“Easy,” Lyssa said after she’d climbed out. “You can order a bagel with bean sprouts and avocado and cucumber. Or a pita with tomatoes and bean sprouts and cucumber. Or a pizza with sprouts. Or a quiche with sprouts. Or a smoothie with sprouts.”
“Does that mean I can’t ask them to hold the sprouts?” he asked right before they walked inside.
She laughed, loving his fantastic sense of humor. “I’d like to see you try,” she said on a grin, marching through the door.
Lyssa was pleasantly surprised when Cal ended up liking the sound of so many things on the menu that he had to ask the guy taking their order what he’d choose for himself. Through her easygoing billionaire brothers, she knew not all billionaires were picky or difficult, but it was still nice to see how easily Cal adjusted to his environment. The restaurant floor was concrete, with huge couches and chairs, coffee tables between them. Movie posters plastered the walls, featuring films made in Santa Cruz, such as The Lost Boys and Sudden Impact.
“Want half?” Cal asked once their food was ready.
“Of course,” she said, “but only if you’ll take half of mine.”
“I was counting on it.” He gave her one of his beautiful smiles.
Warmth unfurled inside her as they split their food, and they both tucked in.
Their pita—with lettuce, avocado, bean sprouts, red pepper, and a fabulous sauce—and bagel—with cream cheese, sprouts, cucumber, chives, and spinach—were delicious, and when they were done, Cal said, “Great pick, Lyssa. I never would have come here, and I would clearly have missed out.”
“Thanks for being open to it.” She’d been testing him, seeing how he’d react to something so out of his comfort zone. And he’d passed splendidly.
Was this one of his get-Lyssa-to-fall-in-love techniques? Do whatever she wanted and act like he loved it?
But no, she’d never seen Cal be disingenuous.
And she felt herself being irresistibly drawn to him. Drawn toward one of his luscious kisses she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about.
But she wasn’t ready to open that door again. No, she’d need more than a drive down the coast and a nice lunch to get there.
“Ready to head to our next destination?” she asked.
A hint of disappointment darkened his eyes as they walked back to his car, as if he had been dreaming about one of her kisses.
“You bet. Should I keep heading south?”
She nodded. “I’ll tell you when to pull off. Just stay on Highway One for now.”
As they sped south toward Monterey and Carmel, the meal in her belly lulled Lyssa into a naplike state. She was still awake, but too comfortable to do more than enjoy the view of the coast out her window and listen to old Beatles tunes playing over the sound system. Thankfully, Cal wasn’t someone who needed to fill every moment with words. On the contrary, she’d always been struck by how carefully he chose his words.
She perked up when she saw a sign ahead. “Take the next left.”
“Are we going to explore the beaches of Big Sur?”
She just smiled. He didn’t know it yet, but he was in for something special. Something wild.
Something Lyssa.
* * *
Cal was enjoying himself more than he could remember doing since he’d been a teenager, before he’d turned seventeen.
No, that wasn’t quite right. With Lyssa, every moment was better than the last. London had been fun from start to finish. Even in the office, when she was there, he never stopped smiling all day.
But when she directed him to pull onto a gravel road surrounded on both sides with tall eucalyptus trees, he looked at her in disbelief. “Axe throwing?”
She beamed. “I read about it on the Internet, and it sounds like so much fun. We’re going to throw axes at tree stumps.”
He actually felt himself gape. “Seriously? You didn’t have someone plant a sign here as a joke? This is a real thing?”
“People go to a rifle range.” She shrugged. “Think of this as an axe-throwing range.”
It was cool and windy on the central coast, and only one other car sat in the dirt parking lot. Check-in was in what looked like an old-fashioned saloon, with rocking chairs on a long front porch and swinging doors. Racks of postcards and a variety of axes for sale packed the interior.
A shaggy-haired man in suspenders stood behind the counter. “Howdy, folks.”
Cal couldn’t help but feel like they’d stepped through a time warp.
“We’d like to do axe throwing for two.” Lyssa smiled broadly.
“Have you thrown axes before?” the man asked.
“Nope,” Lyssa said, smiling and shaking her head. “But it sounds like fun.”
“It sure is.” He gave them a wide grin. “Here’s how it works.” He went through a long-winded explanation that involved never throwing your axe underhand in case you accidentally chopped into your thigh—underhand was obviously for experts—and never throwing your axe at your partner when their back was turned. Cal barely stopped himself from asking if that meant you could throw an axe at your partner when they were looking.
When Cal took out his credit card, Lyssa held up her hand. “My idea, my treat. And don’t worry,” she said in a reassuring tone, “you’re going to love this.”
He’d never have dreamed up anything like this on his own, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and no doubt her enjoyment would be just as infectious, the same way he’d ended up enjoying the sprouts.
“The axes are out by your lane. But remember,” the man said, “no throwing when someone’s downrange. I’ve got a family out there right now. If you hear a whistle, you stop throwing.”
Out the back door, the range was a row of fence posts, almost like hitching posts, with the tree stumps twelve feet away. Cal felt the weight of one of the axes and immediately said, “We need to see if he has lighter axes.”
She hefted one. “These aren’t heavy at all.” Then she shot him a look. “But if they’re too heavy for you, by all means, feel free to ask for something lighter.”
“I was thinking about you.”
“Cal…” There was a clear warning in her voice, but he was only being logical.
“What if you strain something?”
She gaped at him, her breath a big huff. “You can’t be serious.”
He tried to explain the facts. “Now that you’re pregnant, you can’t do all the stuff you used to.”
She advanced on him, fire in her narrowed eyes. “Do you know how many times you’ve done that today? You don’t want me carrying my own suitcase. You need to make sure I’ve taken my vitamins. Now you think I can’t throw an axe.” She stood toe to toe with him now. “One of the things that made me happy about working for you was that you never treated me like a helpless little girl who needed to be taken care of. But now you don’t seem to think I possess the sense to decide anything for myself.”
“I just want to make sure you and the baby are safe,” he protested.
“We’re both fine,” she snapped. “In fact, the only person who isn’t going to be fine is you, if you don’t start treating me like I’m a capable, intelligent person.”