Second Chance on Cypress Lane--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Reese Ryan

  She’d gotten up early and it was going to be a long and grueling day, since she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She and Sin had stayed up late watching movies. She should be taking a nap, but she couldn’t. Her entire body buzzed with energy, and her brain wouldn’t calm down long enough for her to drift off to sleep.

  Did her restlessness stem from her and Dexter’s kiss that morning? Or from having spent the entire plane ride with him? Either way, Dexter “Why’d He Have to Look and Smell and Taste So Damn Good?” Roberts was the common denominator.

  Since Dakota couldn’t rest, she showered and slipped on a tank top and a pair of old shorts. She checked in with her father. Then she spent a few hours outlining ideas for the two festivals she’d proposed, identifying mutually beneficial opportunities for the resort to collaborate with the town.

  Dakota couldn’t help smiling as she reviewed her list. She felt exhilarated by her work with Dex. Or maybe it was the thrill of working closely with a man for whom she obviously still felt something.

  She checked her watch. She’d been so preoccupied that she’d forgotten to order something for lunch. And now it was precariously close to time for them to grab dinner.

  There was a knock at her door. Dakota grabbed the remote and muted the home improvement show that had been playing quietly on the television in the background as she worked. She approached the door warily and checked the peephole.

  Dexter.

  He was more than an hour early. She looked a mess in her tattered shorts and faded college tank top. But compared to how she’d looked the day they’d crossed paths while running on the beach, she looked like a movie star.

  Dakota opened the door. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He smiled softly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to meet for another hour.”

  “We weren’t. But I never did get around to grabbing lunch, so I’m starving. I tried to call to see if you’d be open to an earlier dinner, but—”

  “My phone is charging by the bed. I guess I didn’t hear it vibrating over the sound of the television,” she said quickly. “Earlier is fine, but as you can see, I’m not dressed.” She indicated her casual attire.

  Dexter’s gaze glided down her body momentarily before his eyes met hers again. He cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed.

  “Or maybe I’m overdressed.” He glanced down at his dark-wash jeans and pale-blue T-shirt worn underneath an open, floral-print button-down shirt. One arm of his mirrored sunglasses was tucked inside the breast pocket.

  “No.” She shook her head. “You look perfect for the occasion.” Their eyes met as they stood there for a moment. Butterflies danced in her belly, and neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes.

  “Sorry, I should’ve invited you in,” she said finally, opening the door wider and waving him inside. “I already took a shower. Give me maybe a half hour to get ready and do something with my hair.” She raked her fingers through her damp curls, which she’d planned to dry and flat iron before meeting Dex in the lobby.

  “I didn’t mean to throw you off. We could meet downstairs later, as planned,” he said.

  “It’s fine,” she insisted. “As long as you don’t mind waiting while I get ready.”

  Dexter stepped inside. He seemed to be working hard to keep his eyes above her neck.

  Dakota tried to suppress a self-satisfied grin. Her ego appreciated the boost.

  She invited him to have a seat on the upholstered chair in the corner, then retrieved everything she needed. “Did you decide where we’re going to eat?”

  “We’ve got a couple of options.” He settled onto the chair. “We can either go somewhere really nice, like the seafood restaurant here at the hotel or a nearby steakhouse.”

  Dakota wasn’t feeling especially fancy today. She’d done plenty of that back in New York. It was Friday night, and she would be attending her first music festival in more than a decade, even if it was for work. She would prefer something fun and low-key.

  “And the other option?”

  He seemed relieved that she was passing on the fancy meal. “We could head over to the festival site early and check out their food truck rodeo.”

  “Let’s do that,” Dakota said excitedly. “I’d love to incorporate a food truck rodeo into our event.”

  He grinned. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “That was easy. Hopefully it’ll be as simple to figure out what to do with my hair.”

  “I like it that way.” Dexter indicated her damp, natural curls. “Always have.”

  She sank her teeth into her lower lip, and without thought, ran her fingers through her damp hair and tucked a few strands behind her ear. “Thanks.”

  The first time he’d said that to her, he’d sifted his fingers through her hair and pulled her in for a kiss—their first. Heat rolled along her neck and shoulders as the memory of his lips on hers nearly took her breath away.

  Without uttering another word, she turned and rushed inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Dakota took slow, deliberate breaths, willing her heartbeat to slow down. She sat on the edge of the tub to gather her thoughts.

  It was the second time today she’d found herself hiding in a bathroom after an encounter with Dexter Roberts.

  You really need to pull it together.

  But the truth was she wanted Dexter. Even though she shouldn’t and nothing could possibly come of it, there was still a part of her that wanted to believe it was possible.

  Dakota put on a pair of black, dressy, tie-waist shorts and the matching top, meant to give the outfit the look of a single piece. She gathered her dark curls into a low ponytail and twisted it into a bun. Then she applied her makeup. A simple, fresh-faced summer look. After all, this was a casual business dinner, not a date. No matter how much she might want it to be.

  * * *

  The festival grounds were already bustling with people by the time Dex and Dakota arrived. In addition to the food truck rodeo, a variety of food vendors sold everything from crab cakes to Italian sausages and sushi.

