Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(64)

They’d ordered Clammer Dave oysters, crab fritters, and local shrimp in the shells. John stuck with India pale ale, she with martinis.

“You know, for all the time we’ve spent together, there’s still a lot I don’t know about John Peterson,” she said.

John tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugged lightly, feeling her silk blouse slide against her shoulders. “Where were you born?”

“Atlanta.”

“Really?” she said, surprised. “I thought you were born in Charleston.”

He shook his head. “My parents were born here. They met as kids and were high school sweethearts, dated through college and married right after. My dad works for Coca-Cola, so we moved to Atlanta and that’s where I was born. But my mother’s family kept their beach cottage on Isle of Palms and she brought us here every summer.” He looked at his glass. “I’ve spent summers here my whole life. After their divorce, my mother sold her family cottage and bought Flo’s house and moved here permanently. I was already in California so . . .” He spread his palms.

“It’s sad that high school sweethearts who hung on all those years could ever fall out of love and give it up so late in the game.”

“It was my dad’s fault. He traveled a lot and cheated on my mother. What an ass.”

She heard the twinge of anger still smoldering. “You never know. It takes two to tango.”

John shook his head. “I always thought they should’ve tried harder to work things out, but what do I know? My mom, though, she’s true-blue. You don’t cheat on a good woman.”

She pulled an olive off the cocktail stick with her teeth, thinking John had just risen several notches with that comment. She chewed the briny olive, sipped the cool martini, then licked her lips, aware he was watching her.

“So,” she continued, putting down her glass. “What took this southern boy to California?”

A wry smile creased his tanned face. “I went for school and stayed for work,” he replied simply. “Since I’m into computers, it was a no-brainer. California is where it’s happening.”

“Then what brought you back here this summer?”

He leaned back and his fingers tapped the table. “That’s more difficult to explain.”

“Try me.”

He laughed and rested his elbows on the table. “Well, the startup I was working on failed, which happens. I’m pretty confident I’ll find something, but while I was looking I thought why not come home for a while, visit my mom, see friends. So I did.”

“I know Emmi is over the moon you’re here.”

His face softened at the mention of his mother, and she could tell how much he loved her. “She’d love it if I moved here permanently.”

“My parents live in fear I’ll leave.”

Their eyes met, and they smiled in mutual understanding.

She said, “But you’re moving back to California?”

He nodded. “Eventually.”

“Any luck on the job market?”

He smiled ruefully. “Well, yes and no. My plans have changed.” When she didn’t speak, he continued, “I came back months ago, back in early spring. There’ve been some interesting developments.”

“Oh, I thought you’d only just arrived in June.”

“At my mother’s house. Before that, I rented a room for a while in a house on Sullivan’s Island that my friends own. Surf buddies—Richie and Trey, you met them. We go way back,” he added by way of explanation. “It turns out a lot of my friends are in real estate now.”

The waiter stopped at their table to freshen their waters. “Anything else I can get you?”

John looked at Linnea questioningly. She shook her head.

“No, thanks,” he said.

The waiter left, and John took the moment to drink his beer. Putting the glass back on the table, he looked at her with uncertainty. “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

“Very. I want to learn about those interesting developments.”

His eyes sparked. “Anyway,” he began, “hanging around together, I heard my friends talking about work and realized real estate in Charleston was still an old-school business.” He leaned forward, intent. “That’s when it hit me: I could apply new tech practices to transform the local real estate market.”

She smiled, stirred by his enthusiasm. “John, that’s very cool.”

“Yeah,” he replied, grateful for her response. “That’s what I thought. I’m figuring out a way to make a real estate platform that’s going to generate leads to home sites. It will help agents, sellers, and buyers—with data analysis to boot. I can apply technology that’s already being used in other industries to leverage tools and marketing practices to increase profitability.”

Linnea wasn’t entirely sure what all that meant, but she did understand that there was a whole lot more to this guy than his mesmerizing eyes. John relaxed and went into greater detail about his project. She learned a lot about him not only from his words, but from watching him. He began gesticulating as he talked, his eyes brightening as he explained a point.

It occurred to her that she’d never met anyone quite like him before. He was older, true. He’d had more experiences and was more worldly than the men she knew in college. But even that wasn’t unusual. It was his brilliance hidden behind his casual, laid-back style that appealed to her. He didn’t need to advertise. He knew who he was, his worth, and he didn’t seem to care if anyone else did. And he had passion about his idea. She liked that about a man.