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Sam arched one perfect eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “I thought the point of tonight was to introduce me to some of the community.”
“It was. And it is, I swear. But my friend—Dani—had to cancel. She just called, or I would have let you know sooner. She has to watch her nephew tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” What he’d come to think of as her work face locked in place, her gaze focused on his as she searched for any deception.
“You can call her if you don’t believe me. In fact, she made me promise to give you her number. She really does want to help. But family comes first, it seems.”
Sam’s expression softened. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Good. Then you’ll still have dinner with me?”
She shrugged. “I’m hungry, so sure. Why not?” She started up the wooden stairway that led to the restaurant’s main deck. “But no more surprises, okay?”
He let out the breath he’d been holding and started up after her. He’d promise pretty much anything if it would get keep her from leaving. “No surprises. Scout’s honor.”
* * *
Sam didn’t doubt that the capable outdoorsman had been a Boy Scout, but she had a feeling the surprises weren’t over yet. She certainly hadn’t expected that little flutter of anticipation in her belly when she’d found out they’d be dining alone together. Or the outright relief that had flowed through her when she realized he wasn’t going to cancel just because his friend couldn’t come.
Pretty much every feeling she had around him was a surprise, and it wasn’t likely that was going to change, no matter what he promised. Oddly, that was almost part of the excitement. Somehow he had a way of getting her out of her comfort zone, and she’d certainly worn quite a rut for herself there.
Dylan reached her side and gestured across the expanse of covered deck toward the smaller, enclosed dining room. “Inside or out?”
“Out, definitely.” From what she remembered, only a few elderly diners or tourists ever ate inside. Even on a hot day, fans and a sea breeze kept the patio from being stifling, and the view more than made up for the temperature. Beyond the patio railing, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, green in the shallows, then darker blue, with tufts of white foam where the waves collapsed on a hidden sandbar. Above, pelicans circled and dove, fishing for their dinner a few feet away from the wooden trestle tables where the diners enjoyed theirs. This place was exactly what she thought of when she’d lain awake homesick in boarding school. Sea, sky, food and people who cared more for who you really were rather than what brand of jeans you wore or car you drove. Here, there was no pretense. Here, everyone fit in. Everyone but her.
“Is this okay?” Dylan nodded to a table nestled in a corner of the deck, open to the water on two sides.
“Perfect.” And it was. Far enough away from the center of activity to allow them to converse without straining to hear each other and yet not too isolated.
He gestured for her to pick a side, then slid onto the bench across from her. Only a few feet of oilcloth-covered table separated them. They’d been much closer in the privacy of the rehab center the other night, but somehow this felt more intimate. More like a date. Which it wasn’t—not even close. He was taking pity on her, not wooing her.
But it still was the closest she’d come to a social life since moving back to Paradise. And date or not, she’d be crazy not to enjoy having dinner with a good-looking man. And good-looking barely began to describe the level of hotness that was Dylan Turner. In a crisp, sea-green button-down shirt and khaki slacks, he was dressed more formally than the majority of patrons. Heck, he was more dressed up than most of the island, not counting Sunday services at All Saints’ Church. But somehow he didn’t seem out of place amongst the more casual shorts-and-T-shirt crowd. His laid-back attitude and general confidence made it impossible for him to look anything but comfortable in his own skin. She had no doubt he could handle whatever came his way.
Her own cotton skirt was hardly dressy, but she was glad she’d made the effort to put on something other than jeans.
“You look really nice. The skirt suits you.”
Sam smoothed a hand over the material, uncomfortable with how closely he’d read her thoughts. “Thanks. I’m not sure when the last time I wore one was.” She reached for one of the plastic-coated menus propped up by the salt and pepper shakers, needing something to do with her hands.
“A tomboy, huh?”
“Not exactly. At least, I didn’t use to be.” Back when her mother was alive, they’d had fun shopping for pretty things together. She shook the memory off, forcing herself back to the here and now. “But when you spend all your time trying to fit in as one of the guys, it’s easy to forget you aren’t one.”
His cool blue eyes scanned up and down her body, heating her skin. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be mistaken for one of the guys.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“No, thank you, for agreeing to dinner. If you hadn’t, I’d be heating a frozen dinner instead of ordering shrimp tacos and key lime pie.”
“That does sound tragic.” Scanning the menu was like rereading a love letter from long ago that evoked equal parts nostalgia and longing. “I’m glad to see they kept a lot of the old favorites, but there are some new options here that look good, too. I think I could eat here every night for the rest of my life and not get tired of it.”
“Have you been here since you moved back?”
