Page 65 of Veiled

“Why not? We’re supposed to be newlyweds on vacation,” he says with a smirk. “If anyone asks, we’re sampling as much of the local cuisine as we can.”

I cross my arms, but can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Efficient,” he corrects. “Ridiculously efficient.”

A few minutes later, he pulls up to a small taco stand with a couple of picnic tables scattered across the gravel lot, fairy lights strung overhead. The smell of grilled meat and ocean air hits me the second I step out of the car, and I sigh in contentment.

“I don’t trust you’ll be able to pick, so how about you relax at a table and I’ll go order?” he says.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“Stops complaining when fed, noted,” he jokes as he leaves me to go order.

I shake my head but can’t keep from smiling as I watch him talk easily with the vendor. He orders what looks like half the menu, earning an amused grin from the guy behind the grill, then joins me at the table while we wait for the food to be ready.

“Okay, maybe this was a good idea,” I admit, climbing into the car with the incredible smells wafting out of the bag I set at my feet.

“Don’t worry,” Aiden says as he starts the engine, “I already placed the pasta order. It’ll be delivered about the time we finish unpacking. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of choices.”

For a fleeting second, it actually feels like a real road trip—music low, windows cracked, the faint smell of the ocean somewhere ahead.

The sun has almost fully set when we pull up to the rental house—a small, modern beach cottage perched just above the dunes. The windows glow warm and golden against the deepening blue of the sky, and the steady crash of waves fills the air.

“This is—nicer than I expected,” I admit, stepping out of the car and stretching. The salty breeze whips through my hair, and I take a deep breath, soaking it in.

Aiden grabs our bags from the trunk as I get the food. “Only the best for you, Sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with teasing charm.

Chapter twenty-four

Annalise

Inside, the house is cozy—an open-concept living area with the entire wall that overlooks the ocean made up of windows and the glass door that leads out onto the porch. To the right is a beautiful kitchen with white granite countertops, and to the left, a bedroom with one very large bed, more windows facing the ocean, and a bathroom with a rain shower.

“The food is only a few blocks away. Let’s unpack, and then we’ll get started on phase two of my plan.”

“Care to share so I can help?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p and smiling.

I finish hanging my dresses at the same time the doorbell rings. “I’ve got it,” he calls to me. When I walk out, he’s holding our two takeout bags in one hand and a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in the other.

“Where did that come from?” I ask, knowing they did not bring that with dinner. “We didn’t buy wine.”

He smirks. “You think I came unprepared? Come on, Wife.” He nods toward the back door. “Grab those glasses, will ya’?”

I hesitate, but curiosity wins. I grab two wine glasses from the counter and follow him down the short wooden steps that lead straight onto the sand.

The sound of the waves grows louder as we walk to the already-made fire and a pair of weathered Adirondack chairs overlooking the water. This feels like a dream.

“Sit,” he says, setting the food between us and handing me one of the glasses once he’s poured the wine.

“When did you even have the time to make a fire?” I ask, unable to hide my shock.

“When you were unpacking. Now, are you ready for phase two?”

“Of course, that’s why we're here after all,” I say, partially to remind myself that this is a mission, and not a real romantic night that he planned just for us.

“Okay, so as I’m sure you read in her profile, Mrs. Rowe is incredibly social, and she loves to know everything about everyone, almost as much as she loves wine…”