Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(11)

“Never gets old,” he answered, shooting an appreciative glance at one of his childhood playgrounds. More often now, it was an inspiring stretch during a run.

“I bet. Have you lived here long?”

“Born and raised. Only left for fire school up in Ocala.”

“So, you’re what they call a Conch, right?”

“Uh-huh, second generation. My abuelos moved here before my papi was born, so he was the first. Mami came as a young girl. They met in seventh grade. Started dating in high school and have been together ever since.”

“How romantic.” Dreamy wonder tinged her voice, a common reaction his parents’ story often elicited.

“They’re the real deal,” Luis said, the words true in many ways when it came to his parents. “Now my older brother, Carlos, and his wife are following their example.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“No high school sweetheart?”

“Uh, no.” His sweetheart had come later, with disastrous results.

Not one to usually bare his soul, Luis drummed his thumbs uncomfortably on the steering wheel.

“Me neither. Still, I can’t imagine how amazing it must have been growing up here. Oh look, someone’s parasailing!” Sara ducked toward the windshield again as she tried to follow the bright yellow parachute floating high in the clear sky, a long line tying it to a boat out on the water.

Luis slowed the vehicle so she could watch a little longer before the road curved onto Bertha Street and they left Smathers behind. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can stop and ask about making a reservation.”

“Maybe another day.” Sara settled into her seat with a sigh, adjusting her safety belt strap across her chest and bare shoulder as she did. “We have a lot to figure out and not much time before everyone arrives.”

She smoothed a hand down the peachy material covering her lap, then shot him a hesitant smile. The way she switched back and forth from Nervous Nellie to friendly ease fascinated him. The nerves seemed to take hold whenever her family came up. Which didn’t bode well for this little charade she’d talked him into playing. If she couldn’t relax, no amount of preparation would matter. They’d blow their cover five seconds into him meeting her parents.

“How about, instead of eating at the diner, we get our food from the Sandy’s counter down the street and eat at the beach?” he asked.

The location change would 100 percent relax him. Maybe it’d do the same for her.

“You don’t mind?”

He glanced at Sara as he slowed the truck at the stoplight on the corner of Bertha and Flagler. “One thing you should know about me, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

She bent over to dig in the tote at her feet, her blond waves falling to cover her face. When she straightened, she held a pink ballpoint pen and a leather-bound notebook. “That’s good to know. Let me start jotting info down.”

“You’re gonna take notes?”

“Yeah. I’m a visual and tactile learner. It took a while for my tutor and me to figure that out, but if I write something down and then read over it, I’m more apt to remember. It’s the only way I made it through college.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, nonplussed. Like they were discussing studying for some kind of test. Not preparing to try to pull a fast one over her family.

“How about I ask you some basic questions to get us started while you drive?” she suggested.

The pen clicked under her thumb; then she spread the notebook open on her lap. He watched her write his name at the top of the page in a neat script, following it up with a definitive line underneath.

The sane part of him that had been thinking maybe she’d reevaluate her offer over lunch and together they’d come up with a Plan B shriveled up like the potted plant his mami had saved off his back porch last week. He’d been ready to toss the plant in the trash, but his mom had balked. Something about it needing water, food, and conversation. Silly him, he’d thought he’d bought a fern, not a metaphor for a date.

Forget the fact that in recent years his dating life had the same mortality rate as any fern, ivy—hell, even the aloe—he brought home.

A car honked behind them, alerting Luis that the light had changed. He eased his foot from the brake to the gas pedal and turned left onto Flagler. The farther they got from the airport, the higher his reservations mounted. But he’d made a commitment.

“One small problem,” Sara said, tapping the top of the pen against her chin.

“There’s only one?”

Her give me a break glare had him chuckling. He liked the fact she felt comfortable teasing him, which made their banter more fun.

“Thinks he has a sense of humor,” she mumbled, writing the words in her book.

“Hey now, don’t knock my jokes. They grow on you. You’ll see.”

“Uh-huh, I can only hope.” The playful twist of her lips softened her dry tone.

He grinned, something he found himself doing often around her. Despite their bizarre situation, Luis realized he’d laughed more with her in their short time together than with anyone else in ages.

Edging his truck around an older couple pedaling a tandem bike, he snuck another glance at Sara.

Her plump lower lip caught between her teeth, she scribbled in her notebook. Sweetly studious. The type of study partner that had a guy imagining all kinds of non-scholastic shenanigans in the library.