Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

LAWSON

Sure, it’s my room. But I leave just as the first streaks of light bleed across the water, slipping out without so much as a note. It’s not that I don’t want to stay—I do. But that’s exactly the problem.

The last thing I need is to get tangled up in something I can’t control. One night was supposed to be just that—simple, clean, no strings. No lingering, no messy aftermath.

And yet, as I walk down the sandy path from the inn, the weight of unfinished business presses down on me. The breeze off the ocean is sharp, cutting through the early morning chill, making me shiver. For a second, I hesitate, glancing back at the small inn framed against the pale sky.

I could go back.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

It’s better this way. No complications. Just a moment—perfect, untouchable. I need to keep it that way.

The wind whips across the dunes as I walk farther along the shoreline, the sand crunching underfoot. The steady pulse of the ocean follows me, but my thoughts are tangled with her. She isn’t the kind of woman you forget easily—sharp, funny, quick with that wry smile. The kind of woman who makes you feel like just a man, not the sum of what the world expects from you.

But she doesn’t belong in my world, and I don’t belong in hers.

When I finally make it back to my room at the inn, the stillness inside feels heavier somehow, as if something’s missing. I kick off my shoes, peeling off my clothes in one smooth motion. The shower hisses to life, steam swirling up as the hot water blasts away the chill from my skin. I stand under the stream, bracing my hands against the tiled wall, letting the heat sink deep into my muscles.

But even as the water pounds against me, she lingers in my thoughts—the way she laughed last night, the way her eyes caught the light, how her fingers felt trailing down my back.

I scrub my face with both hands, exhaling hard. This was supposed to be simple. One night. No names, no expectations. Just a brief escape from the chaos waiting for me back in New York.

Instead, it feels like I’ve walked away from something I wasn’t ready to leave.

Once I’m out of the shower, I towel off quickly, rubbing the fog from the mirror with the edge of my hand. I look at my reflection—at the lines etched into my face from too many sleepless nights and high-stakes deals. This is who I am: the man with responsibilities, deadlines, and things to fix. A man with no room for distractions.

I pull on the usual: a crisp dress shirt, tie . . . all polished, all business. Sliding my Patek Philippe watch over my wrist, I shrug into my jacket. One last glance around the room, and then I grab my keys from the nightstand.

Outside, my sleek black Aston Martin waits in the parking lot, gleaming under the soft glow of the early morning light.

I slip into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my back, and grip the steering wheel tighter than I need to. I take a breath, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of her—her voice, her touch, the way she made me feel, even if just for a moment.

No distractions. No second-guessing. Just business.

By the time the sun climbs higher in the sky, I’m halfway back to town, mentally gearing up for the meeting with the town council. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll finalize the purchase of the inn by the end of the week.

What happens after that? Doesn’t matter.

What matters is the deal. That’s all it’s ever been.

And yet, as I pull into the lot behind Cedar Cove’s town hall, shutting off the engine with a click, a nagging feeling gnaws at the edges of my mind. The woman I spent the night with. And somehow, I know it won’t be the last time I think about her.