Page 39 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

I’d always loved living among the bustling streets of Miami.

Between the barely clad women strolling along the beaches and the skyline casting its shadows from the scorching sun, I had been content in the big city.

That was until my best friend moved to a small town, and I felt its charm like a second skin.

Neither of those compares to Coral Bell Cove. A beautiful conglomeration of my two favorite settings.

“Are we there yet?” Oliver asks from his booster seat in the back of the SUV.

I wrangled the keys off the hook this morning and left Lila the keys for my car.

The one she’s terrified to even spare a glance at.

I keep reminding her that it’s just a car whenever she worries about driving it.

If she were to get in an accident, she’d be the only thing I worried about.

“Almost. You were just here the other day. Excited to visit again?”

I quickly learned that the kids were obsessed with the horses and Ms. Claire. I was also a fan of Ms. Claire and obsessed with her daughter.

“Yes!” the duo shouts, and I laugh along with them as the breeze floats across me from the open window.

The farm is already humming when we pull in. A tractor crawls across a stretch of field in the distance, dust kicking up behind it in swirls. Horses graze lazily behind the fence behind the house, tails flicking, heads low.

“Horsie!” Evelyn cries out, her small hand banging against the window. She bounces in her seat with the little space she has available. I haven’t seen her this excited since the birthday party.

I park near the barn where a slew of other cars resides and climb out, helping Oliver out of his seat and then Evelyn. The air smelled of hay and earth and the bit of dew from the summer morning. Peacefulness in a way I didn’t anticipate.

Coming to the farm wasn’t my original plan for the day, but after the moment with Lila last night, the thought crept in and rooted deep.

I need to show her that this isn’t just a passing attraction or a fleeting moment.

What I feel for her runs far deeper than that, and I want her to see it, to feel it.

As I stand there, looking out at the barn and the sprawling grounds of the farm, I can’t help but think about her.

Her breathy sighs, the soft moans that still echo in my ears, the way she fits so perfectly against me, as though we were meant to be.

I’m not a man who spends time reflecting on every little detail.

Hell, most of the time, I’d rather just act than think too hard.

But last night with Lila… it was different.

I should be thankful for the interruption, really.

At the time, I wanted nothing more than to press her against that kitchen counter and finish what we started.

But in hindsight, I realize the pause gave her the time she needed, the space to come to terms with whatever this is between us.

And it gave me time to come to terms with it, too.

My feelings for her aren't something I can easily shake off. They’re not something I can ignore or brush aside.

And I don’t want to. I want her to know that when I say I’m falling for her, I’m not doing it lightly.

I’ve thought about this, about her, about us, and I know what I want. I want her by my side in every way.

When I left last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she had been. The way she looked at me, her eyes soft, her lips so kissable. And her body. God, her body was all I could focus on. I didn’t just want her physically. I wanted to understand her and know her completely.

So I found myself gathering grants and opportunities for her, searching online for anything that could push her toward her goals.

I figured that maybe this would be my way of showing her how much I care, even if she wasn’t ready to hear the words yet.

Maybe giving her the freedom she needed to breathe, the time she needed to think…

maybe that would show her how serious I am. How serious I’m becoming about her.

I left the folder on the kitchen table, hoping she’ll see it and understand that I’m not just looking to have her in my bed. I want to help her achieve everything she’s been working for, and I want to stand by her side while she does it.

The kids immediately spot Claire by the fence, holding out an apple for the horses, and head her way.

I spot Lila’s brother near the barn, stacking crates into the back of a vintage truck.

I’ve only met him at the family dinner, where he tried to play the protective brother role and put me in my place.

Rowan Wright is a full-time farmer with a mug that doesn’t give much away.

Like recognizes like.

“Morning,” I call out as I cross the gravel.

He glances over his shoulder, squinting beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, and nods. “Morning.”

Gesturing toward the horses, I try to break the ice by saying, “Oliver and Evelyn were promised horses. My orders were firm.”

“Good bribe. Looks like Mom has it handled.”

“Yeah, they’re undeniably Team Ms. Claire. Want a hand?” I ask as he hefts another crate filled with strawberries into the truck.

