Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,99
her offer. “You don’t have to do that. You’re on vacation.”
“I know I don’t have to; I want to. She’s got a lot of drive and energy. Important traits in this business. Her website and Insta accounts are pretty good. She could use a little tweaking with her branding. Some help networking within her target markets. Maybe—”
“How do you know all that?” Luis interrupted.
“I looked her up this afternoon. I’m serious; if I can offer some guidance, I’d like to.”
Releasing the steering wheel, he grasped her hand where it rested between their seats. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. Warmth spread down her arm, oozing across her chest to wrap around her heart.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
Sara hitched a shoulder, secretly pleased by his praise. “I try.”
He winked, and she found herself grinning back at him like a lovesick fool.
They reached another key and soon passed a military base. The truck continued traveling north on an overpass, but her gaze followed the exit road heading toward a black and white structure, its support beams and a small guardroom straddling the roads in and out of the base. The words U.S. Naval Air Station Key West were emblazoned across the front.
Silently, she stared at the dense vegetation outside her window. Palm trees and flowering bushes peppered the land. Thick mangroves with their green leaves and twisting brown roots filled the areas where land and ocean water met.
Too soon they neared a green and white road sign indicating “Big Coppitt Key.”
Luis laid their joined hands on his jeans-clad thigh, his face sobering.
Sara’s heartbeat slowed. Dread reared its nefarious head to whisper destructive thoughts in her ear.
“You’re sure I’m not underdressed?” She smoothed a palm down the skirt of her Lilly Pulitzer floral print swing dress. The navy and multi-blue-hued patterned material was a new favorite, the dress a gift from a recent photo shoot. But the halter neck and cutaway shoulders weren’t exactly meet-the-parents conservative. She’d grabbed a thin cover-up sweater just in case.
“You look beautiful.” Luis squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I wasn’t kidding; our familia dinner is the opposite of formal. Carlos’s kids often show up in their baseball clothes after practice.”
“Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself.”
Her gaze slid from his deep green polo to his dark jeans and tan court sneakers. Pretty good didn’t nearly begin to describe him. In almost anything he wore . . . and didn’t wear . . . Luis Navarro was the epitome of hot. With a capital H.
The flash of the blinker on his truck’s instrument panel had her breath hitching.
Luis shot her a you-okay frown as he slowed the vehicle, waiting for a break in the southbound traffic so he could make the left turn.
“Same stick close to the truth game plan,” he reminded her. “We recently met here. Struck up a friendship, and I’m simply playing tour guide for the week.” He patted her hand on his thigh, then released her to maneuver the steering wheel as he pulled onto Diamond Drive.
The street was lined with a hodgepodge of older houses low to the ground and new ones up high, built after regulations stipulated homes be raised to prevent flooding during hurricane season. Palm, poinciana, and other flowering trees she couldn’t name provided shade. Bicycles and boats decorated several yards, and she caught sight of the canal that ran behind the homes on each side of the road, allowing them easy access to the ocean at the end of each street.
A mixture of stately two-story stucco beauties and smaller, more modest homes, the neighborhood spoke of the varying demographics of Keys dwellers. Those who had lived here for generations, hardworking and determined to stay despite the rising cost of living, and snowbirds from up north who retired and made the long-awaited move to the warmer climate.
“We’ll be fine,” Luis said as his truck slow-poked down the road. “At least neither one of us is pretending to be someone different. That makes it easier. And divert the conversation if needed.”
She nodded, repeating the simple instructions to herself with each breath in and out. Stick with the truth. Divert. Stick with the truth. Divert. Stick with the truth. Divert.
“And when my mami asks about our wedding date you—”
“Wait! What?!”
She slapped a hand to her chest afraid her heart might jump out onto the dashboard it pounded so hard. Marriage questions? His mother would freak if she found out that Sara and her son’s relationship