A place like this was for anniversaries, promotions. It was romantic and special.
“Good.”
She arched a brow. “You’re pleased I’ve been deprived?”
The corner of his mouth ticked. “I’m pleased I get to be the first one to bring you here.”
She looked back at the building, at the way the glass held the last of the light. That shouldn’t have landed the way it did.
He pulled into the valet circle. A young attendant hurried forward.
“Evening, Mr. Calloway.”
Reid nodded politely.
“Evening.”
Of course, he was recognized here. Of course, he fit.
He came around to open her door.
She stepped out, emerald silk catching the final gold of the sun. The mountains felt secondary.
And for one uncomfortable beat, she knew it. Every old instinct locked in her spine.
He took her hand.
Inside, white linen and candlelight softened the room. Conversation hummed low. Glassware caught the sunset like liquid fire.
Reid guided her not to the center of the room, but to a table tucked near the edge.
Still overlooking the mountains.
Just not on display.
More private. More view.
She exhaled a fraction. He’d done that on purpose.
They sat.
The sun dipped lower, streaking the horizon pink and amber.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the light shifted.
The sun slipped fully behind the ridge.
For one suspended moment, the mountains went dark.
And then the trees below the overlook came alive.
Soft uplighting threaded up the trunks. Lanterns glowed between branches. Warm gold flickered against stone and timber. The windows behind them deepened into reflection.
What had been elegant became enchanted.
Eleanor took it in quietly.
