Page 7 of He Saved My Boy
“So can I.” I grin mischievously before adding, “Besides—how else are you going to remember your day with the stalker?”
Her mouth drops back as laughter fills the room. Shaking her head, she coughs out, “Oh, Davis—I don’t think you’re that forgettable.”
I exaggerate as I purposely puff out my chest with confidence. “I guess I’ll just have to make this day one you’ll never forget.”
A perfectly sculpted brow raises as she challenges, “I may just have to hold you to that.”
The moment our purchases are in the bag, our tour guide returns. “Y’all ready?”
Before we walk to the tour boat, I quickly drop our purchases in the back of my Highlander and catch up with Teagan just as she gets to the boat. There are a few others ahead of her who must have arrived while we were shopping. Just as she’s about to take a step from the dock to the tour boat, the boat shifts, and she hesitates.
On instinct, I reach out to steady her. “I’ve got you,” I whisper so only she can hear.
Placing her hand on my extended arm, she holds it as she steps onto the boat, while I guide her at the small of her back with my other hand. Once she’s settled, she lets go, and I feel a sudden loss.
She shoots me a smile as she whispers, “Thanks.”
Thankfully, I don’t have time to contemplate it because John announces what we’ll expect on this tour.
“Once we’re all seated, we’ll get this show on the road!” John booms. “Please keep your hands and feet inside the boat at all times—unless you’d like snapping turtles, alligators, or three-hundred-pound gars having you for a snack.”
To this, Teagan visibly recoils from the reminder, and I find myself reaching out to squeeze her hand for reassurance. Wanting to give her the better view, I suggest she sit closest to the water.
Now, I’m regretting it. Maybe I should have taken the outside of the boat if she’s not comfortable by the edge of the water.
Thankfully, John assures us we’re safe—especially since we’ll be moving. But Teagan still doesn’t let go of my hand.
Not that I’m complaining.
Teagan’s posture loosens a little once we move up the river, but from her grip, I can tell she’s still on edge. John prattles on about the history of how his company came to be, but if I were to be quizzed on it later, I’d likely fail.
No, my focus has been on Teagan.
To get her to relax, I do something completely out of character for me. I gently switch hands and place an arm around her. At first, when she tenses up, I worry I’ve made the wrong decision. But as John talks, she settles against me, and she even laughs at something along the far shore of the river.
Now that I can smell her faint jasmine perfume with a hint of vanilla mixed in, she’s all I can think about. Her skin is soft and though we’ve only met this morning, it somehow feels natural holding her. Small strands of hair escape her braid and blow around her face, and her face looks of wonder as John points things out and tells about the history of Deacon, Texas. I’m far more interested in what she’s thinking about than life here on the bayou.
When we pass a large home on the side of the river, John points out that it once was the home of one of the first settlers but has been turned into a bed and breakfast by its current owner. The Monroe House Inn is what I think he called it. John’s a natural storyteller and even though my thoughts never linger far from Teagan, I eventually find myself getting hooked on the history found along these riverbanks.
“Holy crap,” Teagan whispers as she points to a log where a snapping turtle rests near the shore in the shade. “That’s bigger than I thought.” She scrambles into her purse to grab a picture before we pass by.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s not something I’d want to encounter when swimming, as I grab my phone. “I’ll stick to swimming pools,” I mutter under my breath, not to interrupt John’s latest story about the time he encountered a snapping turtle with his granddad as a kid.
“You and me both,” Teagan agrees.
By the time we return from our tour, we’ve seen more turtles, alligators, and quite a few fish in the river. We even see some deer lying under a cypress tree. Being the tourists we are, phones are out and we take several pictures of the wildlife and some of the buildings we encounter. I’m not sure who has taken more on this trip—Teagan or me—but I’d be lying if I didn’t sneak a few of her laughing in the process.
This woman is beautiful.
Thankfully, once Teagan relaxes, our playful banter from this morning continues. Walking away from our tour guide, she hip-checks me and grins. “You know, if you want to be deemed as the favorite uncle, you may want to get a photo of you and that alligator in the background by the shore.” She points to yet another alligator lazily lapping in the water.
“Uh, there’s no way in hell I’m turning my back to that thing,” I admit. “I consider myself adventurous but not stupid.” It may be a good fifty feet away, but that’s still too close to have my back turned for my liking.
Squeezing my hand, she admits, “Fair point. Besides, you got a few pictures they’ll love from the boat.”
As soon as we’re back in my SUV, I realize I’m not ready for my time with her to end. Truth be told, I’ve been more relaxed today than I have in months, and I’m certain the beautiful bombshell sitting next to me has everything to do with it. “Wanna grab something to eat in town?”
“I could eat,” she admits with a challenging grin that makes me want to kiss it right off her. “What do you have in mind?”
