Tequila Rose (Tequila Rose #1) - Willow Winters Page 0,34

me back home and he tried to kiss me goodnight on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.”

“What a gentleman,” Renee says and I can hear her eye roll in the comment. He’s trying, I think to myself.

“He really thinks I freaked because I’m ashamed we had a one-night stand years ago.” I laugh at the ridiculousness.

Silence from Renee and a squeal of delight along with the clatter of falling blocks from Bridget. “He invited me to go sailing with him. Technically he invited both of us. I could tell him then.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll watch Bridget while you’re out, I don’t want to get in between that.” I almost bring up Griffin, but she continues before I can say another word. “If you feel like it’s right, you can tell him you have a daughter. See how he reacts to that.”

“That sounds like a white lie, Renee.” The scolding is evident in my tone and Bridget glances up at me. I plaster on a wide smile and reach down, letting my sleep shirt ride up so I can snag a stray block and toss it onto her pile.

“I’m going on this date and I’m going to tell him.”

“Okay, okay,” Renee says, giving up the fight. “Tell him. But wait until you’re back on land to tell him. Just in case he really is a serial killer ... a rather handsome and seemingly sweet serial killer who makes cute babies.”

Brody

“I wish your grandfather taught me how to do that,” Griffin calls out and his voice is almost lost in the salty breeze as I tie the rope.

He’s already one beer deep, lying back on the deck chair and soaking up the sun. Not that I’m not getting sun myself. It’s too hot for my shirt so I’m only in my board shorts as I get the rig ready to set sail.

“Yeah right. Like you’d be helping and not doing exactly what you’re doing now.” My joking response gets a laugh from him. Being out here this early has reminded me of one thing: I love sailing; I love this boat too. If Sam is serious about selling it, I may buy it from him.

My grandfather would have loved it. When he passed four years ago, I thought he might leave me his boat. He did, but he left a lot more than just that.

I had all the money a twentysomething could need to start up whatever company I wanted or sail around the world for a year traveling. That didn’t do a damn thing to help me get over it, though.

His passing was sudden and unexpected. It’s something I may have come to terms with now, but I’ll never “get over it.”

I kept his handwritten note to me from the will in my pocket for years and barely touched the money. It took me a while to get back on a boat again, but I couldn’t bring myself to sail it. It’s his and he’s the one who should be sailing it. Maybe I’ll bring it down here. So many maybes are sounding off in my head recently.

“Any update on the permits?” I ask Griffin as I step down from the deck to meet him for a beer.

“Not yet.” His answer is accompanied with the pop of a bottle cap and then it clinks, the thin metal hitting a bucket to the left of Griffin’s cooler. Two meetings now have been canceled and pushed back. We just need the meeting to actually happen. Politics are frustrating the hell out of me.

“All right,” I say and it’s all I can answer, not knowing how long these things usually take. It’s the weekend, and I’m certain there isn’t a bureaucrat willing to work on the weekend when they could be out on the water. Although for a new bar and a decent beer you would think they might sign a paper or two. A huff of a laugh leaves me. “We’ll get it soon enough.”

Taking a sip, I look out to the horizon, trying to ignore the anxiousness of getting the bar up and running. I can already see Magnolia walking through the front doors, her blue eyes widening as she takes in the place.

With an asymmetric smile curling up my lips, I nod again at Griffin when he agrees, “Soon. It’ll all go through soon.”

My gaze follows the shades of pink that blend seamlessly into the early morning horizon. It’s time to set sail, as my grandfather would say. I