Chapter 8 #2
After that, their dinner unfolded at an unhurried pace.
There was no reason to rush since no one was waiting for the table, and it meant they could linger over each course.
Connor started it with a simple, elegant salad—crisp greens tossed lightly in a citrus vinaigrette and slivers of shaved parmesan.
They talked about the resort and the work that they’d done since Walker first arrived, and it was perfectly pleasant.
Their main course arrived hot and fragrant: salmon with a light drizzle of lemon-dill sauce, resting on a bed of herbed rice, and perfectly crisp green beans. Steam rose as Connor set the plates down, and he smiled proudly at the presentation.
“Your desserts are in the refrigerator for whenever you’re ready,” he said softly. “Someone will come in and clean up tomorrow so you won’t be disturbed. Enjoy your evening.” He smiled at them but made no attempt to add another word as he let himself out.
“I feel a little weird about him cooking for us like this,” Nora admitted. “But he seemed to enjoy it.”
“Connor loves cooking for people. It was turning into an obsession for a while, but we’ve gotten him under control now. Plus, with Lexi being pregnant, he wants to spend all his spare time with her and the kids instead of being in the kitchen. This was just a quick way for him to flex his skills.”
She laughed softly. “He’s very good at what he does. I don’t mind cooking, but I can’t do anything like this.” She took a forkful and hummed with appreciation. “Damn, that’s good. So what about you? Do you cook?”
“Not at all. I tend to get consumed with whatever I’m working on—you know, looking at data, coding, and whatnot—and have started more than my share of kitchen fires. Now I let someone else do the cooking.”
One perfectly manicured brow arched. “So you have a personal chef?”
That made him chuckle. “Hardly. I have a meal delivery service, so all I have to do is microwave my food. Most nights I get takeout because I’m at the office, but when I’m home, there’s always something for me to heat quickly.
And I can stand being away from my screen for three minutes, so… no fires.”
“Good for you,” she teased.
From there, they ate slowly, the conversation weaving in and out of all the usual topics—favorite foods, movies, music, and books.
When they talked about travel, Milo was impressed by some of the places she’d gone to for the sake of an adventure, from big-wave surfing in Hawaii to paragliding in New Zealand and ice climbing in Canada.
In contrast, his world travels for business with limited sightseeing opportunities seemed boring.
Very boring.
By the time they were done eating, the cabin felt warmer—not from the meal itself or all the candles, but from the easy intimacy that had settled in, as if the dinner had done exactly what it was meant to do: help them get to know each other better.
Nora stood and began clearing the table, and Milo helped. They put the dishes in the sink and then stared at them.
“It feels wrong to leave them for someone else to do,” she murmured.
“If we ate up at the restaurant, would you go to the kitchen to do the dishes?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. We can leave them.” He went to the refrigerator and peeked at what Connor left for them. “Apple pie, chocolate mousse, and white chocolate-covered strawberries.”
She peered over his shoulder, and he almost groaned at the feel of her body pressed so intimately against his. “I’m not sure I’m ready for dessert yet. What about you?” She moved away so he could shut the door and face her.
“I’m in no rush.”
That seemed to please her. “Me either.”
They strolled back over to the sofa, picking up their wineglasses along the way. And when they sat down, he felt completely content. The lights were low and the only sound was the faint tick of the wall clock.
Nora curled into the corner of the couch, her shoes discarded so she was barefoot, her knees tucked to her chest. Milo chose to sit close—but not touching. He was close enough to feel her warmth without the pressure of anything more.
Neither of them was ready to say goodnight.
And he was pleasantly surprised at how they’d been in sync all night.
It should have felt like there was nothing else to talk about, but the conversation continued.
And continued.
And continued.
At some point, she had to stand and stretch because the sofa wasn’t particularly comfortable, and it should have been a reason to call it a night.
But they didn’t.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
“I hate to say it, but…I can’t sit on that couch anymore.”
He frowned as he moved and then laughed. “Um…yeah. I didn’t want to say anything, but I think my butt’s numb.”
Okay, that was adorable.
“What time is the moonlight paddle?” he asked.
