Page 29 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

“But more than that…” His voice dips, rough around the edges. “I want the rest of it. I want to take my future wife on a real date. Not because it’s expected. Not because it’s convenient. But because I want to learn everything about her.

“I want to know her favorite color. The dessert she orders when she thinks no one’s watching. What makes her laugh until she can’t breathe, and what breaks her heart wide open.”

He’s right in front of me now, close enough that I can feel his heat, the scent of him wrapping around me like a memory I haven’t made yet but already miss.

“I want to know what she dreams about in the middle of the night,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper.

“What makes her tick, what sets her soul on fire. I want to know what she looks like in candlelight… the way her eyes shine when it’s just the two of us at a quiet table, sharing something that feels like more than just a meal. ”

His hand lifts slowly like he’s afraid to break the moment, and he brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“And I want her to know she doesn’t have to give me everything all at once,” he says softly like it’s a secret just for me. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

And somehow, with my heart thundering and his words pressed against the cracks of all the places I’ve kept guarded, I believe him.

I shouldn’t. God, I shouldn’t. But I do.

Because the way Dean looks at me like I’m not just someone passing through, not just a broken heart in recovery, is dangerous in a way that doesn’t scare me.

It seduces me. He’s not asking for all of me right now, but with every word he speaks, with every gentle look, he’s pulling pieces of me into his hands like he knows exactly how to hold them.

I drag in a shaky breath, blinking faster than I want to admit.

He doesn’t even realize it, but he’s just obliterated another piece of my armor with that speech.

And now I’m standing here in the ashes, heart exposed and too full, wondering how in the hell I thought I could survive this if it was only ever meant to be a fling.

Because this? This doesn't feel temporary.

What happens when a fling isn’t enough? What happens when I realize I want the whole damn thing, dates and candlelight and the feel of his hand curled around mine on the porch swing years from now?

I power down my laptop, my fingers slightly trembling over the keys.

There’s no way in hell I’m finishing that online journal this afternoon—not with Dean still in the room, not with his words still echoing in my head, filling every quiet space inside me with hope and fear and this ache I can’t shake.

“Alright, you win. But we go as friends,” I say, blowing out a puff of air as I close the device and shove it into my bag.

Normally, I’d be furious with someone interfering with my time since I get so little of it right now, but when I turn to find Dean smiling like a kid on Christmas, all my anger slips away.

“Got it. Friends. I really didn’t think you’d give in so easily.”

“Whelp, I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I…”

“What do you mean about not eating since this morning?” he demands.

“I… sometimes when I get so engrossed in what I’m working on, I forget to eat.”

“How often does this happen?”

“More often than I care to admit. It’s fine. It happens a lot when my team is focused on something. Well, what used to be my team.”

Grabbing my hand, Dean yanks me from the room, down the hall, and out the side door of the school without a glance back at me until we approach the SUV.

“Get in,” he spouts, his lips curling up as if he’s in anguish.

I slip under his arm and into the passenger seat, figuring I can grab the expensive coupe he allowed me to drive this morning later.

As he walks around the front of the vehicle, I take a second to admire the way the gray T-shirt hugs his broad shoulders, wide chest, and taut abdomen.

Even his jeans are snug on his fucking amazing ass.

I wonder what his boxer briefs look like beneath the denim.

I have to stop fantasizing about the man.

He slams the door shut, and I jump in my seat. Dean’s playfulness slips away like the lines on the road as he pulls away from the school. I watch in fascination as his strong hands twist around the steering wheel. Even his knuckles are attractive.

Fuck, I need to get laid.

I make a mental note to myself to send Ashvi a message to see if she wants to go out soon. Slipping my hand into my bag, I reach for my phone only to jerk back against my seat as Dean takes the turn onto Main Street with the finesse of an F1 racer.

“Geez,” I mumble, gripping the handle above the passenger door.

“Sorry,” he replies, relaxing his grip and slowing the car’s speed.

The road narrows a bit as it winds around the coastline, which has sandy beaches covered in driftwood.

“That used to be one of my favorite places to hang out as a kid after school,” I point out. “There used to be a dock where I’d go fishing with my dad, but a hurricane took it out a few years back. The town never rebuilt it.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, probably sensing the melancholy in my voice.

I miss those times with my dad. My parents always made it a point to spend individual time with each of their children when they could, and I treasured those times with my dad.

In a house of seven, it was easy to get lost in the crowd.

Beside me, Dean clears his throat softly, his voice low but steady. “Everything still quiet on your end?”

I glance at him, my chest tightening just a little. “You mean Prescott?”

He nods, jaw ticking. “Just want to make sure he hasn’t managed to get ahold of your new number.”

“Um…” I say, fingers curling around the hem of my shirt. “Sort of. He’s been calling and messaging my old phone, but I blocked his number. I’m almost afraid to check my email.”

Dean’s eyes lock on mine, warm but filled with an undercurrent of steel. “If anything changes or it gets worse, I want to be the first person you tell. Don’t try to handle it alone, Lila. Let me take care of it. Of you.”

The words land soft and sharp all at once, threading warmth through my ribs even as my throat tightens. He’s not just offering help. He’s offering protection. Reassurance. A place to land if everything goes sideways again.

And maybe for the first time, I don’t feel like I have to carry it all by myself.

“Okay,” I say on a heavy sigh as he parks the car.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dean asks, turning in his seat toward me.

“Because Prescott doesn’t come across as someone to let go that easily.

One time, he wasn’t happy with our meal at this really expensive restaurant.

Not only did he speak with the manager before we left, but he went so far as to have the entire restaurant shut down by the end of the week.

It had been in their family for over a hundred years. ”

“God, I have no idea what I saw in him.”