  Dakota had ordered crab rangoon from one of the food trucks and Dex had gone for lobster ravioli from another. They sat at one of the picnic tables as soon as two festivalgoers abandoned their seats.

  “This place is packed,” Dakota said as she carefully opened her box.

  “Our event would be small potatoes compared to this, but that could be good. There are probably a lot of people who’d like to attend a music festival but wouldn’t want to negotiate a crowd this size.” He leaned toward Dakota, seated beside him, so he wouldn’t have to shout over the blaring music that had started up on a nearby stage.

  “True.” She nodded thoughtfully. “But this festival started off small, too.” She shrugged. “Who knows where our event might end up ten or twenty years from now? It would be an amazing legacy to leave the town long after we’ve both moved on.”

  “Never considered that. Leaving a legacy, I mean.” He stuffed a forkful of the lobster ravioli in his mouth and chewed, savoring the explosion of flavors on his tongue. “I like the idea of leaving our mark on the town that made us.”

  More importantly, he liked that they’d be leaving their mark on the town together. That they would always have that connection. An observation it seemed prudent to keep to himself.

  “My God, this crab rangoon is amazing.” She picked up one of the crispy fried wontons filled with crab meat and cream cheese, broke it in half, and extended a piece to him. “You have to taste one of these.”

  Dex tilted his head, assessing her for a moment. Dakota had fallen in love with the appetizer when they’d gone to a Thai restaurant off island the summer before he left for college. She obviously still loved them.

  His lips quirked in an involuntary smile. Dakota had the same determined expression on her face now that she’d had when she’d insisted he try them that night long ago.

  Disagreement was po
intless. She was beautiful, as determined as her mother, and as stubborn as Chief Jones. No wonder she made a damn good investigative reporter.

  He leaned forward and accepted the morsel she held out, his teeth playfully nicking her fingers.

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she watched him chew.

  “Wow. That is good,” he muttered, resisting the urge to lick the savory cream cheese from her thumb. “I’ll take that other half.”

  She blinked, staring at him before picking up the other half of the filled, crispy fried wonton and setting it on the edge of his plate.

  He pierced one of the raviolis with his fork and held it up. “Would you like to try some of mine?”

  Dakota nodded, leaning in to take a bite. She chewed thoughtfully, her eyes drifting closed momentarily.

  His heart raced in response to the sensual scene. He swallowed hard and sucked in a slow, deep breath. “Good?” he asked finally.

  “Incredible.” She licked the creamy sauce from her lower lips, her eyes lingering on his.

  Dexter’s gaze slid down to Dakota’s mouth again as she chewed, then followed the column of her elegant neck as she swallowed. He shut his eyes against the hint of visible cleavage before opening them to trail down the rest of her body.

  We’re coworkers and old friends. That’s all.

  He repeated the words to himself, conveniently leaving out the part about them also being former lovers.

  A sudden burst of heat seemed to swirl around them. Dexter tugged on the collar of his T-shirt, in need of a hint of the cool air coming from a nearby fan. He cleared his throat. “Guess we both chose well.”

  “Would you mind if I had another ravioli?” she asked.

  He pushed his food toward her and she speared another piece with her fork.

  “Some of my fondest memories are of sharing a meal with you,” he said. “And there are so many foods I would never have tried if it hadn’t been for you.”

  A range of emotions passed over her face. A wide-eyed look of surprise; a soft, appreciative smile; then a frown that dimmed the light in her brown eyes.

  Dexter immediately regretted revealing that after all this time, his most cherished memories still revolved around Dakota. It made him sound lovelorn and pathetic.

  “We’d better hurry if we want to browse the craft vendors section before our show begins,” he said, abruptly, before she could respond to his statement.

  They finished their food in relative silence before relinquishing their seats. Then they walked toward the row of craft vendors selling handmade jewelry, clothing, art, and more. They visited several of the stalls, examining their wares, an awkward silence hanging between them.

  “Did my dad threaten you or something?” She stopped walking suddenly and turned toward him.

  “Why would you think that?” Dexter frowned, shoving a hand in his pocket.

  “You’ve been quiet and a little standoffish since we left my dad’s this morning. He didn’t ask you if I spent the night at your place?”

  “No,” he offered quickly. “He definitely didn’t ask me that, nor did he threaten me. Besides, I’m a little old for the Chief Jones intimidation routine.”

  “I don’t know.” Dakota laughed, walking toward another booth. “My dad had you quaking in your boots a few times.”

  “A: The man wore a gun and was the chief of police.” He held up one finger, then another. “B: Those weren’t any old boots. They were my favorite pair of Timbs.”

  “How could I possibly forget?” She placed a gentle hand on his arm above his elbow. Her warmth seeped through the layers of fabric, and little sparks of electricity danced along his skin. “You were obsessed with them.” She glanced down at his feet. “I’m surprised you’re not wearing a pair right now.”

  “Oh, I still love my Timbs.” He chuckled. “I considered bringing them on this trip, but I figured you’d be more impressed by the Cole Haans.”

