Page 16 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“What on this list interests you?” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear while Dawson and I study her itinerary.

“Let’s get what we need for everything,” Dawson says. “Then we can play it by ear.”

Lexie takes off, collecting items for us to try.

“You never mentioned her from that night,” I say in a low tone.

Dawson’s gaze is fixed on Lexie as she buzzes around the room. “To be honest, memories from that night are a bit fuzzy, considering what happened.”

“Six years ago. She was just a kid then,” I say.

“She’s certainly not a kid anymore,” he replies.

For the next hour, we try on whatever Lexie tells us to, and a pile of gear slowly grows. We buy waders, tackle, a net for each of us, expedition-weight long underwear, wool pants, wool socks, bug-repelling clothing, and a first-aid kit.

The best part is watching Lexie, who seems completely at ease evaluating the benefits of each item and making sure we’re comfortable as well as prepared for any wilderness adventure she dreams up. It’s obvious she enjoys taking care of people, and I’m smitten all over again.

While Lexie helps me pick out a folding knife, Dawson sneaks a fly rod into our pile. I give him a questioning glance, but he ignores me.

“Why don’t you two head across the street for a bite, and I’ll join you when this is taken care of?” he says.

“So we can hash out our fun schedule,” I add.

The sales guy frowns, but I’m too busy watching Lexie trying to hold in her smile.

Inside the café, Lexie and I join the line. A small bakery case displays lemon bars, brownies and cookies, making me drool. To the right is the dining area with a huge window overlooking the bay and busy marina.

“Hey, Lexie,” a woman from behind the counter says. She’s wearing an apron and a bright pink shirt.

“Melody, hey!” Lexie replies.

Melody comes around the counter to hug Lexie. Then she gives me a questioning glance. “Who’s this handsome stranger?”

Lexie eyes me with a sly smile. An electric pulse shoots down my spine.

“This is Quinn,” Lexie says.

I shake Melody’s hand. She’s in her late thirties, her brown hair in a ponytail and short nails painted a striking turquoise. She’s wearing a necklace with a large polished stone pendant and matching beads that shine in the café’s warm lighting.

“Nice to meet you,” Melody says. “Where you from?”

I shouldn’t be surprised she’s guessed I’m not local. “Denver.”

“Vacation?” Melody asks.

“Sort of. A mix of business and a little fun. That’s Lexie’s department.”

Melody raises an eyebrow.

“I offered to show them around,” Lexie says.

“Them?” Melody asks.

Dawson enters the café and joins us in line, humming a tune I heard him playing a few days ago, which means he’s happy.

“There’s two of you?” Melody asks, her eyes widening.

Dawson offers his hand. “Dawson James. It smells heavenly in here.”

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