I lean against the deck railing, the wood warm beneath my forearms, the ocean breeze tugging at my shirt. “Didn’t mean to. I mean, the goal was to take your advice. Hook up with her, or someone else, and get my head straight. Clean break. No strings.”
He clears his throat. “But…”
“But then…things got in the way.”
“Things,” Mont repeats, like the word’s got some flavor he’s trying to name.
“Yeah.” I take a sip of coffee. “Turns out the woman next door isn’t at all what I expected. She’s sharp. Guarded. Smart as hell. Funny in a way that sneaks up on you. And now, all I want is more time with her.”
There’s a shift on his end, maybe him settling deeper into a chair or just letting my words marinate. “So, you want more than a fling?”
Jaw tight, I scrub a hand down my face. “No. Well. Yes. And no. It’s still a summer thing. But that doesn’t have to meanjust sex. We agreed to keep it exclusive while we’re here. She’s healing. As am I. And rushing to bed feels wrong. She’s worth getting to know. Likereallyknow.”
Mont exhales, thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I came across an article last week about ‘micro-dating.’ Small stuff. Beach walks. Coffee runs. No pressure. Just time to allow a connection to build.”
I don’t answer right away, just let the silence stretch as I watch a gull glide low over the surf, wings outstretched, coasting easy on the wind.
My thoughts drift to breakfast with Cami at Ebb & Flow Café three days ago, a morning filled with easy conversation, laughter, and stolen kisses between pancakes and sass.
“So, like warm-ups for the bigger dates?”
“Exactly. Might give her time to feel safe. To feel seen.” He clears his throat. “Sometimes, the emotional slow burn’s the one worth chasing.”
CHAPTER 15
Cami
Steam curls across the bathroom mirror as I towel off, hair still wet, clinging to my shoulders.
I glance at the time, which is barely enough to get dressed before Knox picks me up.
Tonight is Art in the Park: live music, local artists, food, wine, and a movie under the stars. I’ve been looking forward to it all day. Another one of what Knox calls warm-up dates. We’ve had five so far. Each one’s been low-stakes and kind of magical: coffee runs, impromptu bookstore stops, moonlit walks along the beach, that ridiculously competitive game of mini golf. Always full of easy conversation. And every single time, he’s made sure the kittens could come, too.
It’s been effortless. Just…us.
Though, when he walked me to my door last night, the breeze messing with my hair and his lips still lingering on mine from one very distracting goodnight kiss, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s up with date three?”
He smiled, slow and smoldering. “Remember when I said you’re worth it?”
I nodded.
“Well,” he said, “I know we’ve agreed to a lot when it comes to this…fling. But you’re worth more than just that. And I don’t want you to feel like hitting date three means we’re supposed to cross some invisible line. Whatever comes next should be organic. Natural. Something that happens in the moment, not because it’s expected.” He paused, eyes steady on mine. “These warm-up dates? Think of them as one long, winding third date. My way of showing you that every minute with you matters. Because you’re worth all of it, even knowing that, in the end, I’ve agreed to let you go.”
For an immeasurable beat, I forgot how to breathe.
My pulse skipped, my throat went tight, and yeah, I’m pretty sure my ovaries swooned.
Every moment with this thoughtful, sexy, panty-melting man sends my heart a little closer to the moon. And tonight, I’m letting it soar.
Towel wrapped tighter, I pad into the bedroom, eyeing a small pile of outfits I pulled from my suitcase earlier.
What does one wear to a date that’s not really a date but still absolutely is one?
Casual but cute. Nothing that screamstrying too hard.
I thumb through the pile and settle on cuffed shorts and a fluttery tank. Something that says I’m cool and confident even if I’ve changed outfits twice already.
I’ve just swiped on a tinted lip balm when I hear a light tap at the door.
