And Sierra Lourde’s time was almost up.
He went to the counter, ordered his Coconut Dream donut and a coffee, then took off.
As he drove, his mind flashed through the past few months.
When he made the decision to stay, Kane knew he had shit to figure out before he came hard for Sierra. Her reaction when he announced he wouldn’t return to New York had proved all of his theories.
She’d lied.
All those scathing speeches about their night together being just about sex were bullshit. Her cold dismissals and distance had nothing to do with not wanting him. He’d gathered his intel with slow precision, planning to make his big move when it was the right time.
He gave her credit—she’d almost tricked him. If he hadn’t deliberately rattled her, Kane would have retreated and believed he meant nothing.
Instead, it was the opposite. Sierra hadn’t forgotten him either. He’d begun making a mental list of all the pieces that didn’t fit, until he saw the complete puzzle.
Her obvious jealousy over Callie and any other woman he was supposedly dating.
Her desperate intent to avoid him.
The panic she showed whenever they ran into each other.
Her hungry stare when she thought he wasn’t looking.
The way her pulse skyrocketed when he touched her today.
Her reaction when he announced he wasn’t going back to New York.
Naming her store Flirt.
He understood now why she ran that morning, even though he didn’t like it. The timing hadn’t been right. With her divorce, and his drive to succeed in the corporate world, the odds were against them.
But the second time?
She’d run because they finally had a chance. And she was scared.
Kane pulled into his rental place and walked in. The small home held two bedrooms, living area, kitchen, and one bathroom. The generous porch sagged and the backyard needed an overhaul. The floors creaked and the walls held some cracks. The shutters were pink with chipped paint.
But it was reasonable and walking distance to the beach. The furniture was comfortable and clean. He was even getting used to all the pink pelicans and seagulls the owner seemed to be obsessed with. Unbelievably, Brick’s cranky neighbor had known a guy who’d known a guy and gave him the contact number.
Kane looked around and briefly wondered what the hell he was doing.
Less than a year ago, he’d lived in a penthouse apartment near Central Park, owned a walk-in closet of designer suits, got reservations at all the hot restaurants, and held the respect of some very important people. Everything he’d worked toward had finally come true. Success and money gave him power. He’d made it in the most cutthroat city in the world.
Until everything exploded and he’d ended up in jail.
He grabbed a bottle of water and sat down at the cramped kitchen table. Taking out his donut, he ate it slowly in the quiet. After he got out of jail and crashed at Brick’s, Kane spent last summer brainstorming various plans to get himself back in the industry. First, he turned his focus on finding a new opportunity back in New York. But after reaching out to some old contacts, Kane realized the chilly reception from everyone in his old life was a sign.
Especially after he received the text from John that chilled him to the bone.
Remember our deal.
The warning did its trick. Kane left New York and figured he’d create a business here. But all the banks politely declined, especially with no money to back up his ambitious proposal. So, Kane did the next best thing.
He found a job in a small family firm. Kane intended to dazzle them with his skills. Rebuild his name. And make his way back up to success.
This time, he’d do it in a more organic way. He’d go slow, learn the area, and make the contacts needed. In the meantime, he’d enjoy being with his best friend. He’d embrace the beach and horses and his fresh start.
And he’d get Sierra back into his life and in his bed.