She shook her head, her gaze flicking back and forth between the various options. “Oh, wow, lobster and Brie grilled cheese? I used to always order the grouper sandwich, but I don’t think I can turn down something as decadent as Brie and lobster.”
“So get it. As hard as you work, you deserve something wonderful.”
Sam swallowed hard before daring to look up at him. His smile was easy, his body language sincere. He seemed to have offered the compliment without thought, as if it was nothing. When was the last time someone had done that? “Thanks. I think I will.”
As if in response to her decision, a waitress appeared at her elbow, gray-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail and a tired smile on her lips. “Have y’all had time to decide?”
“I think so, but you know me, I always get the same thing.” Dylan returned the waitress’s smile with his own hundred-watt version. “Sally, I’d like you to meet Sam Finley. She used to live here, and is back in town, working with the Fish and Wildlife Commission.”
Sally turned to Sam, her green eyes widening. “That’s why you looked so familiar! You’re Tom Finley’s little girl!”
* * *
Dylan watched Sam blink in surprise, obviously trying to place the middle-aged waitress in her memory.
“I can’t believe you remember me...from back then, I mean. I’ve been gone so much...”
“Well, sure, I heard you were away at some fancy school or something, but you’re still an islander, and I know everyone on the island.”
“Thanks. I guess I wasn’t sure anyone still thought of me that way.”
The older woman’s expression softened. “Of course we do. People were real fond of your family. It was tragic what happened to your mother. Maybe we should have done more to help afterward. But your father—”
“He wasn’t very good at accepting help,” Sam finished for her.
“Well, yeah, he was just very independent.”
Sam’s mouth tightened. “He still is. I guess you don’t see him in here much”
“Not in years, honey. But I’m sure glad you’re here. Good to see how nicely you’ve grown up. And following in your daddy’s footsteps as a wildlife officer—he must be very proud of you.”
Sam nodded politely, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, tension hadn’t been there before. Wanting to shift the focus to something more palatable, he tapped her menu. “Still want the lobster grilled cheese?”
Her smile returned. “Definitely. With a bowl of the conch chowder.”
Sally scribbled on her pad. “Anything else? An appetizer, maybe?”
Chewing her lip, Sam scrutinized the menu. “Are the conch fritters as good as I remember?”
Sally winked. “Better.”
Dylan took the menu from her and returned it to the side of the table. “Well, then, by all means, bring the lady some conch fritters.”
“I’ll get the order in right away. And Sam, it’s good to have you back in town.”
“Thanks, Sally. It’s good to be back.”
Sally headed to the kitchen, leaving them alone again.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Sam shrugged. “No, but she remembers me. That helped.”
“I think you are going to find a lot more people remember you than you think.”
A hint of worry furrowed her brow. “If so, then why doesn’t anyone else mention it?”
“Did you ever think they might be waiting for you to say something? You’re the one that left—maybe they think you’re too good for them now.”
“That’s crazy. I’m the same person I always was.”
“You grew up into a beautiful woman. That can be intimidating to some people. And for all they know, you liked the girls at your fancy prep school better than the people here.”
She shook her head, her dark hair mussing with the movement. “No way. I hated being away from here. And I never fit in at St. Anne’s. I was too shy, from the wrong place, with the wrong accent. I was the odd girl out, complete with mousy hair and thick glasses.”
He reached out and smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear. Soft as silk, just as he’d imagined. “Well, I have a hard time believing that, but if you ever were an ugly duckling you’re certainly not now. Although I would like to see you in those glasses sometime.”
“So you can tease me, too?”
“Let’s just say I like the sexy librarian look.”
Sam’s mouth opened, then closed, her cheeks flushing at his innuendo. She really was as innocent as she seemed if something that mild could embarrass her. It was refreshing to know he could make a woman blush. But also a reminder to watch his step. He wanted to get to know her better, not scare her off. Luckily, Sally chose that moment to return with a plastic basket heaped with piping hot fritters, defusing the tension with the scent of fried food.
“Here you go, but be careful. They’re a bit hot.”
Sam was already reaching for one, nodding at the warning. “Thanks, I remember.” She took a bite and then immediately dropped the steaming fritter into her lap. “Ouch!”
Dylan handed her a napkin from the dispenser on the edge of the table. “She did warn you.”
Sam brushed the crumbs off of her shirt and shook her head. “I thought she meant spicy hot, not hot-hot.”
“It seems in this case they’re both.” He nudged one of the glasses of ice water the waitress had left toward Sam. “Here, drink this. It will help.”
She nodded and gulped down a few big swallows. “Better, thanks.”