Rowan pauses, then shrugs as he looks down at my work boots, scuffed from years of working on boats. “Sure, if you don’t mind a few more scratches on those boots.”

“I’ve had worse jobs. And despite what you may think, I didn’t wear them just to stand around and look pretty.”

“I’m not sure you want to know what I think,” he murmurs as he closes the tailgate.

I follow Rowan toward the shed. The sun still hangs low, but the air heats, and the humidity rises quickly. Grabbing a few empty crates, I fall in step beside him.

We travel down the many paths lining the strawberry field until we happen upon another three-man group plucking strawberries and placing them in the crates. Rowan and I work in companionable silence for a few minutes, the kind where neither party is quite sure what to say.

Finally, Rowan breaks the silence. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Wasn’t planning on being here either,” I admit.

“Lila still happy working for you?”

“She hasn’t resigned yet, though I know she’s been searching for jobs. But she never complains.”

“And you? You’re still being professional?” he asks, yanking a handful of plump berries and tossing them into the crate with the ease of someone who’s been doing this for years.

I meet his gaze. “I know what I want. So does she. But I’m not rushing her. I have the kids to look after. The real life kind of baggage most women don’t want to deal with.”

“Lila’s not most women.”

Boy, isn’t that the truth. She’s one of the best women I know.

“This wouldn’t be a fling for me,” I confess.

Rowan responds with a long pause.

“She’s been hurt.”

“I know.”

He nods, then he glances over at Oliver and Evelyn, now cackling wildly near the fence with Claire as she reaches out toward the horse’s nose.

“She likes horses,” he divulges. “When she was a teen, she’d come out here when we aggravated her too much. It didn’t matter if it was day or night, rain or shine.”

A smile grows on my lips. “I get it.” I felt the same about being on a boat.

We worked together a few more minutes in silence, the air feeling lighter, like I’ve passed some sort of test. I’ve always been an overachiever.

“You know, Ashvi set her up on a surprise blind date the other night.”

“Oh, shit. I bet that didn’t go well. If Lila hates anything, it’s a surprise.”

“Noted,” I say as I fill my second crate. “She didn’t seem pleased when she came home.”

“I bet not. Ashvi has always been the wilder of the two. She always wanted Lila to come out of her shell. Then when my sister left and pretty much cut everyone off, it hurt her.”

“I don’t know much about her time away, but I know she regrets it. Wishes she could take it all back.”

“We and Ashvi just want her to be happy. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

Secretly, I wonder if her family is part of why she desires to succeed in such a spectacular way. She frowns upon her mother’s business yet pushes to follow in her footsteps. I understand wanting to make it on your own.

“You know, I think you’ve said more today than you said the first night we met,” I point out.

“Asshole,” Rowan replies as he gets up and shifts to another line of strawberries a few feet away. I follow just to live up to the nickname he’s given me.

A few hours and several crates later, Rowan, myself, and his team have harvested what we could from the cordoned-off patch. He explains that they keep the far field open for families to pick strawberries on their own, which explains all the cars in the lot when I showed up.

“Business good here?” I ask, helping load the crates into the back of the pickup.

“Why? Looking for another investment?” he asks arrogantly.

“Been looking me up, Rowan? I’m so flattered.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Just looking out for my sister.”

“Sure. And no, I’m not looking for another investment. I’m actually looking to cut back some. Just wanted to see how successful the farm is.”

Slamming the tailgate harder than necessary, Rowan turns to face me. “We do just fine, Dean. Don’t worry about us.”

“Suit yourself. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Dean!” a little voice shouts as she barrels at full speed in my direction. Saved by the niece. “Ms. Claire says I can ride the horse if you walk with me! Can you? Will you? Please? I never get to ride the horses when we come.”

“Sure, I can. Lead the way.” I gesture for her to grab my hand and guide me toward the barn. I’m surprised when Rowan follows.

Claire greets me warmly as she ushers us into the barn and shows me the tan horse named Butterscotch that belongs to Lila. Rowan walks Evelyn and Oliver through the task of grooming the horse prior to riding, pointing out that the horse should be free of loose hair and dirt.