  “The shoes were a good choice.” She met his gaze instead of looking down at his feet again. Her lips quirked in a mischievous smile. “You wore them to impress me?”

  Shit.

  He needed to put a lid on his mouth to give his brain a shot at catching up. This was why he preferred to think more and speak less. But there was something about Dakota that had always put him at ease and encouraged him to say whatever was on his mind—without running it through his usual filter.

  Dex turned and walked down the aisle of craft vendors again. “Are you telling me you didn’t select that”—he cleared his throat—“very fetching short set with me in mind?”

  “I honestly didn’t.” She turned away from him, but he still caught a glimpse of the adorable smirk that curved her sensual lips. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Well, you’ve impressed me nevertheless.” He stopped walking this time, turning to meet her gaze and return her broad smile. “And you could never, ever disappoint me.”

  The words, meant to be a compliment, seemed to cause her distress.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, her head turned away from him as she surveyed a booth. She turned and continued their trek past the row of vendors selling their wares.

  “We have to do a craft vendor area like this. It could really be a boon for some of our local business owners. Other coastal Carolina businesses might be interested in buying booths, too,” he noted, wanting to ask her what he’d said wrong but deciding against it.

  “Great idea.” She tapped notes into an app on her phone. “I like that the food and craft vendors are in separate areas. We should emulate that, too.”

  “Definitely.” He stopped to try on a few hats at one of the vendors. “Didn’t think to bring a hat,” he said. “How about you?”

  She shook her head and continued typing out her notes, completely focused on the task.

  They hadn’t come out to the festival grounds until late afternoon. But for the next two days, they’d be there much earlier in the day. The sun would be grueling.

  He took off the hat he’d tried on and settled it on Dakota’s head. He held his hands up, as if framing her for a photo. “There. That one looks much better on you.” He winked.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She went back to typing out notes on her phone.

  “Don’t.” He tugged her by the elbow and nodded toward the mirror situated on the table stacked with hats. “See for yourself.”

  Dakota turned reluctantly and looked at herself in the mirror as he tried on a different hat. Her mouth curved in a soft smile and she tilted her head, stepping closer to the mirror. She adjusted the lightweight, wide-brim fedora and smiled.

  “This hat is really cute,” she conceded. “And you’re right. It’ll be broiling out here for the next two days.” She reached inside the purse strapped against her body for her wallet.

  “I’ve got it,” Dex insisted to the vendor as he tried on a third hat and studied himself in the mirror over Dakota’s head. “And I think I’ll take that one.” He met her reflection in the mirror. “What do you think?”

  “Another good choice.” She offered a faint smile and repositioned the hat on her head. “And thank you for the hat. I appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, handing the man his credit card.

  As they turned and walked away, he resisted the urge to take her hand, as he had so many times before when they’d strolled together at carnivals or amusement parks. When they hit the end of the craft vendor aisle, they turned around and made their way back up the other side.

  Dakota tapped out more notes about the best locations for the event and where the craft and food vendors should be set up. He listened carefully and offered feedback when required. But mostly, he found himself completely enamored with Dakota Jones. Not just because she was beautiful and looked good enough to eat in that little outfit that showcased her toned legs and made his temperature skyrocket every time the top rose, offering a peek of her midriff. He was fascinated by the lightning speed at which her brain wo
rked and her curiosity about everything around them. He loved watching her interact with complete strangers, whom she instantly put at ease. She chatted with them as if they were old friends, her interest in them genuine.

  Dakota had always had a way of making everything seem so much more intriguing than he’d thought upon first glance. They’d walk past an old building in town or a statue in the park, landmarks he’d seen his entire life and never really thought twice about, and she’d stand there grinning, as if she knew a secret that the rest of the world didn’t.

  The moment he’d ask what she was smiling about, she’d launch excitedly into some obscure but fascinating piece of history about the place. Stories that made him see a run-down old building or a neglected statue in a whole new light.

  “You are a fascinating woman, Dakota Jones,” Dex marveled, his mouth stretching in a smile. “You always have been.”

  “I feel like that’s code for weird.” She giggled. “But thank you, I think.” Dakota checked the time on her phone, then slipped it into her pocket. “Our concert starts soon. We should find our seats.”

  Dex nodded toward one of the bars. “Can I get you anything? I doubt they’re serving French 75s here, but maybe a cranberry juice and vodka?” he teased.

  “No, thank you. But I will take another sweet tea.” She held up her nearly empty cup.

  They got in the shortest beverage line and he ordered another sweet tea for her and an overpriced beer for himself.

  She sipped her drink as she entered the line to the venue ahead of him. “I’ve barely been back home a month and I’ve already gotten addicted to this stuff again. I swear I can feel it going straight to my thighs.”

  His gaze dropped to her legs. It was difficult enough to ignore the sashaying of her hips and how sexy she looked in those shorts. Now his attention was drawn to the smooth brown skin of her thighs and his heartbeat went into overdrive.

  Cauliflower. Fake bacon. Skinny jeans. Centi…actually…His gaze floated up a few inches, assessing her bottom. That ass would look spectacular in a pair of skinny jeans.