“Good.” He broke open one of the steaming fritters and handed her half. “They cool faster this way.”
“Now you tell me. Where were you a minute ago?”
Fantasizing about you in nothing but a pair of glasses probably wasn’t the right answer, so he just shrugged and bit into the rapidly cooling appetizer. The slightly sweet and chewy conch contrasted perfectly with the spicy peppers and crisp batter. “Do you know, there are people who have never had a conch fritter?”
She shook her head in mock sympathy. “It’s a tragedy, really.”
“It is. I guess they don’t know what they’re missing. But still, life can’t quite be complete if you don’t have good seafood.”
A wistful look shadowed her face. “There’s a lot to be thankful for in Paradise.”
Dylan wanted to punch himself. She’d lived most of her life away from this, and it was obvious she’d missed out on a lot more than seafood while she was gone. He couldn’t give her that time back or fix everything that had gone wrong for her, but he could at least try to keep his foot out of his mouth and make her return as welcome as possible.
And if easing her reentry into her old hometown meant spending more time with her, well, that was just an added bonus.
Chapter Five (#ulink_636480fd-09ac-58bd-9fc7-b10042db39cd)
When the waitress returned with their entrées, Sam forced herself to focus on the meal, refusing to let herself be dragged down by bad memories. Sure, she’d had a rough childhood in some ways, but she was incredibly lucky in others. And right here, right now, she was having a delicious meal in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Even better, she was having a great time. Not only had Dylan turned out to be an excellent dinner companion, but she’d actually met someone who remembered her! It was almost pathetic how much a waitress’s simple comment could affect her mood, but knowing that someone remembered her mother, remembered them as a family, meant more than she had expected.
Her mom had been gone so long, and her father had changed so much, it was hard to believe any of it had been real. Sometimes she wondered if she’d imagined how good her life had been back then. Talking to someone who knew her then reassured her it wasn’t all in her head. They had been happy, and damn it, she was going to be happy again. She was going to make friends, kick butt at her job and make her boss and her father proud of her.
“Is your sandwich okay? You’ve been awful quiet.”
“Oh, yes. It’s delicious, actually.” And it was, the creamy Brie and buttery lobster a match made in heaven. “I was just thinking.”
“About?” Dylan took a bite of his taco and looked expectantly at her.
“The past, the future, that sort of thing.”
He nodded. “Being near the ocean can bring out some big thoughts. Something about the timelessness of the waves maybe. Whenever I get too caught up in the day-to-day grind, I hit the beach. A few hours on my board helps me back up and see the forest for the trees.”
“I knew it! You are a surfer.”
“Guilty as charged. I don’t get as much time on the waves as I’d like, but it’s one of the reasons I took the job here. I was dying to get back in the water.”
She dipped a corner of her sandwich in the spicy chowder and considered that. “So where were you before you came here?”
“Boston. Which, although technically isn’t far from the ocean, to find waves you have to be willing to drive a while. Which my school schedule didn’t leave a lot of time for.”
“Wait, you were in school in Boston?” She tried hard to picture his sun-bleached hair and laid-back attitude fitting in in New England, and failed.
“Yeah, grad school. I got an MBA, which looks good on paper but taught me very little about bottle-feeding deer. That’s all on-the-job training.”
He had an MBA? “What school?”
“I did my undergrad at UF, but the MBA is from Harvard.”
“You have an MBA from Harvard. And you work for a tiny nonprofit where you have to nail shingles and feed deer?” Was he crazy?
“I do more than that, but yes. I had job offers from larger companies, but I wasn’t interested in the whole corporate thing. I like it here, and I’m close enough to home to visit my family when I want to. And when I get free time, which isn’t very often, I admit, I can surf or just walk on the beach. Boston’s a great place, but I’m a Florida boy at heart.”
So not just good-looking, but smart. Smart enough to get into Harvard, and confident enough to turn down what were undoubtedly better-paying and more impressive jobs in order to have the lifestyle he preferred. She wanted to understand more about how he’d ended up following such an unconventional path, but if he didn’t want to talk about it she wouldn’t pry. Having her own off-limits subjects, she knew that simple questions could sometimes lead to painful answers.
Instead, she leaned back in her chair and steered the conversation to a more mundane topic. “You said your parents live nearby—does that mean you’re a Florida native?”
He gave a slow, easy smile and her heart thumped a bit harder. “Yes, ma’am. My parents have a cattle ranch over on the mainland in unincorporated Palmetto County. My brother and sister both still live there, and help run the place.”
“And you didn’t want to stay and be part of the family business?”
