Page 43 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

I’m sure she does too.

So I’m going to freeze my balls off and force her to talk to me.

Our relationship demands it.

It doesn’t help that I haven’t slept well since she kissed me. I told myself I only want to be her friend, but then I dream about her lips, get lost in the memory when I should be paying attention in meetings.

She was too rattled during the thunderstorm or on the walk back to town for a coherent conversation. I get the need to process your changing reality, but I won’t let her ignore us.

Our chemistry is rare. That kiss meant something, and we need to figure out what it is. Even if it’s resigning myself to friendship instead of tasting her again because she needs time to accept how great we can be together.

Her passion is hypnotic. That estate means everything to her, and I respect the hell out of her for it.

I should have recognized that passion when we were kids, but I was a dumb teenager full of myself…and my ego. It was there. I remember it in her eyes and the way she crumbled when I laughed at her.

She should have told me to go to hell and followed her dream. I want her to fight for what she wants.

To dream her bold dreams and chase after them with everything inside her.

I want to support her through it all.

If she takes half of her passion into the world outside Rainwater Bay, she’ll singlehandedly solve world peace and childhood hunger.

The two of us together would be unstoppable.

But what will it take to convince her she’s meant for more than being her dad’s assistant?Mayorisn’t a big enough title for her. This town doesn’t deserve her if kissing me would be enough for them ostracize her.

I need to get to the bottom of her fears if I’m going to help her overcome them.

There’s more to her running from me. But what? Who is she afraid of?

I’m done waiting for her to come to her senses.

I tuck a thermos of coffee and a couple of foil-wrapped breakfast burritos into the crevice beside the log where I laid my clothes.

I rub my hands together to encourage blood flow and say a little prayer that she doesn’t try to drown me as I wade into the water.

Pins and needles prickle my skin despite the neoprene. I’ve swum in cold water before. You don’t belong to the Prince family without earning your deep-sea diver certification. Heck, my brother is one of the best undersea welders in our company. If he can survive the North Sea, I can swim a few laps in the Pacific.

Zoe completes her third lap since I arrived, swimming between a set of buoys just outside the marina. I watch her glide through the water with smooth, hypnotic strokes.

I calculate my angle to meet her at the nearest buoy. Matching her pace, I swim one hundred yards and acclimate my body to the cold. Her hair is bundled under a swim cap, and mirrored goggles make it impossible for me to see her eyes when we meet.

“Good morning.”

She treads water. “What are you doing here?” Her tone is sharp and callous.

“Swimming.”

“Leave me alone, Landon.” She strokes past me and taps the buoy, flipping to start her next lap.

I keep pace. “Why would I do that?”

“This is my me-time. I don’t need you messing it up.”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“And?”