Page 45 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove

“Aw, for the love of—” An exasperated shout carried across the room, followed by the sharp sound of cards being slapped onto the table. “That’s it, I’m done. You fellas are cheating, I swear it!”

Hunter glanced across the diner, where the usual group of locals was engaged in a lively game of cards. Roger scowled animatedly across the table at Stuart “Mac” MacBride, sitting beside Randy Hart, the pair chuckling conspiratorially.

“Who needs to cheat…” Stuart started, his eyes on his hand.

“When you couldn’t bluff your way out of a paper bag,” Randy finished, followed by a roar of laughter.

Lyle Graves stood just behind Roger, leaning on his elbow against the booth. “I told you holding on to that seven of hearts was a bad idea.”

Roger swatted at Lyle playfully. “Get outta here, you old busybody! If you hadn’t been yapping about my cards the whole game, I might’ve had a chance!”

Hunter turned back to Daisy, chuckling.

Things had been easy between them the last twenty-four hours. They’d moved past the awkwardness and found their rhythm. Friends again.

He didn’t hate it.

He plucked a fry and slumped back against the booth as Roger tossed down his cards, storming away with dramatic flair. Daisy glanced at Hunter and covered her lips, stifling a laugh with her hand.

It was becoming comfortable, sharing these moments with her. Easy.

He reached out and snatched a green paint sample, tossing it in her direction. “I’m still voting green for the door.”

Daisy scoffed, pressing a wildly over-offended hand to her heart, and then shifted gears, pointing an accusatory finger back at him. “You listen here, Mr. Macho Contractor Man. I may not be an expert in contracting, but I do have a degree in design, and colors are where I really shine. You should take my advice. Periwinkle and all.”

“All right, all right,” he replied, lifting his hands in surrender. “Have it your way.”

“Thank you.” Daisy folded her arms over her chest in mock indignation.

Hunter took a sip of his drink and set the glass back down on the table. “It occurs to me, we never talked about Daisy the designer all those years ago. It was always renovation. Construction…Decks.” He gave her a pointed look at that last one, and she rolled her eyes. “Tell me about this fancy design school you keep waving in my face. Where’d you go?”

Daisy tapped her straw in her drink, breaking up a chunk of ice. “I went to Cornell, actually.”

“That’s impressive.” Hunter nodded approvingly. “Must have made your parents proud.”

Daisy’s smile faltered slightly. “Mom was thrilled. Dad”—she flicked the straw away—“not so much.”

Hunter tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “He wasn’t happy? That’s one of the best schools in the country.”

“He didn’t exactly see design as a ‘real career.’ He thought I was wasting my potential.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hunter said, his voice gruff.

Daisy shrugged as she picked through the plate of fries. “I dunno…I guess I can see where he was coming from. Dad was always really focused on my achievements. You know? He’d make a point to show up when it mattered.”

“Mattered to who, exactly?”

Daisy’s gaze flickered upward, catching his own before dropping again.

She selected a fry, picking it up in her fingers. “He’d come to state debate championships. Honors Society banquet. My valedictorian speech,” she said, listing off an impressive list of accomplishments. “So it was sort of a shock to him when I went into a field a little less…” She shrugged again, pulling the fry apart. “…impactful.” Her eyes lifted for a moment, catching his before finding somewhere else to look. “Honestly, if I hadn’t landed the show, I don’t know if I could really call myself a success.”

Again, Hunter frowned, his mind unable to match what she was saying against that lighthearted tone she couldn’t seem to turn off.

“Anyway,” she said, pulling that practiced “Daisy Decker” smile back onto her face. “Dad came around to it once the show took off. He calls every once in a while, asks how it’s going.”

Hunter couldn’t stop himself. He reached across the table to take her hand, his thumb brushing her wrist. “Seems like your dad really missed out,” he said quietly. “Because it sounds like you were already something pretty special, even before all the success.”

A mix of emotions played across Daisy’s face. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off.

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