Page 66 of Beauty and the Boss Man

I simply nod, and Romy and I head for the door once more. When we are in our rental car, driving away from the resort, Romy asks, “Who was that guy?”

“Trouble,” I answer.

We head into town, admiring the gorgeous views along the way. I knew Key West is a major tourist trap, yet somehow, it still has a small-town feel.

My hand rests on Romy’s thigh the entire way, and there is a certain ease to it all.

I find a central place to park to walk around and aren’t too far away from anything.

When we step out of the car, I ask, “Where do you want to start, beautiful?”

She turns her head back and forth, looking up and down the street. “You think we could find a souvenir shop? I want to grab something for Veronica.”

I laugh. “Sweetheart, I think that’s the bulk of these shops.”

Grabbing her hand, I lead her to the shop that looks the biggest. Once inside, we walk around to pick out a shot glass for her friend and a mug for herself.

When we’re about to leave, she stops. “Go on outside,” she says. “I forgot something.”

I’m about to tell her I’ll go with her, but she’s already hurrying off.

I take a seat on one of the benches, and people watch for a few minutes while I wait. I see a few other couples walk by. I see a father and son riding their bikes and a group of joggers all running in step. I wonder who lives here and who else is just on vacation.

It doesn’t take long for Romy to reappear. I can’t help but smile at the mere sight of her. She skips over to me with two bags in her hand. She grabs one of them and gives it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Just a little something for you.” She grins.

My fingers open the bag, and I reach inside, pulling out a navy blue baseball cap with Key West embroidered on the front.

She says, “I thought you could use a new one. The one you wear at work has gotten sort of gross. And I thought maybe when you wear it, you can think of this trip—and you know, think of me.”

I use my thumb to trace the letters on the front of the hat. I don’t know that I’ve ever had such a thoughtful gift.

When I don’t answer for a moment, she gets nervous. “Oh no, you hate it.”

Taking her by the hand, I pull her into my lap. Not caring who’s watching, I lean in to kiss her.

When I pull back, I say, “No, baby, I love it. I’ll wear it every damn day.”

And I’ve never meant anything more.

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