Page 60 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

“Thank you.” She checked her watch. “I need to go. I don’t want to leave Dad and Butterball alone for too long. Thanks so much for the cake and coffee. The cake was delicious. So was the coffee.”

When she stood and began gathering their plates and cups off the table, he said, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do, Levi. It’s the least I can do.” She went to his kitchen sink. He followed and she felt something radiating off him. Strength.

Together, they washed up the cups and plates. Then he said, “Now I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that. I know my way.”

“I’m sure you do but there’s no way I’m not going to make sure you get home safely.” He took her hand and led her toward the door.

It didn’t take long for them to make the two-block walk. When they reached her door, she turned to him. “Thanks, Levi, for everything tonight.”

“I’m glad I was there for you.” Then he said, “Good night, Margie.”

She opened the door and was about to go inside when she turned back around. “Levi?”

He’d made it down a couple of steps and stopped and turned. “Yes?”

“I recall you saying that you’re off from the Green Fig on Wednesdays.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s prayer meeting night at church and one of Dad’s church members always comes by to pick him up. They serve everyone dinner and usually Dad’s gone for a couple of hours. I plan to cook anyway that night regardless. How would you like to come to dinner, and then afterward if you’d like, we can take a stroll along the boardwalk again?”

Margie knew that technically she was asking a man out, something she’d never done prior to now. Granted, she’d invited him to dinner before, but her father had been there with them.

He smiled. “I’d love to do that, Margie.”

She returned his smile. “Okay and thanks.”

25

Saint stood at his office window with his hands shoved into his pants pockets and his mind filled with thoughts of Zara. Lately, his thoughts were always on her. More so since his parents were back from Memphis.

Their return meant she shouldn’t be the only thing that occupied his time and attention. He was back to checking in on his folks, seeing them most mornings and visiting in the evenings as well. That meant he didn’t start his day waking up with Zara in his arms as often as he’d like. And more times than not, it was close to bedtime by the time he arrived at the cottage.

His mother had prepared dinner a few times, and her expectations were that he would join them. He noticed she never asked about Zara, but then she’d stopped bringing up Mia, too, and he was glad about that. In fact, he’d noticed she hadn’t mentioned Mia since their return from Memphis. He’d hoped at some point Mia had had a heart-to-heart talk with her parents, similar to the one he’d had with his, and that both sets of parents now accepted that there was no longer a Saint and Mia nor would there ever be one again. However, he was constantly thinking about a Saint and Zara.

She would be leaving the cove in less than ten days, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t fooling himself with that train of thought. He did know how he felt since he’d fallen in love with her.

He’d known the exact moment when he’d accepted that as fact. It had been one night last week when he’d shown up at the cottage and she was wearing his T-shirt. The same one he’d given her that first night they’d spent together. She’d worn it before a couple of times, but for some reason seeing her in it when she’d stepped out onto the porch to meet him had done something to him.

For the past month, he’d constantly told himself that although there was this special, unshakable, passionate bond between them, it would eventually get old or wear down. It never did. If anything, it got stronger each time they were together, made love or breathed the same air.

He could talk to her about anything and usually did. They’d gotten into the routine of him telling her how his day had gone, and she would tell him about hers. Being seen with her seemed right and normal. People had gotten used to it. More than once, some of the older people in town, even Selma Bivens of all people, had pulled him aside to say that he and Zara made a nice couple.

He knew that Zara had finished packing up everything for the Historical Society, and had started painting a new picture, although she hadn’t told him much about it or shown it to him. However, she had shown him a few clothing design ideas she’d come up with while here. He liked the fact that she would seek his business advice about things and often used it. However, the one thing he wished she’d done—namely, to seriously consider purchasing that building—she hadn’t. Too late now since he’d noticed the For Sale sign was no longer in the window.

One day she would realize it was a missed opportunity, although a part of him had an idea why she hadn’t been interested. Zara didn’t want anything of value that would tie her to Catalina Cove. Vaughn and his family were enough.

And then there was the cottage on Pelican Bay.

Zara loved that place, and he loved it, too. For him it was synonymous with her. He would never forget the first time she’d invited him there, that night after they’d gone dancing in New Orleans. The same night they’d seen each other, two and a half years after their anonymous encounter, and discovered the deep sexual chemistry they’d shared was still alive and kicking. Neither had a problem with picking up where they’d left off, since they both knew there would never be anything serious between them.

What he now felt for her was as serious as it could get. Although he’d tried telling himself time and time again what he’d felt for Zara was only physical, lust with a capital L, he soon realized what he felt was more emotional than physical.

He was convinced she was different from any woman he’d been involved with, which hadn’t been many. Although he tried not to compare, when he was with Zara he realized how many concessions he’d made during his relationship with Mia. Concessions she felt entitled to but never reciprocated. She’d never asked what he’d wanted. It was always what she wanted.

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