast with Aaron? Hailey is pretending she isn’t tracking you through friendship intuition.
The third was an email notification.
West Coast Volleyball Foundation: Moonlight on the Sand Annual Benefit
Meagan paused.
Aaron noticed. “What is it?”
“An invitation.”
She opened the email.
A photograph filled the screen. Tables covered in white linen stood beneath strings of lights overlooking the ocean. Beneath it, elegant lettering invited her to the foundation’s annual beachside fundraiser the following Saturday.
Dinner.
Dancing.
Silent auction.
Cocktail attire.
The invitation thanked her for her work during the charity tournament and included the option to bring one guest.
“You received the gala invitation,” Aaron said.
“How do you know?”
“Your expression.”
“What is wrong with my expression?”
“You looked interested, then suspicious.”
“That is not an expression.”
“It is on you.”
Meagan scrolled through the event information.
Sponsors.
Foundation leaders.
Athlete ambassadors.
Featured guests.
Then she saw the name.
Daniel Mercer — Director of Brand Partnerships, Hawthorne & Lowe.
The coffee in her stomach turned heavy.
She read the name again.
Daniel lived in New York, but Hawthorne & Lowe handled national accounts. He had recently moved into sports partnerships. It made sense that he would attend.
That did not mean she had to like it.
Meagan clicked his name.
A small photograph appeared beneath a professional biography.
Daniel wore a gray suit and the same polished smile she remembered. His dark hair was shorter, but otherwise, he looked unchanged.
Confident. Pleasant. Entirely in control.
She locked the phone.
Aaron’s expression had shifted.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Do not breathe judgmentally.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were preparing to.”
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
“The answer after ‘it’s nothing.’”
“There is no answer after it’s nothing.”
“There usually is.”
Meagan placed the phone facedown on the table.
Aaron did not ask again.
That should have made it easier not to explain.
Instead, the silence created too much space for the truth.
“Someone I know will be there.”
“Someone you don’t want to see?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You locked your phone as if it offended you.”
“It surprised me.”
“Who is he?”
Her gaze snapped to his.
Aaron’s eyebrows lifted. “So it is a he.”
“That was manipulative.”
“It was a guess.”
“A strategic guess.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
The calm acceptance disarmed her.
Meagan looked toward the beach.
“His name is Daniel.”
Aaron remained quiet.
“We worked together.”
“Only worked together?”
She turned back.
His tone was neutral. Too neutral.
“We dated.”
Something shifted in Aaron’s face.
“How long?”
“A little over a year.”
“When?”
“It ended eighteen months ago.”
“Badly?”
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
Aaron waited.
Meagan sighed. “Not exactly.”
Doris arrived with their plates before he could ask anything else.
The lemon pancakes were topped with berries and dusted with powdered sugar. A small pitcher of syrup sat beside them.
They smelled warm and sweet and entirely at odds with the tightness in Meagan’s chest.
Doris set Aaron’s eggs in front of him.
“You gave me potatoes,” he said.
“You have company. Try to appear joyful.”
“I appreciate your concern.”
Doris looked at Meagan. “He has been single too long.”
Aaron closed his eyes.
Meagan nearly choked on her coffee.
“He has?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Aaron’s eyes opened.
Doris nodded. “Work. Volleyball. Running on the beach like someone is chasing him. Very boring.”
“Thank you, Doris.”
“You’re welcome.”
She walked away.
Meagan picked up her fork.
Aaron rubbed one hand across his jaw. “I apologize.”
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
“I thought she asked everyone whether they were dating.”
“She does.”
“She also appears to be advertising you.”
“That is newer.”
Meagan cut into the pancakes and took a bite.
The lemon flavor was soft, folded into warm batter with enough butter to make every sensible breakfast she had ever eaten feel like a mistake.
When she looked up, Aaron was watching her.
“What?”
“You look happy.”
“It’s pancakes.”
“Still counts.”
Something about the words warmed her.
She looked back at her plate.
“Daniel and I were not right for each other,” she said.
Aaron lifted his fork but did not begin eating. “Did he end it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said something was missing.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
Meagan noticed and wished she had not.
“Daniel is not a bad person.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“You look like you want him to be.”
“Maybe.”
The admission was quiet and unreasonable.
Her pulse stumbled.
“You don’t know him.”
“I know.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough to dislike the idea that someone made you feel easy to leave.”
Meagan went still.