The longer shedrove through Destin and along the stunning coastline that was Henderson Beach State Park, the more Tessa had to ask herself a critical question.
Could she really give up living on—or at least near—the beach? Could she stand to know that the Gulf was rightthereand she couldn’t see it?
Maybe, maybe not. But she had to start her house hunt somewhere, and this one was cute.
But it wasn’t fifteen minutes, not in late Sunday afternoon beach traffic. She arrived at the address on Sunsail Circle at 5:20 and didn’t see an “Open House” sign anywhere. There was no car in the driveway, and no happy Realtor named…
She squinted at her phone.
Lorna Gonzalez.
She took a moment to drink in the house, which was oozing with curb appeal and glimmering with a fresh coat of white paint and seafoam green trim that just grabbed her heart.
A swing hung from sturdy chains beneath the shaded front porch, creating a moment of welcome, as Vivien would say. The front yard was perfectly landscaped: neat shrubs, low palms, and a stone path edged with shell gravel.
Come in, it called to her.Make me your home.
Maybe Lorna was inside, cleaning up from the appetizers and drinks that any good agent would serve at her open house even though there was no other car in the driveway. Maybe someone was picking her up later.
Or maybe Tessa was late, and this wasn’t meant to be.
Still, she optimistically added a little lip gloss and fluffed her hair. Looking down at her shorts and T-shirt, she hoped she looked like a legit buyer. If not, she’d call and make an appointment, because this house had potential with a capitalpo.
Walking up to the front door, she took a breath and hoped for the best. Then she knocked once, waited.
The door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a tall man, easily over six feet, with a silver beard and black-rimmed glasses.
“You are not Lorna,” she said with a dry laugh.
“You just missed her,” he replied, regarding her intently. “Potential buyer?”
“I hope to be. Are you…”
“The owner,” he finished, rubbing a hand through salt-and-pepper hair. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you.”
She laughed lightly. “The real estate gods will strike us down?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
“I understand,” she said, unable to resist glancing behind him and seeing…homey beauty. “I guess I’ll call Lorna and set something up…but…” She winced and caught the edge of kitchen perfection just past his arm. “I’m here right now and…we could just pretend we didn’t talk.” She lifted her chin and pinned her gaze on him. “I’m a very serious buyer and I would love to see the place.”
He studied her for a minute, the hint of a smile threatening under that beard. “Cash serious?”
“Not quite, but qualified for a fast mortgage.” She hoped. Smiling, she reached out her hand. “My name is Tessa Wylie and I’m currently?—”
“Wait. What? Who?” He drew back. “Tessa Wylie? Like from…the Lawson clan in the summers?”
Her jaw dropped. “Do I know you?”
“Knew,” he corrected, inviting her in. “Dusty Mathers. You knew me as Dustin, but my wife decided I could not be Dr. Dustin from Destin.”
She held up both hands, trying to catch her breath at this news. “Dustin Mathers? Are youkiddingme?”
He laughed and reached out both arms for a friendly hug. “I should have recognized you, Tessa. Still a knockout.”
“I’m stunned!” she said, giving his broad shoulders a squeeze. “What are the chances of running into you? This is your house?”
“The chances of running into me in Destin are pretty high, since I’ve lived here my entire life. And, yes, this is my house,unless you want to buy it. Come on in, Tessa. Would you like something to drink? Or look around first?”
