“I got a speeding ticket here the day I ran away from you,” he said as they stopped at the single traffic light in the tiny town of Jamaica Beach.
“You just couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” she said, a teasing smile on her lips.
“You terrified me. Still do to an extent.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you make me reevaluate my entire perception of what it means to love. I have always believed that there is only one true love for each person. I’d already found mine in Sara. I still believe that. But I lost her, so I was prepared to live out the rest of my life alone to be true to her. You, Miss O’Reilly, made me question that belief, made me wonder if a man could find a second true love.”
There was no way she could feel defensive when someone was as utterly romantic as this man. She struggled not to sigh like a fangirl, even though she was his biggest fan.
“Have you come to a conclusion yet?” she asked, not sure she was ready to hear if he thought what was building between them was true love, but dying to know his deepest feelings anyway.
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She stuck her tongue out at him because yes, dammit, she would. “I’m going to pretend you’re being mysterious, but I think you haven’t decided yet.”
Once the highway turned into Seawall Boulevard, the buildings all ran along one side of the road, giving Dawn an unobstructed view of the ocean as they entered the outskirts of town. The weather was warm and sunny, making the typically murky water sparkle a deep blue. The sidewalk along the seawall and the beaches below it were packed with the usual mix of locals, day visitors from the Houston area, and vacationers from home and abroad. She much preferred the less populated beaches of the east end of the island, but it was fun to people-watch here. A glare on her left side drew her attention from the ocean to the buildings they passed. Just visible near the bay side of the island stood three enormous silver and glass pyramids.
“Have you been to Moody Gardens?” Dawn asked. “I’ve been meaning to check it out.”
He chuckled. “They have a rainforest with live animals and birds roaming free inside one of those pyramids. Do you really think I could visit Galveston with Sara and not go half a dozen times? I thought she was going to rent space and pitch her tent there at one point.”
“Oh . . .”
He switched on his blinker and got behind a long line of cars turning left. “I think you’ll love it. They have an aquarium too. And beautiful gardens to walk through if you’re into that kind of thing.”
She was sure she’d love the place if it didn’t remind him of Sara the entire time, and she knew it would. “Maybe we need to find our own haunts.”
“Ones not haunted by Sara,” he added quietly.
“I don’t mean to be selfish. I just—”
“Want something special. I get it.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand, glad he understood.
“Then we’ll haunt the Strand. It’s kind of like New Orleans with an island flair.”
“I love the Strand,” she said. “I’ve shopped there a few times.” When she’d been looking for a little retail inspiration to overcome her writer’s block. She’d left with her wallet lighter, but not so much as a note had been sparked by her excursions.
“Sara wasn’t a fan—too much civilization for her tastes—but I’d love to explore the downtown area.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at her. “With you.”
Once they found a place to park, they browsed through touristy T-shirt shops, art galleries, a truly wild women’s clothing store—she fast-talked Kellen out of buying her a corset—and a cluttered but fun to explore antique store. Kellen loved the architecture of the pre-1900 hurricane buildings. Dawn was far more interested in Kellen.
At a confectionery they watched a live taffy pull, and she learned of Kellen’s weakness for licorice-flavored salt water taffy—yuck. He was equally disturbed by her love of all things chocolate. As they were strolling along Post Office Street to check out a boutique that a local recommended for its merchandise and its micheladas—some fruity drink she’d never heard of—Kellen stopped short when a young couple pedaled past them on a tandem bike.
“We’re doing that next,” he said, pointing at the license plate on the back that displayed a bike rental shop’s name.
Dawn’s eyes widened. It did look sort of fun and wildly romantic, but . . . “Remember when I said I wiped out on a bike in college?”
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s not that hard.”
“It is for me. I wiped out because . . .” She closed one eye to avoid seeing his reaction. “I don’t know how to ride a bike.”
“What?”
“No one ever taught me.”
“You were too rich to learn to ride a bike?”
“My parents were too busy to teach me.”
And thus teaching Dawn to ride a bike became Kellen’s newest mission. After dropping off their purchases in the car—her chocolate was sure to become one big sloppy mess in the heat, but he was so insistent that she couldn’t refuse to join his adventure over a bit of melted candy—they strolled toward the seawall where several bike rental shops could be found. She felt like a fool—all knees and elbows—as he started her off on a big-girl bike without any training wheels. He didn’t let her crash, but nearly did in his own shin a few times when he had to catch her until she found her balance. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as she’d thought it would be. Elation made her breathless when she finally took off without him holding on. She let out a whoop of triumph, the sea breeze blowing through her hair as she circled the parking lot.
A large curb raced toward her.
“How do I stop this thing?” she yelled.
“Use your hands. Squeeze the brakes!”
She pulled one of the levers and felt the front of the bike—but not the back—pull to a sudden halt. The rear tire left the ground as she skidded. Having long legs was an advantage. She stood and caught herself with several running steps, before letting go of the bike. The bike wasn’t so lucky. Its momentum carried it to the curb and beyond. Flipping forward, it clattered to the ground right next to a parked car. Dawn squeezed her eyes shut, praying it wasn’t too badly damaged.
“You did great,” he said—such a liar—and hugged her against him. She wasn’t sure whose heart was thudding harder, hers or his.
“That was fun,” she said, laughing, “until that dumb curb jumped out in front of me.”
“Maybe we should hold off on the tandem bike. I’ve only ridden one a few times, and being the stoker can be a bit unnerving. You have to have complete faith in your captain to not steer you both into the Gulf.”
“Did you ride one with Sara?”
“No, with Owen. Sara was too chicken to try it.”