“Will you tell me if he reaches out again?”

“Dean, I would never put your kids in any danger.”

“What about you? Seems like you’re in a bit of danger yourself.”

“He won’t hurt me. He’s probably still fuming about the canceled wedding.”

Dean makes a noise deep in his throat as he exits the car. I dutifully wait for him to come over to my side because that is an argument I positively don’t want to have again.

As he opens the door and I step out onto the pavement, Dean closes in. He’s so close that the subtle salty seaside breeze mixes with his sandalwood scent. It’s intoxicating.

“How much do you know about your ex and his family?”

“Um…” I shake my head slightly. “Not much other than they’re investors and politicians. I’m not really big into gossip rags or anything. I mean, outside of finding out he is married, they keep things pretty close to their chest, if you know what I mean.”

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?” he asks, my stomach clenching at the possibilities.

“Maybe, but…”

“Lila, there are things about them I want to tell you, need to tell you.”

Pressing my hand against his chest, I allow my palm to settle against the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin seep through the material. “Not now, okay? I’m…not ready.”

“When will you be? Because, sweetheart, I will tell you. Secrets are one thing I won’t stand for.”

“Can we just enjoy the night? I have a few places I want to show you,” I explain, trying to distract him.

Despite my yearning to keep him close, Dean steps back, my hand falling back to my side, and shuts the door behind me.

“Later, then.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Where to first?”

“Let me tell you about this amazing bookstore in town. It’s at the other end of the street.

Where were you thinking of going for dinner?

” I ask, glancing down at the small watch I wear on my wrist. A gift from my dad at my high school graduation.

“The marina used to have an amazing restaurant, but I think it’s fallen to the wayside over the past few years.

A hurricane five years ago really took a toll on the town. Or so my mom said.”

“Wherever is fine. I’ll be honest, I didn’t really research this too much. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

Stopping on the sidewalk, I turn to face him. “Why is that?”

“Believe it or not,” he says just as a gust of wind tosses my hair across my face, causing the ends to stick to the corners of my mouth.

He gently brushes them aside as he continues, “I like you, Lila. I like the way you’re so ambitious.

I like the way you take care of my kids as if they’re your own.

You do a much better job than I ever could, and it’s going to suck if you decide to leave.

And even though we’re not alone much, most of all I like the calmness I feel around you. ”

“Wow,” I mumble as his words wash over me. I feel like we barely know each other, yet we’re so familiar at the same time.

My brain screams, “Abort! Abort!” but my heart flutters loudly, shouting, “Full steam ahead.”

A quiet calm arises as we walk down the sidewalk.

It’s not awkward or uncomfortable. Truthfully, it feels more romantic than anything.

As we walk, with Dean closest to the road, our hands feel like they brush against each other with each small swing.

We’re standing at least a foot apart, so I know it’s only in my mind, but the energy between us builds with each step.

We pass the first side road, and I point out the direction for the marina and wildlife preserve, then the café and one of two bars in town.

The Squeeze In has been around since the town was established and little has changed since then.

There are barely any tables, but the bar spans the length of the place.

Mom told me that one of the kids recently moved home and is taking it over after spending some time working with a bourbon distillery in Tennessee.

Dean stops and leans toward one of the sea-mist-covered windows to get a better view, but I know from experience that the glass is almost entirely opaque.

“Looking for another venture?” I joke, knowing that Dean has his hands in more businesses than I can count, but he surprises me with a secretive grin and shrug.

We continue walking, Dean glancing at me every now and again as I go on about some of the businesses in town and a few that have left. There seems to be more empty shops than I remember, which leaves my heart clenching.

As we reach the last side road headed toward the beach, I point out the public beach access across from the 1920s Needle Palm Resort.

“Once it warms up, you should take the kids to the beach. The park rangers do a great job of keeping it clean. It’s sort of our little hideaway here in Coral Bell Cove.”

“Does it get busy with tourists in the summer?” Dean asks as a woman pushing a stroller walks in the opposite direction, eyeing Dean as if he were her favorite ice cream. I can’t even blame her because he looks delicious with his slightly tousled hair and casual clothes.

“It can. Most locals head to the beach in the morning since tourists tend to go in the afternoon. But we have another special spot that only true Coral Bell Cove residents know about. Maybe I’ll show you one day,” I say flirtishly.

Dean picks up on it immediately and turns toward me, taking a step in my direction. “You’d do that for me, Lila? Share a piece of yourself?”

He’s backed me up against the weathered brick of the building, leaning close enough that I can see the glimmers of gold in his brown eyes. Licking my lips, I murmur, “It’s just a town beach.”

“Yeah, but it’s your town beach. And that makes it special.”

I clear my throat, the words catching slightly as Dean steps back, putting space between us that feels far more like an abyss than a courtesy.

His warmth still lingers on my skin, a phantom touch I’m not ready to lose.

We probably look like strangers now, just two people casually standing on the sidewalk.

But my body knows better. My heart certainly does.

I force a smile, voice quieter than I mean it to be. “The bookstore’s just another block up.”

My pulse pounds in my ears, and I can’t stop the way my stomach flutters, nervous and hopeful. His words continue to echo in my chest, a mix of steady confidence and quiet affection that wraps around me like a promise I didn’t even know I needed.

What does he see when he looks at me? I’m not polished or poised or remotely put together. I’m still unraveling pieces of myself and trying to remember who I was before everything with Prescott. Yet… Dean looks at me like I’m worth knowing. Worth staying for. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I feel.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I let the thought in, just the edge of it, the possibility. Maybe I’m starting to fall for this man. And maybe that’s the most terrifying, exhilarating truth of all.

Gesturing with his arm out wide, Dean says, “Lead the way.”