"Not me," I admit. "A few weeks ago, I would've put money on us strangling each other if we spent more than five minutes in the same room."
His chuckle vibrates through my body. "I would've taken that bet and doubled it."
We pull into The Silver Willow's parking lot, and my nerves kick up again. I've heard about this restaurant from my aunt, who raves about the fresh seafood, waterfront views, and prices that make most people's eyes water. It's the kind of place for special occasions.
The inside of the restaurant is even more elegant than I’d imagined with its soft lighting, sophisticated decor, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. The hostess seats us in a quiet spot in the back, and Wyatt holds my chair before taking his own seat in the corner.
I snort. "Why do you guys always do that? Danny does it, too."
His brow furrows. "Do what?"
"Sit with your back to the wall. Is it your favorite seat?"
His gaze sharpens. "It’s a force of habit from the military. You never sit with your back exposed. This way, I can see the whole room with no blind spots."
The habit makes more sense now. "And you can protect everyone around you."
His chin bobs. "Exactly."
"I don't need protecting, Wyatt."
He doesn't argue, just smiles at me in a way that launches a thousand butterflies in my stomach, then places his hand over mine. "You look beautiful tonight, Merri. I wanted to tell you that before we get interrupted."
Right on cue, our waiter appears with menus and a wine list, launching into an explanation of the daily specials. I try to focus on what he’s saying, but all I can think about is Wyatt's words and the way he’s looking at me as if I'm the only person in the room.
We order drinks and settle into the kind of conversation that should be impossible for two people who've spent decades at each other's throats. We talk about our businesses, about the changes we've both noticed in Pelican Point, about future plans and dreams. It’s so strangely comfortable and I love it.
"And I keep getting all these weird newsletters," Wyatt continues. "Sasquatch Sighters of America. UFO Abductee Pen Pal Network. The Society for Perineum Sunlight Therapy, which is butthole sunning by the way. Oh, and apparently, there’s a Coffee Colonic Association of America. At first I thought Danny or my Marine Corps buddies were behind it, but they all swear it wasn't them."
I bite the inside of my cheek. But it doesn't work, and a laugh bubbles up. He pins me with a glare, his mouth flattening. "Merri," he growls.
"Okay, fine. That was me." I'm full-on laughing now. "I signed you up for all of them after the dumpster fire incident. At the time, a coffee colonic made sense for you."
He gapes at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. "You're diabolical."
I spread my hands in admission. "I have my moments."
"I'll get you back for this," he says, but his eyes are warm, promising something that has nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with the heat that's building between us.
We finish dinner, which was possibly the best seafood I've had in years, and Wyatt suggests a walk on the beach. I agree immediately, and we wander down to the sand, my heels in my hand, the warm water lapping at our feet.
"Tell me more about the Marine Corps," I say. "You mentioned deployments you can't talk about, but what can you tell me?"
He doesn’t speak for a minute, and I wonder if I've pushed too far.
"In Force Recon, you're trained to be the best of the best, and that isn’t just hyperbole. It’s all reconnaissance, direct action, and raids, going places no one else can go, doing things no one else can do. It's constant adrenaline and danger."
There's an intensity to the way he describes it that catches me off guard. "That sounds exhausting."
"It was exactly what I wanted at the time." He picks up a shell, examines it, then tosses it back. "But when my grandmother died, I realized I'd been running on autopilot for too long. She was the only real family I had, and I’d missed so much time with her."
"I heard she’d passed when I returned home. I'm sorry. She was such a nice lady."
He pauses, looking out over the water. "She left me her house, that old three-story place on Magnolia Street. It needed work, but it was home."
I love that house. The Victorian behemoth with the wraparound porch and the turret on one corner was one of the original homes in Pelican Point. "I've always wanted to see inside."
Wyatt glances at me, a hint of shyness crossing his face. "You want to see it now? I have a bottle of wine I was hoping to open soon."
