Page 89 of Tempting the Heart

“That makes me nervous.” He chuckled as he hoisted Dottie into the backseat. She curled into a ball on her blanket, and I got into the driver’s seat.

Tyler climbed into the car and buckled, glancing at me. “Mae, I don’t want you to think that—”

I held up my hand. “Nope. Don’t say anything you’ll regret. Everything is dandy and just the way you said it would be.”

“It’s not just about fun,” he said softly as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“No, I know.” I shrugged, pulling onto the road leading to my parents’ home. “But that’s all I can focus on right now.”

He nodded in silence as I drove us along the center of town, turning toward the scenic road along the island.

Within minutes, I pulled down the home's driveway, and Tyler smiled.

“Just like I remember it,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Even the same colors.”

I laughed and nodded. “My parents aren’t big into change. They stain everything the same, and they paint it the same. Even when a plant dies, they replace it with the same one.”

Tyler chuckled. “Sounds like Cynthia and Theo.”

I grinned and unbuckled. “Doesn’t it?”

We got out of the car, but Dottie didn’t feel like moving, so Tyler carried her to the front door.

I unlocked it, and we went inside. Tyler put Dottie on the wood floors, and she waddled away, grateful to be back in her old stomping grounds.

“The place even smells the same.” He shook his head and looked around the foyer.

“What does it smell like to you?”

“Apples and cedar.”

“Really? I never thought about it.”

“I always loved the smell of the place. I don’t know. It’s just one of those weird memory senses.”

“Would you like a glass of wine or a beer? I’m sure my dad has some in the fridge.”

“I’d take a beer.”

We walked into the kitchen, and I opened the fridge. The only things inside were hot sauce and beer. I chuckled and grabbed two, turning around to see Tyler looking out back.

“There’s the treehouse,” he said, letting out a deep breath.

“In all its glory. Dad paints it every other year.” I handed him a beer and yanked on his other hand to the sliding glass door. “Come on.”

“You don’t expect me to climb in, do you?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“It’s like over twenty years old.”

“It’s in tip-top shape.” I winked at him. “Trust me.”

“Only because I love—” He stopped himself, and I pretended I didn’t hear.

We opened the door out back and shut it once we walked onto the back porch. It really did look exactly like it had when I grew up. The gardens were all in their place. The patio furniture was exactly where it always had been, and the treehouse was still propped between the two big-leaf maples and the fir tree.

As we made our way to the structure, I slapped the maple, and a few leaves fell.

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