Page 29 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

I press my lips to hers in a tender kiss, and when we part, she exhales softly, as if letting something go. Hoping she’s letting go of all of the heartache she’s endured, I lie beside her again and interlace our fingers, swearing never to be someone she has to recover from.

Chapter Ten

Taylor

After an incredible day on the water, we head back to Seth’s house to shower and change. I checked in with my father while we were out on the water, and I check in with him and Becca again while I’m getting ready for dinner. Thankfully, they seem to be behaving themselves. Becca tried to pry details out of me about who I’ve been spending time with, but this weekend feels too intimate to share, and once I tell her, I’ll have to explain why Seth thinks I’m Eleanor Mitchell. I’m having a hard enough time carrying on this ruse. It physically hurts not to tell him the truth, but I tried a dozen times today, and I couldn’t do it. The risks are too high.

This can’t lead anywhere, so why risk losing my job? Especially since Seth made it clear that he’s not the settling-down type. Besides, I’m knee-deep in it now, and all the wishing in the world won’t change the fact that I should have told him the minute he showed up on the island.

Slipping on my sandals, I take a few calming breaths and go in search of Seth.

I find him in the living room by the bar, which brings a rush of steamy memories from last night. My pulse quickens as I make my way across the room, taking in his black linen pants and aqua tropical shirt with a pattern of dark blue leaves and red and pink flowers. He turns, and I realize he was looking at his computer. I worry I’m keeping him from work, but the smile that crawls across his face tells me he doesn’t mind.

Suddenly his brows knit, and he looks around. “Did you see that?”

“What?” I look around the room.

“All my thoughts just whooshed out of my head.”

I laugh as he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kisses me. “It’s not my fault you make it impossible to focus on anything but you. That’s a killer dress.”

“It is not. It’s just a summer dress.” I’m wearing a yellow halter dress with tiny white and brown flowers on it. It has a plunging neckline and a wide cinched waist, which accentuates my chest, but I wouldn’t call it killer.

“You’re right. It’s not the dress. It’s the woman in it.” He kisses me again. “Did you check on your dad?”

I love that he asks. “Yes. He’s good.”

“Excellent.”

“Should you be working?” I ask, eyeing his computer. “I can whip up something for dinner here. We don’t have to go out.”

“No, I was just arranging for a care package for my man T, since he’s sick.”

“Oh,” I say with surprise. My man T? Why do I love that so much? “You don’t have to do that.” He’s sent care packages a few times over the years. I use a service in Delaware that forwards packages to my home in Port Hudson same- or next-day air, but I feel guilty that he’s sending me something now when I’m perfectly healthy and having the time of my life.

“It’s already done. He should have it tomorrow.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s go, gorgeous. You’ll love this town.”

“What is my lucky brother getting?” I ask on our way out, knowing I’ll need to send a text from Taylor thanking Seth for the gift.

“What every guy needs when they’re sick. Soup, tea, and whiskey.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Hey, I’d be lost without him, and being sick sucks.”

I try not to drown in guilt while we head into town.

The sky still holds a trace of rose when we reach town, giving the evening that romantic glow between day and night when everything feels softer. We walk hand in hand down narrow streets lined with colorful sun-bleached buildings with faded shutters and flower boxes spilling over with vibrant blooms. Strings of lights sway in the breeze above outdoor seating at a café, and music drifts from open doorways, blending with the din of voices. Storefronts stand open, boasting artwork, jewelry, boutiques with bright cotton dresses, specialty foods, and souvenirs.

My life back home is so busy and regimented, it’s nice to be able to meander with Seth and enjoy everything this charming town has to offer. We stop at nearly every stand, admiring handwoven fabrics, intricate carvings, baskets of seashells, pottery, and hand-carved trinkets. He’s patient with me, maybe even a little amused by my enthusiasm as I point out all the things I find fascinating, but I can’t help it. Everything is beautiful and different from what I’m used to, and I like discovering it all with him.

“Look at these.” I motion to small pottery bowls about the size of my palm, each one a different color, with wavy edges, their surfaces dusted with fine flecks of cream and sand, as if they were formed by the earth and not by a pair of talented hands.

“They’re gorgeous.” He puts his hand on my back, leaning in closer like he does so often, and says, “You’re dangerous in a place like this.”

I give him a curious look. “Why?”