Page 31 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

She and I want the same thing. We both need to prove we can do the jobs we were born to do. Our methods are different, but we have the same goals for this property.

I cup her elbow. “We can talk about this later.”

She twists free. “No. Now. Yell at me. Tell me I’m an idiot.”

I hold her hazel gaze. Bravado gone, she lets me see into her soul. She’s so scared she won’t live up to everyone’s expectations that I can’t help but wonder what she expects of herself.

She let a surly teenager crush her dreams of being a senator. What other dreams has she buried because other people keep telling her who she is instead of letting her decide for herself?

“I can’t tell you you’re an idiot. You made a choice given the information you had at the time. I wish you hadn’t lied, but given the circumstances, it makes sense. I would have demanded to see your dad, and I wouldn’t have agreed to your terms. You’re soaked to the bone. Let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee full of sugar, and then we can decide what to do next.”

“I don’t like it when you’re nice to me.”

“I’m not always an asshole.”

“It’s easier when you are.”

“Why’s that?” My gaze drops to her lips, and she sucks in a breath.

Rain coats her skin. Her lips are plump and kissable, but they’re also turning blue.

As much as I’d love to let this tension stretch, to see what she does with it, I can’t let her catch hypothermia. Lightning shatters the sky, and we flinch.

I hold my hand out. “Coffee?”

Chapter 9

Landon

By the time I get Zoe tucked into her car, rain is coming down in sheets. I turn my windshield wipers on maximum and shift into drive. Zoe executes a five-point turn and heads down the steep driveway in front of me. Water washes across the road in rivers, slowing her progress.

Why doesn’t she have a four-wheel drive vehicle living out here?

Thunder crackles and lightning illuminates the sky, shaking my car with its intensity. A tree fractures and falls across the road in front of Zoe’s car. She slams on her brakes. The back of her car fishtails toward the edge of the cliff.

My pulse accelerates, and I slam on my brakes. The front bumper of my car misses hers by inches, and I swerve into the side of the hill.

Her back wheel bumps off the edge. The car balances precariously. Her windshield wipers flick across the glass, and I glimpse her ashen face and death grip on the steering wheel before the rain blocks my view again.

I jam my car into park and vault out the door.

The ground underneath the tree gives way, and the outside edge of the driveway crumbles into the ravine below us, inching its way toward her car.

Scrambling across the wet rock and mud, my dress shoes squelch and stick. I fling her door open. “Zoe, let’s go.”

She shakes her head and wraps her arms around the steering wheel. “I can’t.” Tears stream down her cheeks and wrench my heart. She’s petrified.

Rain pounds against my back. The ground shakes with another lightning strike not twenty feet away.

“We don’t have time for this.” I peel her grip from the steering wheel, scoop her into my arms, and carry her to my car. Her face presses into my neck. Hot, shallow breaths warm my chest. “I got you.”

My shoes slip, forcing me to slow my pace. Rain blurs my vision. I hold her trembling body tighter, so she knows I’ll take care of her.

Nothing bad will happen. I promise.

I tug the passenger door open with one hand and gently place her on the seat, buckling her in. Slamming her door, I run to my side, launch myself into the driver seat, and throw the car into reverse.

The ground shakes again as I maneuver up the tight, narrow driveway. As we round the corner, the last glimpse I see of Zoe’s Mini Cooper is the headlights flickering as it disappears when the rest of the driveway crumbles off the cliff.