Page 52 of The Mistakes I've Made
“Bold words coming from a man so intent on keeping everything exactly the same.”
His brow lifted. “Not exactly the same, no. But I do believe in honoring the past.”
“Now, why do I have the feeling another history lesson is in my future?”
He grinned. “You know, I used to be an excellent tour guide back in the day.”
I laughed, trying to picture a younger version of Taylor Sutherland wooing girls with his fun island facts. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.”
“Stick around long enough, and I might just win you over with that hotel redesign,” he said with a wink.
I gave him an uneasy smile and attempted to change the subject again.
I could have told him that he almost had.
I could have told him that I’d spent all night after our trip to the lighthouse researching The Cozy Hotel, pulling up photo after grainy photo, trying to piece together in my mind what the hotel must have been like.
And then I’d done something insane.
I’d called up Jake Halladay and asked for not one, but two completely different plans for my hotel.
But I couldn’t tell Taylor. Why?
I was scared.
Scared that if he knew his words had worked, that I’d already been won over by his love for his town, so much so that I’d nearly compromised my entire project to cram in another design plan, all this would end.
The daily visits.
The conversations.
The rules I so badly wanted to break.
If he found out his work was done, would all this disappear?
Would he?
As per usual, Taylor was correct, and Taps proved to be a spectacular place for both beer and food. But, by the time we got out of there, it was bordering on late.
“I should walk you home,” he said, looking down the empty street.
“No,” I said. “It’s okay. I can manage.”
He gave me a look that said there was no use in arguing with him.
“Okay, fine,” I agreed. “But, if you’re going to walk me home, I expect a history lesson.”
“A history lesson? It’s ten o’clock!”
“You said you were once the best tour guide on the island. Don’t tell me you never gave private tours to cute, young tourists late at night.”
“Of course I did, but usually, it was just to the beach to show them the wild ponies, and when none of them would show, we’d make out.”
I let out a laugh. “And that worked?”
“Did you hear the part about the ponies? Of course it worked.”
We’d already begun walking, the buzz from my beer working its way out of my body as the chilly air hit my skin.
