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“You’re jealous of my turtles? Really?”
One look at his gruff face leaves me in stitches.
And there’s a lot more laughing and a few more tears as we flop down on a hill with a blanket, watching the turtles lounging under the stars, and I share everything.
I tell him how the necklace was the only thing I had left of my mom, and when the original was stolen, my stepmom jumped in to find a replacement that was just as meaningful.
You can’t hold on to material symbols, no matter how rare or special they are.
That’s how I learned it’s the meaning behind them that lasts, the memories and feelings and soul.
And even if he doesn’t know it, he’s giving me a thousand more as I rest my head on his shoulder, watching the turtles move like beautiful black animated stones on the beach.
“Never thought I'd say it, but I’ve had my fill of turtles for one evening. Thank you again for... for everything. For loving me,” I whisper.
“Dess, you make it too easy.” Growling, he rolls until he’s on top of me, pressing me down into the sand under the blanket. “Since you’ve already got that necklace and you'll put up a fight if I mark your neck, will you settle for a kiss?”
I answer with a smile, wrapping my hands around his neck and bringing his hungry lips to mine.
I’m just not sure if I’ll ever understand how I deserve so much love from a man overflowing with this much passion.
* * *
It’s notall fun and games and turtle picnics ending in honey-sweet kisses, though.
Honestly, the one thing that risks throwing a wrench in what we’ve built is the day when Shepherd meets my dad.
People know Cole Lancaster for his business record first and his stormy temperament second. In the coffee world, he’s somewhere between just king and king-sized jerk.
To me, he’s always been a softie who never gets tired of hearing me joke about the grey in his hair and the way he moons over Eliza.
But I’ve never brought a boy home before.
Certainly not amanwho’s almost twice my age, and closer to Dad’s.
When I was a kid, he used to have conniption fits over the distant possibility that anyone would want to date me someday.
I’m not a flighty teenager anymore, but somehow his overprotective dad side still hasn’t gotten the message.
And even though Shepherd is ready to be perfectly diplomatic the second we walk through Dad’s door, I know he’s guarded in his own way while I’m drowning in nerves.
Hey, it’s not like I left everything to chance.
I gave Dad a heads-up about what to expect.
I mean, the fact that the rumors were kind of true and I’m really dating Shepherd now got this off to a rocky start from day one.
Not an excellent sign.
At least they made it through one phone call without breaking into a screaming match, though. I’d like to think that the whole saving my life thing bought Shepherd a crumb of goodwill—or at least a teeny-tiny chance to explain himself in front of a one-man firing squad.
I’m expecting Eliza to fling the door open with a sunny hug and a dozen questions, but it doesn’t happen.
It’s just Dad who bellows “come” the second he sees us step up to the door.
He’s waiting for us in the hall, arms folded in a white button-down with his sleeves rolled up.
For the longest second of my life, he raises his head and looks at us.
