“Still the most fun woman I’ve ever met,” he replied.
That’s what she was…fun. For some reason, her heart dropped to the wooden dock below her feet and left a hole of emptiness behind.
“Tessa, I’d love to keep seeing you,” he said. “I like laughing and not being…solemn. I want a friend—maybe more—but I don’t want…”
“A commitment,” she whispered the word, sorry it slipped out, but it did.
He gave a light laugh. “For lack of a better term, yeah. I want to put myself first for a change and spend time with someone like you—easy, breezy Tessa Wylie.”
And she nearly swayed on her wedge-heeled sandals.
What was he saying? That she was a good time girl—the very name of her boat—so he could have all fun and no future?
Well, yeah. That was precisely what he was saying. And up until this point in her life, that’s what she had been.
Searching her face, he brushed some hair away and let his knuckles graze her cheek as he got closer, clearly about to close the space that separated them.
“You would be the first woman I’ve kissed in two years,” he admitted gruffly. “That is, if you let me.”
She sighed. “Let’s wait on that,” she said. “Because the truth is…” She took a deep breath and made a quick decision. She wasn’t going to lie or play along. Not this time.
“The truth is…” he urged.
“Dusty, I’ve spent my life being the girl people fall for when they want to be entertained and amused. Not the woman they want forever.”
Dusty exhaled. Long and slow. “And you want…forever.” It was a statement, not a question.
“That’s as optimistic as a house with a water view,” she said, trying to make the confession lighter. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one looking for a change.” She swallowed and waiteda beat before adding, “It just might be that we’ve changed in different ways.”
He looked deep into her eyes, quiet for a minute or so.
“Okay,” he finally said. “But you’re not scaring me off.”
“I’m not trying to. I just want you to know that I’m…serious.”
“Why don’t we just keep it open to see what happens?” he suggested. “I like you, Tessa. One more date or two? Maybe three?”
She smiled, touched by his persistence and candor, but strong in her position. “Well, it seems we’re looking for the same thing in real estate. Maybe we can do some house-hunting together.”
“We’ll start there and see where it goes.”
They took a few steps to walk together, neither one of them able to let go of their clasped hands.
Maybe she hadn’t found forever yet.
But at least she was done pretending she didn’t want it.
August 4, 1992
Let the record show: I survived three hours of heatstroke, foot blisters, and sunburned sarcasm in the name of civic responsibility. All thanks to Seamus Donahue, who, in addition to being Uncle Artie’s fishing pal is also a Do Gooder, as my father calls them.
And Seamus apparently believes four Wylie-Lawson teenagers are the answer to an environmental crisis.
Technically, this was a beach clean-up event hosted by Seamus’s church or something, and they do it after some huge annual party in Miramar Beach that leaves the place covered in trash. Seamus wanted “positive role models” for the kids he brought from Destin and Fort Walton. So naturally, he called Artie and asked for the Wylie-Lawson Dream Team.
Plot twist…it was not a dream. It was a sweaty, chaotic circus, and only one of us showed up prepared to lead it. Three guesses and the first two don’t count…
Kate Wylie, no surprise to anyone, came armed with sea turtle migration charts, two mesh trash bags, and enough facts to host her own PBS special. She all but made flashcards for the younger kids.
