Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(31)
Cara smiled wide in acknowledgment. David walked around the two women and met her as she reached the top of the landing.
“David Wyatt,” Cara said warmly. “And Rory! How nice of you to meet us.”
“Of course. Have to teach my boy manners. Let me carry that,” he said, taking her bag with his free arm. “Your ride is right this way.” He guided her through the covered dock and past the two women, who scrutinized her with brazen curiosity.
“I think you have a few admirers,” she told him sotto voce.
David quickly looked over his shoulder. A bemused smile stretched across his tanned face. “Just neighbors,” he said.
Uh-huh, Cara thought, but didn’t press. She certainly understood the women’s attraction. David was a handsome man by any standard. But here on Dewees, clearly in his element, he was especially magnetic.
A long line of thirty or more golf carts was parked at the edge of the landing. How anyone could spot their own cart when they returned from the boat was beyond Cara. But David had no trouble leading them to a large navy double-seater with two car seats already strapped in.
“Your limo awaits you,” he said with a flourish.
“My . . . you went to a lot of trouble.”
“Golf carts are our main means of transportation here. We keep them charged and ready to go. It’s safer in the back, if you and Hope want to hop in. Rory and I will take you on the scenic route.”
After they were all strapped in, David slapped a black Panthers ball cap on his head.
“Panthers fan?” she asked.
He turned to look back over the seat. “Of course. You?”
She laughed. She wouldn’t know one team from the next. “I love ’em all,” she replied evasively.
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t watch football.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Did you bring a hat?”
“Forgot it.”
“Then you won’t mind wearing this one.” He reached down to pull a hat out of his bag and handed her a purple ball cap with an orange tiger logo. Looking at it, Cara felt her heart twinge. She knew this logo well. Brett had gone to Clemson.
“Go Tigers!” she exclaimed and put the hat on her head.
As she put on her sunglasses, David deftly backed the long cart out of the narrow parking spot, and they were on their way. Cara had been to Dewees many times, but each time she was struck anew by the island’s seemingly untouched beauty. Most of the houses were hidden behind a thick barrier of trees and shrubs, leaving a small footprint in the natural vegetation. Pine trees, tallow, and massive live oaks lined the roads, creating a ragged canopy of shade. Butterflies hovered over wildflowers, and birds sang in the trees. There was an abundance of wildlife, and Cara felt as though they were the only ones on the island. She understood exactly why shy Heather would love living here.
David slowed and pointed to the left as they passed a small lake. Birds of different sizes waded near the shoreline. She recognized the white egrets, then gasped with delight when she spotted the unmistakable rosy pink plumage of a few roseate spoonbills. Heather had told her about them, but she’d never seen the elusive bird . . . until now. They were like flamingos, with flat bills. Both elegant and comical. A beguiling combination, she thought, utterly charmed.
Thank you, she mouthed when he turned his head to meet her gaze. He smiled with satisfaction, turned toward the front once more, patted Rory, and then they were off. The little cart moved in its bumbling manner over ruts and small rocks in the dirt road. The second time he stopped, David stepped from the cart. He waved for Cara to get out as well, smiling.
“Come take a look.” When he saw her turn to Hope, he said, “Leave the children buckled up. It’s right over here. It’ll only take a minute.”
Cara was reluctant to leave Hope in the cart. Mosquitoes buzzed by. Cara was wearing thin jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, but Hope was in a summer dress and a sunbonnet. Cara reached into her bag and pulled out a light muslin blanket and covered the baby’s body. She checked on Rory—he had long sleeves and pants. Satisfied, she climbed from the cart. David reached out and took her hand, leading her only a few feet from the edge of the road. He slid his hand to her shoulder and guided her to stand in front of him, then pointed. Cara tried to adjust to the feelings racing through her with his body so close to hers. She followed the direction of his finger and saw a large pond just beyond the brush. Insects flittered in the steamy haze, and a few egrets waded along the mud banks. In the middle of the pond was a large floating dock. And in its center, resting like a log, was an alligator.
“It’s enormous!” Cara exclaimed with a short laugh.
“That’s Big Al,” David told her, pleased with her reaction. “He’s a celebrity on the island.”
“I’ve never seen one so big.”
“Not surprised. Seeing a big bull like that one is rare. Trouble is, since it’s legal to kill alligators in South Carolina, we’re losing our mature ones. That’s a surefire way to decimate a population, especially since this is an animal that takes a long time to mature and breed. That bull over there is at least thirty years old.”
“He’s lying like a statue out there. And those yellow-bellied sliders next to him don’t seem to mind him at all.”
“That’s because he’s digesting his food. As a reptile, he needs to regulate his digestive system. See how he keeps his mouth open? I used to think that was threatening until I learned it’s their way of regulating body temperature. Like a dog panting.”