Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(61)
Cara perked up. “You know, this is a phenomenal PR moment for the aquarium. Big Girl is living, breathing proof of the importance of sea turtle hospitals. This rehabilitated nesting female has been out in the ocean laying new generations of turtles for ten years because you saved her.”
“Because the aquarium’s hospital saved her.”
“Right. But it’s nice to have a face with the story.”
Toy looked at the turtle. “That is a great idea.” She turned to Cara and said thoughtfully, “You really do have a knack for this.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Tell you what, let me play with the idea a bit and I’ll submit it to Kevin. He’s still the CEO around here?”
“Absolutely. Stop by his office before you go. He’d love to see you.”
Cara felt the kick of exhilaration she always did when she came up with a good idea. Something would come of it, she felt sure.
Chapter Fifteen
Loggerhead eggs incubate for fifty to sixty days, depending on the heat and location. The sex of the turtle is determined by the heat of the sand. If the sand is hot, the turtles will likely be female. If the sand is cool, the turtles will likely be male. Thus the saying “hot chicks and cool dudes.”
LINNEA WAS ON baby duty. Breakfast had been eaten and cleaned up after, Moutarde had fresh seed and water and was nibbling a stalk of kale, Cara had headed off to meet a client, and Linnea was sitting on the back porch with Hope coloring the new princess coloring book. Or rather, Linnea was coloring in the book and Hope was making jabbing motions at the paper. It was a nice morning to sit outdoors on the windward porch and let the heady breezes keep the insects at bay.
But the peace was short-lived. Hearing footfalls in the gravel, Linnea looked up and was surprised to see John Peterson approaching, holding two Styrofoam cups. His shorts and shirt were both wrinkled, as if he’d just fallen out of bed and slipped them on.
“Good morning!” she exclaimed with a short laugh. She felt a bit odd seeing him out of a swimsuit.
“Morning,” he said. “I went for some coffee and brought you some.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already had two cups.”
“But this is a latte. From Paname.”
“Oh, in that case, thank you.” She reached out to take the cup. “Come sit,” she said. “We’re coloring.”
“Can’t. I have to work. Just wanted to bring you coffee.” He caught her gaze and his smile deepened. “Thought it was neighborly.” He lifted his hand in farewell, then turned and headed down the steps.
She smiled, thinking it could be a very nice thing having John Peterson as a neighbor. She hurried back to Hope.
“Oh, Hope,” she moaned as she saw Hope drawing blue marker all over herself.
She ran to grab the marker from her grip. Hope immediately began to fuss. Linnea scooped her up and carried her directly to the kitchen sink. “Thank goodness this stuff washes off,” she said, turning on the water. Cara wouldn’t be happy to see blue tattoos on her baby. Hope became fascinated with the water coming from the spigot and forgot all about the marker. Linnea finished washing off the blue ink, and just as she was drying the baby, the doorbell rang. She smiled, wondering what John’s excuse was this time.
She carried Hope with her as she hurried to the door.
“Yeeeees,” she sang out in an exaggerated drawl. Her mouth snapped shut when she saw it wasn’t John Peterson standing on the porch, but Darby Middleton. Carrying an enormous bouquet of stunning white roses.
“Darby? What are you doing here?” she said, blinking into the morning sun.
His blond hair captured the sunlight, and his eyes were so large and blue, she felt mesmerized. He was well aware of this effect and used it to his advantage. He smiled, revealing beautiful teeth.
“I’ve tried texting you but you ignored me. So I had to come to see you.” He reached out to hand her the roses. When she didn’t move to accept them, he continued, his face contrite, “White roses imply pureness of heart.” He looked at his feet. “You know, I searched online and found stuff about the language of flowers. I wanted to find out what flowers would say I’m sorry. I discovered purple hyacinths mean Please forgive me. I looked everywhere—and I mean everywhere—but I couldn’t find a single hyacinth. Done in April.” He shrugged. “The florist told me white roses were the next best thing to tell you how very sorry I am.” He extended the flowers again.
She didn’t take them.
“Please, Linnea. I was a complete idiot. I was drunk.” When she frowned, he lifted his palms and hurried to add, “Not that that’s an excuse. But it wasn’t the real me. Linnea, you know me. You know I respect you. I’m so sorry, and I’m asking you for the chance to make it up to you. Lin, we’ve known each other for so long. Please. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
Linnea looked at him, beyond his imploring blue eyes. In so many ways he was still the little boy she’d had a crush on in grade school. The boy who’d placed her first kiss on her willing lips in the coat closet at cotillion. Her steady boyfriend throughout high school. He was the first man she’d made love with. They had real history. There was a time when she’d been madly in love with Darby, even thought she would marry him. At the very least, she didn’t want to lose their friendship either.