Page 14 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

LAST CALL FOR TROUBLE

Ethan

I park in front of the Old Oak. We spent the afternoon bent over books and decided to have a bite to eat.

“I think this was a good idea,” Sophia says opening her door. “We’ve worked hard today. A drink sounds great!”

I love her enthusiasm.

Inside, the familiar scent of fried food and draft beer swirls around me, along with a faint, sweet smell I can’t place. Sophia and I are seated at a small table near the back. With an amused head tilt, she’s contemplating the tavern’s kitschy décor — Canadian paraphernalia covering the walls.

She has not mentioned Daniel since our earlier conversation.

Neither have I.

She gives a dramatic sigh, which breaks me out of my reverie. “Anything you would recommend from the menu for a newbie like me?”

“The fish tacos are pretty great!”

Her easy smile settles my pulse. A waitress named Becca approaches, all smiles, and we order two beers. Sophia leans in, resting her elbows on the table.

“So, tell me, what do people actually do for fun around here? Is there, like, a secret underground knitting club? Bonfires with ghost stories? Raccoon races?”

I laugh, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Yes to bonfires. No to raccoon races… yet. But I do know where to find the best pie within a twenty-mile radius.”

“Well then,” she says, eyes lighting up, “why are we still sitting here?”

“Waiting for food!”

“Right, food first, pie later!” she winks.

When the waitress returns with our beers, Sophia orders the fish tacos and I order the fish and chips. Our conversation drifts back to our project — paint colors, salvage wood, and how to diplomatically relocate wildlife.

Suddenly, the door swings open. I glance over as Daniel steps inside, scanning the crowd with hawk-like intensity. My stomach lurches. Talk about terrible timing. The low buzz of conversation hushes, as if the tavern collectively senses trouble.

He spots us, zeroing in on Sophia. Every muscle in my body tenses.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning in.

I lift my chin, pointing to the door behind her. My jaw clenches instinctively.

Sophia looks over her shoulder. She stiffens, eyes flashing warily. Daniel strides forward, ignoring the hush of onlookers.

“Sophia,” he says, voice low but loud enough to hush neighboring tables.

She sets her beer down, jaw tight. “Daniel. What are you doing here? What do you want?”

He exhales sharply, frustration etched on his face. “I’ve been calling and emailing you, but there has been no response. You’re ignoring your clients… my friends…”

“Ah… I see! I thought something smelled fishy, Daniel. That new client, out of the blue... it was you!”

“What does it matter if it was? We may be divorced, but I won’t stop looking out for you.”

Sophia scoffs. “Right… looking out for me. I’m taking a break. Which you refuse to respect.”

“A break from the business? Your responsibilities?”

“You’re out of line, Daniel,” she grits through her teeth.

Daniel’s gaze flickers to me, eyes narrowing. “And you — did you conveniently forget to mention I was looking for her?”

My chest tightens, anger stirring. “You threatened me at Sage’s. Not exactly a polite request.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniel scoffs. “You’re playing the lap dog.”

I don’t take the bait. “I respect Sophia. That includes respecting her boundaries. You might want to try it.”

He steps forward slightly, puffing himself up like I’m supposed to back down. “You think you know her? You’ve known her what — five minutes? I spent years with her. I know what she needs.”

Sophia pushes her chair back, rising to face him. Though he’s taller, she doesn’t flinch. “You don’t get to barge in and make demands,” she snaps, voice crackling with suppressed anger. “We’re done, Daniel.”

He scowls. “I’m trying to help you see reason. You have real opportunities back in Vancouver — serious contracts. This place? This… distraction? It’s not you.”

Sophia crosses her arms, chin lifted. “We’ll talk tomorrow at Sage’s. Ten in the morning. You’ve got five seconds to order a drink or get out, because I’m two seconds away from letting my purse meet your face.”

He opens his mouth, shuts it, and then glances around, noting the tavern’s silent attention. Even the bartender looks ready to intervene. With a final grimace, Daniel storms out, letting the door slam behind him. A moment of stunned silence passes. Then voices cautiously resume.

Sophia exhales a shaky breath, sinking back into her chair. I cover her hand with mine, heart racing. “You okay?” My thumb strokes the inside of her wrist—steady, calming — and the absurd thought pops up that I’ve never felt so close to being a part of a bar fight.

