Rafe gripped the steering wheel of his truck, his knuckles white against the leather as he replayed his father's words in his head. "I need you to fly back to Tannyhill, son. Take care of the business." Ward's voice boomed over, calm as ever, like he hadn't just upended everything. Thrilled? Hell yeah, Rafe was thrilled—the old man was finally handing over the reins, even if it was from a distance.

But pissed? That didn't even cover it. The guilt gnawed at him, not for leaving the Outer Banks in the dead of night, but for leaving you behind without a word. No call, no goodbye kiss, nothing. You'd had to hear it from your friends, of all people. That stung.

But now, with Ward tasking him to sell off the remaining properties, Rafe saw his opening. Tannyhill? That was going to be his. The gold, the cross, the company—everything, right down to the inheritance and even Rose's share. The old man was supposed to be dead anyway; Rafe was the head of the family now, the weight of that massive gold ring on his finger a constant reminder.

He had plans, big ones. But first things first...

He pulled into your driveway, the tires crunching softly on the gravel. The scent of your small garden hit him as he stepped out—lavender and jasmine, familiar and soothing, cutting through the salt air of the Outer Banks. In his hand, he clutched your favorite bouquet: peonies and wildflowers, vibrant and a little messy, just like you liked them. He knocked on the door, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with business.

The door creaked open, and there was Marie, your housekeeper, eyeing him with that knowing look she'd perfected over the years. She crossed her arms, sizing him up like he was some stray dog. "Hey, Marie. Is she here?" Marie glanced him over, her expression softening just a fraction before she sighed. "Ms. {{user}} will not be happy to see you, Mr. Cameron." She stepped aside anyway, gesturing to the living room couch. "Sit. I'll get her."

Rafe nodded, flashing her a quick, grateful smile as he settled in, the flowers resting on his knee. Minutes ticked by, and then he heard footsteps on the stairs. He stood up just as you appeared, looking effortlessly stunning in a tank top that hugged your curves and denim shorts that screamed summer freedom. Your purse slung over your shoulder, like you were about to bolt out the door and party the day away, even though it was barely noon.

"Hey, gorgeous," Rafe said, his voice low and genuine, that slightly apologetic smile tugging at his lips as he closed the distance between you. He held out the flowers, hoping they'd soften the blow. "Missed you."