Westlake. They didn’t “do” pedestrian food, much less eat anything that could be carried out in a box.
He bundled up the kite, then took her hand as they headed down the path back to the research facility. “Well, what do you say we go find out? If it’s a bust, we can always go to the little grocery store and find something we like.” He’d been working from the stash of cereal, sandwich fixings, soup, and frozen casseroles the head housekeeper Coraline had surreptitiously asked the cook to load into his truck before he’d left Atlanta. Plus there was the always-dependable peanut butter and jelly he’d picked up on their trek in from Atlanta, but, after a few weeks on the island, supplies were running low.
“Okay,” she said.
“Great. Let’s go give the kite back to Gabe—Dr. Langley—then we’ll head to the pizza place.” He’d get the number from Gabe and call ahead, so he could just buzz in, grab the pie, and they could head back out to the cottage.
“Can we see Paddlefoot again first?”
Morgan smiled, thankful she was too young to understand the wry curve to it. He’d thought the turtles would be interesting to her, provide a little distraction from . . . well, everything else, but again he’d found himself back in careful-what-you-wish-for territory. In a single day, she was quickly becoming fixated on them. “Just for a minute. And only if Dr. Langley says it’s okay.”
Her grip on his hand tightened as they sped up the path. He was definitely going to have to work a lot harder on that whole not-being-a-pushover thing. Today it was turtles, tomorrow it would be . . . God, he didn’t even want to think about it.
They opened the door and pushed through the screen of thick, dangling plastic strips designed to keep birds and other creatures from flying into the building and walked on into the welcome area. Morgan heard voices coming from the lab, which was through the door on the opposite side of the small foyer, so he headed that way. It was also the direction of the rehab facility.
He spied the doctor talking to the woman who’d come out to the beach a little bit ago. She was listening while Gabe was explaining . . . something to do with his work, no doubt. Morgan smiled, thinking he couldn’t recall seeing Gabe quite so . . . animated. In fact, when the woman laughed at something he said, Morgan could have sworn the older man’s deeply tanned, sun-grooved cheeks flushed a little. Not that his reaction was entirely surprising.
The young woman was a little taller than most, with an average build. She had on khaki trousers and a light blue sweater, so he couldn’t see distinct curves, but that wasn’t the reason for Gabe’s blush or Morgan’s more thorough perusal. Her hair was a show-stopping—and quite natural, he believed—auburn shade of red, cropped short around the ears and neck, but left longer on the top. Thick tufts tossed about by the wind sprang up, giving her a just-woke-up look that . . . well, on her was pretty damn sexy.
He was about to turn Lilly around and tell her they’d have to come back another time, when Gabe spied them and motioned them forward. “Hello, Miss Lilly,” he called out. “How was the kite?”
Lilly’s grip tightened on Morgan’s hand, and he felt her press against his hip. He glanced down. “It’s okay. You know Dr. Gabe now.”
She glanced up at him, then straightened a little and looked at Gabe. “It was very good,” she said, giving it her best Westlake. “Thank you for letting us borrow it.”
Gabe beamed. “You’re quite welcome. You can borrow it anytime.”
Morgan smiled, glad Lilly had spoken up for herself, but well aware it was a command performance. Her grip hadn’t let up one bit. He hated inadvertently playing the Olivia role. He had faith that, in time, as she healed and moved on in life, Lilly would eventually let her guard down a little and feel more comfortable around new people.
“Thank you.” She
He bundled up the kite, then took her hand as they headed down the path back to the research facility. “Well, what do you say we go find out? If it’s a bust, we can always go to the little grocery store and find something we like.” He’d been working from the stash of cereal, sandwich fixings, soup, and frozen casseroles the head housekeeper Coraline had surreptitiously asked the cook to load into his truck before he’d left Atlanta. Plus there was the always-dependable peanut butter and jelly he’d picked up on their trek in from Atlanta, but, after a few weeks on the island, supplies were running low.
“Okay,” she said.
“Great. Let’s go give the kite back to Gabe—Dr. Langley—then we’ll head to the pizza place.” He’d get the number from Gabe and call ahead, so he could just buzz in, grab the pie, and they could head back out to the cottage.
“Can we see Paddlefoot again first?”
Morgan smiled, thankful she was too young to understand the wry curve to it. He’d thought the turtles would be interesting to her, provide a little distraction from . . . well, everything else, but again he’d found himself back in careful-what-you-wish-for territory. In a single day, she was quickly becoming fixated on them. “Just for a minute. And only if Dr. Langley says it’s okay.”
Her grip on his hand tightened as they sped up the path. He was definitely going to have to work a lot harder on that whole not-being-a-pushover thing. Today it was turtles, tomorrow it would be . . . God, he didn’t even want to think about it.
They opened the door and pushed through the screen of thick, dangling plastic strips designed to keep birds and other creatures from flying into the building and walked on into the welcome area. Morgan heard voices coming from the lab, which was through the door on the opposite side of the small foyer, so he headed that way. It was also the direction of the rehab facility.
He spied the doctor talking to the woman who’d come out to the beach a little bit ago. She was listening while Gabe was explaining . . . something to do with his work, no doubt. Morgan smiled, thinking he couldn’t recall seeing Gabe quite so . . . animated. In fact, when the woman laughed at something he said, Morgan could have sworn the older man’s deeply tanned, sun-grooved cheeks flushed a little. Not that his reaction was entirely surprising.
The young woman was a little taller than most, with an average build. She had on khaki trousers and a light blue sweater, so he couldn’t see distinct curves, but that wasn’t the reason for Gabe’s blush or Morgan’s more thorough perusal. Her hair was a show-stopping—and quite natural, he believed—auburn shade of red, cropped short around the ears and neck, but left longer on the top. Thick tufts tossed about by the wind sprang up, giving her a just-woke-up look that . . . well, on her was pretty damn sexy.
He was about to turn Lilly around and tell her they’d have to come back another time, when Gabe spied them and motioned them forward. “Hello, Miss Lilly,” he called out. “How was the kite?”
Lilly’s grip tightened on Morgan’s hand, and he felt her press against his hip. He glanced down. “It’s okay. You know Dr. Gabe now.”
She glanced up at him, then straightened a little and looked at Gabe. “It was very good,” she said, giving it her best Westlake. “Thank you for letting us borrow it.”
Gabe beamed. “You’re quite welcome. You can borrow it anytime.”
Morgan smiled, glad Lilly had spoken up for herself, but well aware it was a command performance. Her grip hadn’t let up one bit. He hated inadvertently playing the Olivia role. He had faith that, in time, as she healed and moved on in life, Lilly would eventually let her guard down a little and feel more comfortable around new people.
“Thank you.” She
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