Page 61 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

He’s the reason I gave up my dream, not Dad.

Dad just reminded me of my responsibilities. I can’t fault him for expecting me to follow in his footsteps when a member of my family has been mayor of Rainwater Bay since before the Reeves moved here. It’s my legacy.

But…Landon’s right. I never pushed back against Dad’s expectations. I wanted to be a senator and change the world, but when Dad told me not to worry, what I heard was that he didn’t believe I could.

Who did I think I was, trying to be a senator?

Small town girls should stay where they belong.

Baby Girl, I need you to be my assistant, so political science is a wiser major than history.

Our town will vote for you when the time is right, but you aren’t ready yet. You have more to learn. I can’t retire.

“Zoe?” Landon cups my cheek. “You want me to stay?”

I lick my lips and find my voice. “I want you to stay.”

His hand drifts to the back of my neck. My gaze drops to his lips. Is he going to kiss me?

I want him to.

It’s such a bad idea, but, ugh, I want to feel his mouth against mine. I don’t care that we’re fighting. I don’t care that he’s making me reorganize the memories of my childhood and their implications.

I just want to kiss him and forget everything. I suck a breath through my nose and meet his eyes.

He drops his hand and steps back. “Thank you.”

My stomach plummets to my bare feet.

Please don’t leave. Please don’t say thank you for dinner and then leave.“For what?” My voice is all breathy and weird.

“Letting me be normal.” He crosses his arms over his chest and tucks his hands out of reach. “I’ll pick a record.”

Chapter 17

Landon

Zoe’s home is exactly what I expected. Warm blankets, a half-dozen throw pillows on the deep blue sofa, and balsam-scented candles over the fireplace speak to her need for an oasis. She’s always on when she’s outside these walls.

Bringing her dinner instead of trying to take her back to my place was the right choice. My generic ambiance would have reinforced how transient my life can be, preventing her from relaxing and opening up to me.

She needs to think of me as stable, reliable, and constant if we’re going to make this friendship work.

Friendship. Ha.

I shared more than she did, but what evolved over dinner is a different relationship than the one we’ve built the last month.

I love spending time with her. Cooking dinner together was the luxury I didn’t know my body craved. Like a cold glass of whiskey after a hard day at work, our evening is the refreshment I need.

If I hadn’t left the kitchen when I did, I would have done something stupid like try to kiss her.

We aren’t there.

Yet.

I glimpsed desire in her eyes, but that conversation was too tense to lead into something physical. I need to know our kiss is because she wants it, not because she’s distracting herself from hard emotions.

She’s finally seeing the lies she’s lived with. We need to take things slow so she doesn’t regret our time together.