took it to a whole other level. Even her hair was different, loose and flowing in soft waves past her shoulders instead of in the no-nonsense ponytail he remembered. Sam in professional mode was hot. Sam in a skirt was heaven come to earth.
She spotted him and waved, her long legs skimming over the asphalt with the same athletic stride he’d seen in the field. He waved back, and sent up a prayer of thanks for sick babysitters.
She stopped a few feet away, rocking back on her heels to look up and meet his gaze. “So, where’s our third?”
“Actually, it looks like it’s just going to be us.”
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
