Frank drive away with your suitcase?”
“Uh-huh. He’s dropping it at the Gull Motel for me. I managed to snag a last-minute cancellation.”
“Why don’t you stay here? Dad can be our chaperone.”
“But there’s only one guest room—and I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, which is what you’d offer to do if I stayed.”
“It would be a small sacrifice to have you close. Cancel the motel. I’ll call Frank and ask him to run back with your suitcase.” He reached for his phone.
She grabbed his arm. “Nope. It’s the motel for me. We can’t be together while we’re sleeping anyway.” A yawn snuck up on her, too fast to smother. “Whoops. Sorry.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Much as he’d like to spend the next few hours kissing and talking . . . and kissing some more . . . Katherine needed to sleep.
“I’ll take you to the motel. You can get a full night’s sleep, and we’ll spend all day tomorrow together.” He tried to disengage, but she tightened her grip.
“I’m not going to deny I’m tired—but can’t we stay here by the fire for a few more minutes?”
As always, she was impossible to refuse.
“If that’s what you want.” He urged her back against him.
With a contented sigh, she nestled close again. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be on this Thanksgiving Day.”
He stroked her hair, corralling the desire to launch a heavy kissing session. That could wait until tomorrow, when the woman in his arms wasn’t running on adrenaline. “Tell me about the chocolate shop you’re going to open.”
She complied, but as he asked her a few questions, she began to drift off.
He let her.
Whenever she awakened, he’d take her to the Gull so she could get some real sleep.
But for now, he was as happy as a seagull with a french fry just to hold her in his arms and give thanks on this appropriately named day. For he agreed with what Katherine had said a few minutes ago.
There was nowhere he’d rather be on this Thanksgiving Day.
And it was exactly where he hoped to be on every Thanksgiving Day to come for the rest of his life.
Epilogue
“Ready for the big day tomorrow?”
At the question, Katherine straightened up from the glass display case, polishing cloth in hand, and smiled at the man in the doorway who’d walked with her on every step of the journey from doodles on a paper napkin to hands-on renovations to tomorrow’s grand opening of Chocolate Harbor.
“As ready as I can be—and more than a little nervous.”
“After all the press you’ve gotten, you shouldn’t be. And the residents are chomping at the bit to support your business.” Zach continued through the door and shut it behind him, a wicker picnic basket in hand.
“What’s that for?” She motioned to the antique-looking hamper. “And why aren’t you at The Perfect Blend? Fridays are always super busy.”
“Shop’s closed for the day. Did you eat lunch?”
She twisted her wrist and gaped at her watch. “I can’t believe it’s two o’clock already.”
“I’ll take that as a no on lunch. Let’s go to the beach.” He lifted the hamper. “I owe you a picnic.”
“Now?”
“Why not? You’re ready for the opening. If you hang around here, you’ll just get more nervous.” He held out his hand. “Thanks to uncooperative weather, we never did get to reschedule our cancelled beach picnic from September, and this gorgeous May day is made for a celebration on the sand.”
“Sold.” She tucked the cloth under the pristine counter and circled around to join him. “Besides, I have another piece of news to share that also deserves a celebration.”
“Any hints?”
“Not until we’re at the beach.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road. Do you want to swing by your house first?”
“You mean Frank’s house. It still doesn’t feel like mine.”
“He may own it, but it’s yours as long as you want to rent it, now that he and Stephanie are ensconced as houseparents at Hope House.”
“I’m glad that worked out for them. They seem to be loving it.”
He switched the hamper to his other hand. “You know, it’s funny. All those years Stephanie was enmeshed in her career, I never thought of her as the motherly type. But from what I can tell, she’s thriving in the role—as are the kids under her and Frank’s care.”
“A perfect illustration of what love can do.”
“Speaking of love . . .” He swung the hamper out of the way and leaned down, letting actions speak louder than words.
As always,