Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,12

he hadn’t missed Sara’s quick sign of the cross when she admitted that lying to her mom in the first place is what had gotten her into this mess. If her parents were anything like his, instilling their faith in their kids from the cradle, Sara had to know this charade would blow up sooner or later. With no good to come of it.

Then again, shared faith or not, her mom and dad seemed different from his. Luis couldn’t remember a time his parents had ever made him feel less than or lacking. In any way.

The fact that hers did was pretty messed up. It made her bid for an ally this week even more irresistible.

“Oh, I could get used to this view. It’s so beautiful.”

The awe in Sara’s words mimicked her wide-eyed expression. She leaned forward to peer out the front windshield at Smathers Beach on their left. Luis pressed back against his seat so she could look out his window, too.

A few food trucks and water sports equipment rental vendors lined the road and sidewalk along the public beach. Tall palm trees held watch over the creamy sandy shore and patchwork color of towels, chairs, and blankets. Swimmers dotted the shimmering water. Some splashed out by the sandbar while others floated on tubes and rafts soaking up the sun’s rays. Along the water’s edge, a few couples strolled hand in hand.

“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