Page 6 of He Saved My Boy
Cocking his head to the side, he raises a brow. “And what’s that?”
Shaking my head, I admit, “I tend to get stuck in my head. Promise me that we’ll focus on fun and go with the flow today.”
Davis’s eyes crinkle in the corners as he nods. “I’m positive I can hold you to that.”
For a moment,I’m not sure what Teagan will make me promise. I fear she might say I’ll agree to spend the day with you—but only as a friend. And that would be a freaking crime. The more time I spend with her, the more I find I like her.
She’s smart—not just book smart. She seems to know all kinds of random facts, which keeps me on my toes. But she’s also witty and has a sense of humor that hits me square in the solar plexus. By the time we make it to the riverboat tour, both my stomach and cheeks ache from laughing so much.
The moment we pull into the parking lot, I feel as if I’ve just entered a time warp. Though the tour company has made it into the twenty-first century with its social media, the building itself appears as if it’s been along this bayou for at least a hundred years. Sure, there’s a fresh coat of paint, but it looks about the size of a home built back in the late 1800s.
As Teagan and I walk across the small dock to get to the boat house, I find myself placing a hand at the base of her back to guide her ahead of me. Normally, I’m not a touchy-feely kind of guy, however with her, I like the way this feels. I don’t have time to contemplate my revelation because she suddenly stops and gasps.
Pointing to a spot in the river, she spits out, “Oh my God, did you see that?”
All I see is the ripple of water that obviously is from something big that has caused it. “No. What did I miss?”
“I’m not sure, but it was big, and it scared the crap out of me. I’m excited to see things because I’ve never been on a bayou, but at the same time, I’m glad I live in Washington. We don’t have creepy crawlers in our waters.”
“No kidding.” I chuckle. God knows what she just saw. I’ve read there are all sorts of things in the waters here in the South, but I’m curious to see them all the same.
“Welcome.” A man’s booming voice catches our attention, and I feel Teagan startle once again. “I’m John. I’m your tour guide. Have ya filled out the necessary paperwork online? Or do ya need to come inside? We’ll get ya set up in here. We’re just waitin’ on a few others to show before we get started.”
“Hi, John. I’m Davis Fallon, and this is Teagan. I believe I filled everything out online.” Glancing at Teagan, I find her nodding in agreement. “We should be set.”
John looks over a list on a clipboard. “Sure enough. Got your names on the list. Shouldn’t be long before the others arrive. Then we’ll head out to the boat and get started with our tour. In the meantime, you’re welcome to stay out here or go inside where the air is much cooler and enjoy our gift shop.”
Teagan tilts her head toward the shop and says, “Thank you.”
The moment we step inside what resembles an old shack on the outside, I’m reminded of that saying about never judge a book by its cover. The building has been renovated and is obviously up to date with its air conditioning because I could be stepping into a surgical suite for as cool as the room feels. It’s refreshing after the blistering Texas heat.
Teagan and I look around at the specialty souvenirs at the shop. There are key chains, trinkets, and a few t-shirts. With a stoic face, Teagan stops to hold up a neon-green t-shirt against her,I’m the River Queen.With her most regal expression, she touts, “What do ya think? Can I pull it off?”
She could pull off anything, but I pretend to think it over as I thumb through the shirts on the rack. This one might be better. “In light of what you saw earlier, this might be more appropriate…” I hold up a shirt that saysI only gamble when I’m floating the bayou.
“Oh my God. That’s perfect.” She laughs as she snags it out of my hand to hold it against herself. “I might just have to get myself this one.”
We browse for a few more minutes before making our way to the register near the door. When we pass by a table with blankets and baskets with an assortment of toys, Teagan stops once again. “Did your brother say what colors are in the nursery?”
I rack my brain to think if he’s mentioned anything. “Nope. Can’t say that he has. It’s not the kind of thing we talk about,” I admit in defense.
Lifting a few blankets, she pulls out a mint-green blanket with all sorts of textured tags sewn into the border. I know these are popular with infants and toddlers at the hospital. ““What do you think of this?” she asks with interest.
When she shakes the blanket to reveal its full size, I’m surprised to find it’s bigger than most infant blankets. This one would be big enough for my niece for years to come. One side is a bumpy, soft fabric, and the other is the same fabric as the satin tags protruding out in every direction. “I think we may have a winner,” I admit. “Both Melody and Tessa could fit under this for a while—at least until she outgrows it.”
Not even looking at the price of the obviously handmade blanket, I take it from Teagan’s hands. “This will be a hit for sure. I remember my nieces and nephews all having something like this—but much smaller. They were so sad when they outgrew them.”
“I could snuggle in this blanket for days,” Teagan admits with a grin. “Though not in this Texas heat. Maybe in the comforts of an air-conditioned room though.”
“No kidding. I’ve lived here for two years, and I still forget how hot it can be when I venture outside the comforts of modern conveniences.”
“What brought you to Texas?”
“Work.” I shrug as I place the blanket on the counter to purchase.
A woman older than my mom kindly rings me up, and I throw in the t-shirt Teagan hasn’t stopped carrying.
“Uh… I could get that,” she protests after her shock wears off from me snagging it out of her hands.
