Page 18 of The Waterfront Way

“Watch TV,” she said without missing a beat. “I like some of the reality shows, especially the cooking ones.”

He laughed for a moment. “Okay, sounds like you.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant. She wanted to think she could pick something that “sounded like him,” but did she know him well enough for that? “Thelma likes to go thrifting, so I’ll go to garage sales and estate sales with her.”

“Thrifting,” he mused. “That’s a new buzzword for sure. We say it in real estate like, ‘Oh, you could dress up this room with a thrifted lamp for really cheap.’”

Sage grinned, her feet feeling lighter than they had all week. And for someone who spent all day on her feet, and as it was Friday, that was saying something. “There you go,” she said. Gypsy wandered ahead of them, following a white doodle from the grass to the sand. Sage loved the beach in the evening, the way the water glinted with the light still trying to reach it from the Western horizon.

“I like listening to the ocean,” Ty said, his voice almost getting swallowed up in the sound of the waves. “I go out on my balcony at night—that’s about the only downtime I have—and I just…listen.”

“What do they say to you?” Sage asked.

“I’m still trying to learn their language.” He gave her a smile that seemed absolutely authentic. No masks. No mirrors. No trying to be anything or anyone but who he was.

Sage adored that, and she squeezed his hand. “Sounds lovely. I do like the beach.”

“So you want a beachfront property?”

She laughed, the sound simply flying from her throat. “I do,” she said. “Who doesn’t? But I don’t think I can afford that.”

A round of barking filled the air, and Sage instantly looked around for Ty’s dogs. It wasn’t them causing a ruckus, though he’d gone on high alert too. “Brother.” He whistled, and the golden came toward him. Sherman followed, and Ty added, “You guys stay closer to me.”

They did, even without their leashes, and Gypsy had decided he could roam ahead about fifteen or twenty feet, and then he’d come back. Sage smiled at him, trailed her fingers along the top tuft of fur along his head, and around her he went again.

“I’m looking for somewhere that I can…cultivate,” she said. “I want a yard where Gypsy can run, where I can plant flowers and maybe even a vegetable garden. I want chickens. I want a little shed out back.”

“For that furniture rebuilding,” he teased.

She smiled, but no. “For my gardening tools. For the chicken feed.” She bumped him with her hip. “I’m from Texas, you know.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I like being outside. I wouldn’t be opposed to a little river running through the property. I don’t have small kids or anything.”

“A river, huh?” He probably had the listings on the island memorized; Sage wouldn’t put that past him. Ty was a smart man, athletic, handsome…

She cleared her throat and focused. “I want two bedrooms, minimum. Two bathrooms. I don’t want to share with my friends when they come over for Supper Club. And of course, I need a decently-sized dining room and kitchen.”

“For the Supper Club.”

“For the Supper Club,” she confirmed. “My kids probably won’t come too often.” A sense of missing moved through her, because she did love her children. “I have three. Have I told you that?”

“Once,” he said. “A boy and two girls?”

“Two boys—neither is married—and a girl. Kayla is married. She and her husband have a little boy, and they live in Santa Fe.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“My boys are still in Sweet Water Falls,” she said. “They’re cowboys. Work a farm there.”

“So the outdoors runs in your blood.” He wore a smile in his voice, and Sage liked that.

“That it does.” She turned her face into the breeze, relieved when it cooled her face and pushed her hair back. “I love reading beside the pool.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Just one thing you love.”

He gave her a dubious look that melted away after a moment. “I love watching the sunset.”

“I love reading romance novels.”

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