Page 19 of Viking

She hesitates, her fingers tracing the edge of her wineglass. “Alright,” she says finally. “Until I started college, I wanted to be a professional ballerina.”

I tilt my head, surprised. “Really? What stopped you?”

She gives a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Life. Reality. My family moved around a lot because of my dad’s job, and eventually, I just…let it go. I got tired of being the new girl at the studio every few years. So I focused on more practical things. I double majored in business and hospitality management and then got my MBA. But I think ever since I quit ballet, I quit taking chances. I often wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stuck with it.”

“You’d have been amazing,” I say, and I mean it.

Her cheeks flush and she looks away. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” I say firmly.

Her eyes soften as they meet mine again and the rest of the room fades away.

By the time dessert arrives, we’ve shared more than I expected. I tell her about the first time I saw an F-22 and knew I’d do anything to fly one. She tells me about her dream of having her own HGTV home-flipping show.

It’s not just attraction anymore. It’s understanding.

The night air is warm as we walk back to my truck.

“This was perfect,” she says softly.

I glance at her, my heart beating a little too hard. “It’s not over yet.”

She lifts a brow. “Oh?”

I smirk, opening the passenger door for her. “You’ll see.”

She narrows her eyes playfully as she climbs in. “You really like surprises, don’t you?”

“Only the good kind.”

The drive is quiet, the hum of the truck filling the space between us. Every so often, I catch her stealing glances at me, her expression unguarded.

When we pull up to Fort Monroe, the soft glow of the lighthouse stretches into the night sky. The fort stands silhouetted against the darkness, an American flag rippling above it.

“The fort at night?” she asks, surprise lacing her voice.

I nod. “Figured it’d be quiet this late. Just us and some history.”

She smiles as she unbuckles. “This is so thoughtful.”

I grab a blanket from the back seat and drape it over my arm, before taking her hand.

“Planning a picnic now?” she teases.

“Something like that.”

We sit near the water’s edge, the city lights flickering in the distance. Lila leans back on her elbows, looking up at the stars. Her heels are off, her bare feet crossed at the ankles, and for a moment, I just watch her.

She tilts her head toward me, studying me. “You’re not what I expected, you know.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

She grins. “Something cockier. Like, ‘Look at me, I fly fighter jets.’”

I chuckle. “Trust me, those guys do exist.” I hesitate, then say, “Can I tell you something?”

She turns to me, her expression open. “Of course.”