There was more though.Leaving Aunt Celine and Milo, the only family she had, would crush her.And Harper, her sister in all the ways that mattered.
“Don’t look so worried, Shortcake.It doesn’t have to be a heavy decision, and we don’t have to choose today.We can put the conversation in a holding pattern and we’ll know when it needs to come in to land.”
Cujo drank the last of his wine.“Stand up,” he instructed.
She quickly downed the rest of the liquid in her glass and put it down on the table.
He framed her face with both hands.“We can work anything out, right?”
Any lingering doubts were washed away.Through his words and actions, she knew he was there for her.“Right,” she answered with a nod.
“And that conversation doesn’t commit you to anything.Okay?”
“Okay, but same goes for you.”
“Well, I was serious about the whole moving thing, but we hadn’t discussed what you would have to do for me in bed if you accepted my offer.”
Drea shook her head and leaned forward into his chest.
“Alright, Shortcake.Let’s get you to bed.Early start tomorrow.”
It was another hour before he let her fall asleep.
***
The water looked spookily dark, a shoal-of-piranhas-circling-the-underside-of-your-paddleboard-and-you’d-never-know-it dark.Cujo’s reassurance’s that they’d be fine carried no weight.The last she’d checked, gators still roamed wild in Florida.And even though her limbs were shorter than she’d like, she wanted to keep all of them intact, thank you very much.
Paddleboarding had been easier than she imagined.Fear of falling had been a great motivator.
Even on three hours sleep, the sunrise had been spectacular, a blend of shimmering oranges and pinks.Cujo pulling their boards together so they could kiss, perfect.
Drea shifted her stance slightly, as Cujo had taught her.She followed him to a narrow beach area.
“That was way more fun than I expected.”She really meant it.
“You did great,” he said, helping her off her board.
Cujo handed her the paddles, then hefted a board under each arm.The way the muscles flexed in his shoulders made her feel all kinds of horny.
Once at the truck, she whipped on a pair of track pants, savoring the immediate warmth from their fleecy lining.Cujo did the same and they were soon in the cab on their way back to the cottage.
He pulled into what looked like a derelict diner next to a gas station.The weeds were overgrown out front, the sign missing letters so it read WSTSIDGR LL.
“Don’t judge.”Cujo killed the engine.“Best stack of blueberry buttermilk pancakes you can get.”
Cujo helped her down and placed a hand on her back.They walked inside.
“Brody, sweetheart.”A woman with a platinum-colored beehive that added nearly a foot to her stocky frame rushed toward them.
“Hey, Barb.How’re you doing?How’s Hank?”
“We’re good, darlin’, we’re good.Hank’s at the grill, as always.I’ll send him out.”
Barb led them to a booth near the front window, the benches torn in places, the red and white gingham vinyl on the table peeling at the corners, but spotlessly clean.A window box of silk flowers brightened the table.
Drea chose the cinnamon and apple French toast, Cujo the pancakes.Barb brought them huge mugs of steaming coffee with lots of half-and-half, and a large orange juice for Cujo.
Cujo played with her fingers from across the table.His wind-blown blond hair was sticking up all over the place.
