sun, the night air was crisp and
chilly. They walked snuggled close together, arms wrapped around each other’s
waists and laughing as they bumped hips until they matched the tempo of their
strides.
Although she’d been happy living in Galveston for some time
now, Tess had never felt more profoundly alive than she did at that moment. Hers.
Daniel Friday was hers. A thrill of joy rippled over her and she shivered.
“You’re cold,” Dan said, running his hands over the goose
bumps on her arms. “And I don’t have a jacket to offer you.”
“I’m fine.”
Spotting a souvenir shop that was still open, Dan pulled her
inside and insisted on buying her something warm. “Though I hate to cover up
that lion’s eye. He’s been winking at me all afternoon.”
They laughed over the funny sayings printed on some of the
shirts and clowned around holding some of the more outrageous ones to their
shoulders to model. A few minutes later they left, attired in matching hot pink
sweatshirts with cross-eyed green frogs and LIFE’S A BEACH stamped across the
front.
“It’s you,” Tess said, standing back to admire his gaudy
choice and crossing her eyes to mimic the frog.
Dan threw back his head and laughed. Scooping her against
his side, he hugged her close. “Tess Cameron, you do strange things to my
conservative sensibilities.”
“Good.” She tucked her hand under the band of his sweatshirt
and let it rest on the warmth of his belly. “Your conservative sensibilities
need a little shaking up. They’ve given you nothing but trouble.”
Since their confrontation at noon, Dan’s behavior had made a
hundred and eighty-degree turn—well, maybe closer to a hundred degrees—and Tess
was keeping her fingers crossed that he wouldn’t revert to the foul-tempered,
straitlaced stinker she knew he could be. She liked him much better the way he
was now. She suspected that she was beginning to see the real Dan, the one who’d
been hiding away inside a carefully constructed shell. Even if he’d rather die
than admit it, she was sure that Kathy and the board had been right to toss him
out. Only his damnable male pride had been injured.
The more she was around Dan, the clearer it became that he
hated being an executive at Friday Elevators, and he probably always had. How
awful that his sense of responsibility to his family had made him endure it for
years. No wonder his misery had given him headaches and finally eaten a hole in
his stomach and his body had rebelled. He had the soul of an architect. Anybody
with half a brain could see that.
If she had anything to do with it, Tess planned to help Dan
follow his own dreams for a change.
With Tess pointing the way, they crossed the intersection
and walked a block to Water Street, toward a two-story wooden structure
extending over the dark water. From a half a block away, delicious aromas of
cooking seafood filled the air, overpowering the odors from the wharf and its
shrimp boats and fish markets. Her mouth watered.
“Doesn’t it smell wonderful?” Tess asked as they stepped
into the smoky restaurant, where a battalion of cooks and servers scampered
back and forth behind the cafeteria-type counter in a flurry of activity. “I’m
starved. What looks good to you?”
Dan studied the menu painted on a huge wooden sign at the
beginning of the line. “I want a giant platter of fried shrimp, french fries,
and about a quart of catsup.”
Tess drew her brows together in reproach. “Nothing fried for
you, my friend. Say, do you have your medication?”
“In my pocket,” Dan grumbled.
“I’ll order,” Tess informed him as they picked up trays and
slid them along the rail. “Two broiled snapper and two baked potatoes,” she
told the attendant. “Plain rolls—no garlic butter.”
“Not even a small order of french fries?” Dan asked
wistfully.
Tess pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. “Not even
one.”
Dan sighed theatrically. Tess giggled.
“You may have
chilly. They walked snuggled close together, arms wrapped around each other’s
waists and laughing as they bumped hips until they matched the tempo of their
strides.
Although she’d been happy living in Galveston for some time
now, Tess had never felt more profoundly alive than she did at that moment. Hers.
Daniel Friday was hers. A thrill of joy rippled over her and she shivered.
“You’re cold,” Dan said, running his hands over the goose
bumps on her arms. “And I don’t have a jacket to offer you.”
“I’m fine.”
Spotting a souvenir shop that was still open, Dan pulled her
inside and insisted on buying her something warm. “Though I hate to cover up
that lion’s eye. He’s been winking at me all afternoon.”
They laughed over the funny sayings printed on some of the
shirts and clowned around holding some of the more outrageous ones to their
shoulders to model. A few minutes later they left, attired in matching hot pink
sweatshirts with cross-eyed green frogs and LIFE’S A BEACH stamped across the
front.
“It’s you,” Tess said, standing back to admire his gaudy
choice and crossing her eyes to mimic the frog.
Dan threw back his head and laughed. Scooping her against
his side, he hugged her close. “Tess Cameron, you do strange things to my
conservative sensibilities.”
“Good.” She tucked her hand under the band of his sweatshirt
and let it rest on the warmth of his belly. “Your conservative sensibilities
need a little shaking up. They’ve given you nothing but trouble.”
Since their confrontation at noon, Dan’s behavior had made a
hundred and eighty-degree turn—well, maybe closer to a hundred degrees—and Tess
was keeping her fingers crossed that he wouldn’t revert to the foul-tempered,
straitlaced stinker she knew he could be. She liked him much better the way he
was now. She suspected that she was beginning to see the real Dan, the one who’d
been hiding away inside a carefully constructed shell. Even if he’d rather die
than admit it, she was sure that Kathy and the board had been right to toss him
out. Only his damnable male pride had been injured.
The more she was around Dan, the clearer it became that he
hated being an executive at Friday Elevators, and he probably always had. How
awful that his sense of responsibility to his family had made him endure it for
years. No wonder his misery had given him headaches and finally eaten a hole in
his stomach and his body had rebelled. He had the soul of an architect. Anybody
with half a brain could see that.
If she had anything to do with it, Tess planned to help Dan
follow his own dreams for a change.
With Tess pointing the way, they crossed the intersection
and walked a block to Water Street, toward a two-story wooden structure
extending over the dark water. From a half a block away, delicious aromas of
cooking seafood filled the air, overpowering the odors from the wharf and its
shrimp boats and fish markets. Her mouth watered.
“Doesn’t it smell wonderful?” Tess asked as they stepped
into the smoky restaurant, where a battalion of cooks and servers scampered
back and forth behind the cafeteria-type counter in a flurry of activity. “I’m
starved. What looks good to you?”
Dan studied the menu painted on a huge wooden sign at the
beginning of the line. “I want a giant platter of fried shrimp, french fries,
and about a quart of catsup.”
Tess drew her brows together in reproach. “Nothing fried for
you, my friend. Say, do you have your medication?”
“In my pocket,” Dan grumbled.
“I’ll order,” Tess informed him as they picked up trays and
slid them along the rail. “Two broiled snapper and two baked potatoes,” she
told the attendant. “Plain rolls—no garlic butter.”
“Not even a small order of french fries?” Dan asked
wistfully.
Tess pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. “Not even
one.”
Dan sighed theatrically. Tess giggled.
“You may have
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