Page 227 of The Romance Adventure

My thoughts spin and spiral.

Finally, I call my sisters anyway and relay the whole thing.

“Wasn’t he your first kiss?” Heather asks.

“No comment.” The truth is, Ryan was my first fifty kisses—we shared so many secret kisses that I lost track.

“Didn’t he also stand you up for prom?” Harper asks like she wants to kick him in the kneecaps.

He offered to take me and then stood me up. We never talked about it.

Harper and Heather give me every reason to decline Ryan’s offer.

But the fluttering inside gives me the opposite answer.

Ryan

CHAPTER 6

Now that the Plundering Pelican is non-operational, there aren’t too many options for dinner close by. The cabinets in the rental are empty. The Treasure Chest sells snacks but nothing nourishing. Nothing to feed a football player with the appetite of a bear.

It’s strange being in my hometown but not quite feeling like I belong here. Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. It’s just that things have changed a lot. Coco Key never recovered entirely from Hurricane Howie and, without my grandfather’s influence, has fallen into disrepair. We don’t have a town mayor, but he may as well have been it. He was what most would consider the team leader, or in sports parlance, the coach.

Chip was the kind of guy who you’d want to sweep your sidewalk for, display your best items in the window, and make sure his favorite ice cream flavor was always stocked.

What was his favorite?

Unfortunately, I don’t know. Never paid attention because it was always about my sundae scoop—all the flavors of an ice cream sundae mixed into the ice cream instead of just on top.

There are so many things I don’t know about my grandfather, including why he left me his diary, a pen with a plume, and the Sip & Scoop, the very place that used to serve my favorite flavor.

I sit down on the bench dedicated to the late Mr. Cross and look out at the water. My brothers have been freaking out about an old ship that’s been prowling our shores. I see it now in the distance.

But what’s at my back concerns me more—my past and what that means for my future, the shuttered ice cream shop, and what I’m going to do. Okay, and dinner. Not sure about that at the moment, either.

I hear a low growl.

A shadow crosses the patch of sunlight.

“Can I sit down?” a familiar voice asks.

“Did you just growl at me?”

Harley’s forehead furrows. “No. That was your stomach, Hot Shot. Scoot.”

Sitting in a full manspread on the bench, I shuffle over slightly.

“Come here to watch the sunset?” I ask.

“Yep and not to tell you that I’ll do it.”

“So, you will?” I ask.

This time she growls. It’s kind of adorable, like a kitten angry at a ball of yarn. Harley puffs her cheeks with an exhale. “Yeah, against my better judgment, the fluttering in my stomach said to help you out.”

“You listen to what your stomach tells you? If I did that, I’d weigh eight hundred pounds.” I pat my abs.

“I find that hard to believe.” I sense Harley’s eyes travel toward me.