Page 143 of Doyle

She walked away.

What—?Tia turned?—

And there he was.

“Doyle?”

He wore a jean jacket, an oxford shirt, and...a tie?He’d shaved, his hair shorter than on the island yet still windblown, and wore a pair of aviator sunglasses that he took off and set on the table. Tanned, strong, those blue eyes on her and...

And if she’d ever wondered if she loved him... Her heart just exploded, right there, a mess of unruly, clumsy, inconvenient emotions.

Her true and perfect love.

She got up. And... managed to spill her gooey cookie plate right down the leg of her white linen pants.

“Oh no!”

He grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t. move.”

He bent down—oh boy,he smelled good, the kind of good that spoke of hot summer air and stirred up memories of his hand in her hair, his kiss on her skin?—

“Okay, I think I got this. Very carefully, step away from the cookie.”

He’d taken a knife and a napkin and plopped the cookie back onto the plate. Then he held the hem of her pants and lifted the melted chocolate away.

“I think it’s going to pull through.” He set the plate on the table.

“The cookie?”

“Oh, no.” He made a face. “I think that’s done for. I was thinking of the pants. Unless you want to go No Pants to the presentation.”

And just like that, the memory rose of her walking through Esperanza without pants. She started to laugh.

He grinned. “I’m thinking that isn’t a bad idea. You do have excellent legs.”

“Stop. I’m wearing pants.” She leaned down and rolled up the cuffs. “I think I’ll just have to improvise.”

“Attagirl,” he said.

And then silence dropped between them.

“How are?—”

“Me first.” He sighed. Nodded. Swallowed, then, “You were right, Tia. I did lose myself. And I was searching. And I thought you could fill that empty place. Instead, you helped me find myself again. Helped me see the man I thought I’d lost.”

“That’s great, Doyle.”

He drew in a breath. “Tia, being with you showed me that I can trust God again. That there’s more out there... for me.” He swallowed. “For us.”

Us?

Oh, Doyle?—

She picked up her satchel. “I gotta go. I’m giving a presentation in about”—she checked her watch—“twenty minutes. It was nice to see?—”

“I know about the presentation. Declan called me.”

A beat.

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