“Oh, um…we missed it. That started almost two hours ago. I can’t believe I forgot about it.” She stretched again. “But I definitely need someplace else to sit.”
Glancing around, his frown deepened. “There aren’t a lot of options. We can finally have dessert and maybe eat at the table?”
She thought about it for a minute and then decided to be a little bold. Deep down, Nora knew that Milo could be trusted, that she could let her guard down and say what she was thinking without him taking it the wrong way.
At least…that’s what she hoped.
“What if we…maybe…”
No. Nope. It was too forward.
And presumptuous.
“Nora?” He stood but didn’t make a move to touch her. “Maybe…?”
Groaning, she threw caution to the wind. “Okay, fine. I was going to say maybe we could grab our dessert and eat it on the bed,” she blurted out. “We could turn on the TV and just…you know…keep hanging out and talking.”
He stared at her.
“Of course, maybe that’s wrong to even suggest eating on your friends’ bed. It was nice enough of them to let us eat dinner here, but it’s majorly crossing a line making ourselves comfortable in their bed.” She paused. “Isn’t it?”
He didn’t confirm or deny it for a moment, and then, without a word, he simply walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed all the desserts before heading into the primary bedroom.
Smiling, Nora grabbed their glasses and followed.
And just like that, they migrated from the couch to the bed without either of them quite addressing it. They tasted all the desserts, sharing them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“What’s your favorite dessert?” he asked as he clicked on the TV and immediately muted it.
She had just taken a bite of the apple pie, and as delicious as it was, it was no contest. “Chocolate chip cookies, hot from the oven, with vanilla ice cream on the side or a really tall glass of extra-cold milk.”
“Extra cold? You mean like…frozen? As in ice cream?” he teased.
“Nope. As in just as cold as it can be before freezing. It’s so good.” She poked her fork around the pie again. “I mean, this is really good too, but I’m not big on fruit desserts. I prefer cakes and cookies. Although that mousse was seriously decadent. I wish there was more of it.”
“I’ll remember for next time.”
That made her smile. He was already thinking about doing this again.
Once dessert was done and the dishes moved aside, they got comfortable.
Milo sat with his back against the headboard, the television casting a low glow across the room.
Some late-night rerun was playing, but neither of them was actually watching.
Nora lay on her side beside him, propped on one elbow, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
There was nothing sexual about it, and yet it felt even more intimate than that. It was warm and cozy and something she felt incredibly comfortable with.
“If you hadn’t turned into a computer whiz, what do you think you’d be doing?” she asked.
He looked down at her with amusement. “Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“I probably would have gone into engineering like my dad. But who knows, right? I don’t think I ever had an interest in anything else. What about you? I know I’ve asked you this before, but…if doing the outdoor thing wasn’t an option, what would you do?”
Her sigh was soft and yet long. The last time he asked, she didn’t want to answer because she looked at him like one of her bosses, and she didn’t want to admit that this really wasn’t the dream anymore.
But tonight, he wasn’t her boss. He was her date.
“Sometimes I think I’d want to do something completely different. You know, like something with regular hours where I had weekends off, vacation time, and just…different.”
“Where do you think…?”
“I don’t know how to stop,” she said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing the next rush. The next thing that makes my heart pound. I don’t even know who I am without that.”
Milo turned his head to look at her, really look at her. Not like a problem to solve. Like a person he wanted to understand.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked.
Yes.
But she didn’t say it, and instead, let herself think about it. About cliff edges and open water. About how the silence used to scare her, how stillness felt like failure.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, knowing full well she was lying. “I just don’t know if I can do it forever. I don’t know what comes after.”
He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face; the touch was so gentle it made her chest ache.
“Maybe you don’t have to decide yet,” he said. “Maybe there’s a version of you that still flies… just not every second.”
Something in her softened because…he understood.
He didn’t offer her all kinds of options or empty words.
She leaned in before she could overthink it, pressing a quiet, careful kiss to his mouth. It was light—barely there—but she lingered. Milo responded in kind, slow and unhurried, his hand coming to rest at her waist like he was afraid to rush her, afraid to scare the moment away.