Promise Cove (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 1) (127 page)

“
N
o
,
I
’
m
not.
A
nd
it
’
s
b
e
st
if
y
ou
remember
that.
A
nd
I
’ve
never
been
patient
w
ith
a
n
y
one,
e
ve
r
.
”

“T
hen m
a
ybe
I
’
m not just a
ny
on
e
.
”

On the drive
into town, Jordan sat in the passenger seat playing tour guide, pointing out various sights along the Coast Highway, at one point, showing him where a field full of wild strawberries grew in abundance. “We’ll be able to pick strawberries there in a couple of months. And they call that point over there, Smuggler’s Point, which used to be the name of the town back in the 1800s because it was originally founded by smugglers who used that area to unload their bounty, rendezvous, and sell their goods.”

“You’re just full of useful information.”

“
U
s
el
e
s
s
,
you
mea
n
.
A
nd
do
n
’
t
think
I
do
n
’
t
k
now
y
ou
’
re
ma
k
ing
f
un
o
f
me.
B
ut
P
e
lica
n
P
o
inte
do
es
n
’
t
exa
c
tly of
f
er
a
wealth
o
f
cool
plac
e
s
to
v
i
s
i
t
.
I
’
m
d
o
ing
m
y
b
e
st
to pl
a
y
con
c
ierge
w
ith
what
limited
p
o
in
t
s
o
f
inter
e
st
I
h
a
v
e
at
m
y
d
i
sp
o
sal
.
”

“
I
find
it
odd
that
the
t
own
w
as
founded
by
smuggle
r
s.
H
ow
do
the
sno
ot
y
t
ownspeople
handle
that?”

“
T
he
y
i
g
nor
e
i
t
.
”
S
h
e
sh
o
t
hi
m
a
k
n
o
w
i
n
g
s
m
i
l
e
befor
e
sugg
e
sti
n
g
,
“
O
nc
e
w
e
ge
t
ther
e
m
a
yb
e
w
e
should
spli
t
u
p.
Y
o
u
k
n
o
w
,
y
o
u
t
ak
e
t
h
e
do
g
t
o
th
e
ve
t
an
d
I
’
l
l
go
t
o
F
er
g
u
s
o
n
’
s
,
an
d
the
n
s
w
i
n
g
b
y
M
u
r
p
h
y
’
s
,
p
ic
k
u
p
s
ome
m
i
l
k
an
d
eg
g
s
.
”

H
e
k
new
what
she
w
as
doi
n
g
.
“
Y
ou
do
n
’t
w
ant
t
o
be
s
een in
t
own
t
ogethe
r
.
T
h
at
might
jump
s
t
a
r
t
the
r
umor
mill
.
”

H
e
r
j
a
w
dropped
.
“
I
s
tha
t
wha
t
y
o
u
think
?
N
ot
a
t
a
l
l
,
I
w
as
n
’
t
…
”
S
he
looked
over
at
him
and
t
w
i
s
t
ed
up
her
mouth.
“
Ma
ybe
a
littl
e
”
S
he
threw
back
her
shoulde
r
s.
“
I
do
n
’t
care
wha
t
th
e
t
own
thin
k
s
.
”

“T
h
at
a
g
irl.
I
think
we
should
s
t
a
y
t
ogethe
r
,
show
them we
do
n
’t
g
ive
a
ha
n
g
what
they
think
of
either
of
us.
I
f
the vet
v
is
it
r
uns
lo
n
g
,
then
w
e
’ll
t
a
lk
a
bout
getti
n
g
thi
n
gs
done
s
epar
a
t
el
y
.
H
o
w
’
s
that?”

“Sounds
like
a
p
l
an
.
”

M
inu
t
e
s
l
at
e
r
,
J
or
d
an dire
c
t
ed him
t
o a reno
v
a
t
ed
t
w
o
-s
t
o
r
y
C
rafts
m
an
-
s
t
yle
hou
s
e
that
s
e
r
ved
as
b
o
th
a
residence and
the
P
elican
P
oin
t
e
A
nimal
C
linic.
L
oca
t
ed
a
block
off
M
ain
on
C
re
s
cent
S
tree
t
,
where
hou
s
es
more
of
t
en
than
not doubled
as
both
resident
i
a
l
dwelli
n
gs
and
their
owne
r
s’
small bu
s
ine
ss
es.
The
S
ulli
v
an
hou
s
e
w
as
no
e
x
ception.
The
1940s s
t
yle
hou
s
e
wore
its
pas
t
el
-
blue
paint
job
like
a
b
r
ight
happy Eas
t
er
egg
nestled
on
a
bed
of
p
l
astic
green
gra
s
s.
T
h
e
home reflec
t
ed
the
pe
r
s
onali
t
y
of
its
owne
r
s.