She nods stiffly, eyes still bright with leftover adrenaline. “That was… not how I pictured tonight.”

“You did nothing wrong,” I say quietly, reassuringly squeezing her fingers. “You handled it.”

Her gaze lingers on me, gratitude and frustration mingling. “I just hate that he followed me here. That he’s still trying to orchestrate my life. But I’m not letting him control my life anymore.”

My chest fills with admiration for her. A thread of tension still laces the air, but she’s calmer now, leaning back in her seat as though deflating from battle mode. Our waitress returns, looking apprehensive.

“You two still want dinner?” she asks hesitantly.

We exchange glances. Then Sophia sets her jaw. “Definitely. With extra hot sauce for the tacos.”

I grin, nodding at the waitress, who hurries off. Sophia rubs her temples, a wry smile inching onto her face.

“Guess the rumor mill will be churning tonight, huh?”

I shrug. “Eh, it’s a small town. We’re used to drama. At least we gave them a show.”

She laughs softly, the tension draining from her shoulders. Our food arrives and we focus on eating for a while, letting the normalcy of battered fish and cold beer settle our rattled nerves. I watch her drizzle hot sauce onto her tacos until she’s gasping from the spice.

“Too much?” I ask, fighting back a laugh as she fans her mouth.

“No regrets,” she chokes out, eyes watering. “It’s a good kind of burn.”

I pass her my untouched water, and she drinks it gratefully. Despite everything, we settle into a companionable rhythm again — stealing each other’s fries, exchanging witty remarks about the questionable décor. The hush that followed Daniel’s exit is gone, replaced by the ordinary buzz of the pub.

After we finish, I grab the bill, ignoring a few curious glances from nearby tables. Outside, the night air bristles with lingering tension and a faint scent of the lake.

Sophia folds her arms, hugging herself for warmth, even as her gaze returns to me. “Thanks for… putting up with that.”

I step closer, the cool air pushing us together. “You did most of the heavy lifting. I just tried not to let him ruin our dinner.”

She snorts. “Well, you succeeded.” A pause settles, and her eyes slip down toward my mouth.

My breath hitches, the air crackling with a sudden awareness.

My heart drums in anticipation. I can almost feel her lips before we’ve even closed the distance.

My pulse races, urging me forward — I tilt just enough to catch the faint citrus scent of her shampoo.

But then a pair of rowdy customers burst out behind us, nearly colliding with Sophia.

We jolt apart, tension snapping like a rubber band. The strangers stumble off, unaware of the moment they just shattered.

I rub the back of my neck while mumbling under my breath. “The universe has a weird sense of humor.”

She smiles faintly. “At least it keeps things interesting.” She drops her gaze, toes scuffing the sidewalk. “I’m meeting Daniel at Sage’s tomorrow… but maybe I could meet you at the Miller house after that? We can finalize some measurements.”

My spirits lift. “Absolutely. The contractors might appreciate actual numbers instead of my random estimates.”

Her soft laugh enchants me. “Then it’s a date — of sorts.”

I nod, heart thudding at the idea. “Definitely of sorts. Shall I drive you home?”

“Since I came with you, I kind of expected it!” She laughs and I smile sheepishly.

We get into the truck and pull away from the pub, windows rolled down, letting the cool night air carry the tension out with it. It’s quiet but not uncomfortable — like the kind of silence that knows it’s earned.

I park in Sage’s driveway. We hover in a charged quiet.

The streetlights cast her face in a gentle glow, and I can’t help noticing how her hair catches the light or how her eyes flick to my lips.

Then, in a sudden burst of confidence, she leans toward me and kisses my cheek, lips brushing softly against my skin. My pulse skyrockets.

“Good night, Ethan,” she murmurs, getting out of my truck.

“Night,” I manage, feeling heat creep across my face. I watch her walk away, her silhouette climbing the stairs to the house. Only when she’s gone do I finally move, heading home with my head buzzing like I’m floating.

Yeah, the town’s rumor mill will be spinning, but as far as I’m concerned, let them talk. The only conversation that matters is between Sophia and me — every stolen glance, tense heartbeat, and whispered promise suggesting that we might be more than just a passing renovation project.