Falling for You

by Travis, Stacy

  “We’re going to Stinson,” she’d whispered, and I remember muttering something about wanting to stay inside with her all day instead, or at least heading to a much closer beach to the south.

  She kissed me. “Nope, Stinson. Meet you at my place at two. I’ll bring the food. You’re in charge of towels and beach toys.”

  These were nonsensical words.

  Beach toys?

  I didn’t own beach toys, if what she meant was small plastic molds for making sand castles. In my dreamy state, I fantasized that what she really meant were sex toys we could somehow use among the ocean waves, and that kept me content enough to acquiesce. “Mmhmm… on it.”

  When she slipped quietly out the door, I drifted back to sleep, dreaming of all the things I would do to her body when I saw her again.

  Now, sitting at a coffee place in the Haight, I let my grouch flag fly. Stirring an extra packet of sugar into my coffee, I glared at the steam coming off the top which made it too hot to drink. Then I glared at my phone, which had zero texts from Isla telling me we could forget about her beach plan and go with my plan.

  Fine, I didn’t have a plan.

  Yet.

  But I planned to have a plan. Jesus, I needed one. I was a wreck, and I had been for weeks. That’s what meaning to propose and not actually doing it will do to a person. I didn’t want to spend six hours at the beach if it meant delaying my marriage proposal for yet another day.

  I had to grow a pair and do it, finally.

  Shoving my hand deep into the pocket of my khaki shorts, I felt for the familiar velvet-covered cube that had taken up residence in one pocket or another every day for the past month.

  I’d been carrying around the two-carat, emerald cut engagement ring, trying to suss out the ideal time and place for a picture-perfect proposal that would give us an epic romantic story to tell our grandchildren.

  I was being ridiculous, waiting for a moment that had yet to arrive, and talking myself out of the moments that already had because they didn’t feel proposal-worthy.

  After chickening out in Calistoga, where a sunset over the vineyards was only the first of several missed opportunities, we’d taken bikes down pastoral lanes flanked by grape arbors, tomato vines, and hedgerows of lavender.

  We’d snuck onto the vineyard property next to the hotel and taken a midnight swim in a lake with swans. We’d had perfect moments, and I hadn’t taken advantage of a single one.

  Are you afraid she’ll say no?

  Pushing that thought aside because it certainly wasn’t going to help matters, I decided to stop fucking around.

  I’d get the words out somehow, some way, and it had to be this weekend. My overthinking brain had to get out of the way, and I’d just…propose.

  The problem wasn’t just where we were going, though that was certainly part of it. Beaches sounded great in theory, but in reality, sand was annoying and I knew I’d get a little carsick on the drive up Pacific Coast Highway. But Isla had invited her sister, Sarah, to join us.

  It made no sense.

  I knew Isla felt grateful to Sarah for handling the finances of Victorine’s expansion into my wine country properties, but I couldn’t imagine why she’d invite her along on our date.

  I’d never mess with Isla’s family bonds, especially after she’d done so much to help me reconnect with my own sister. Jen had become a regular fixture in our lives, and we had weekly Skypes where I talked to my new niece—not that she likely understood my explanations of what happened that week in the stock market or whatever else I decided to tell her.

  Thanks to Isla, Jen and I had settled back into a sibling relationship that defied the years we’d spent apart. I owed her, and it seemed the repayment came in the form of Sarah coming on our date.

  I fired off a text.

  Me: G’morning, woman whom I adore.

  Isla responded right away. She’d asked Becca to sew a tiny phone pocket into the aprons she wore while she was baking so we never missed a chance to connect.

  It didn’t make up for the pre-dawn departures, but it was something.

  Isla: Good morning, man who uses perfect grammar. How’d you sleep?

  Me: Horribly once you left. You have to stop doing that.

  Isla: Doing what?

  Me: Leaving.

  Isla: Lol. I’ll look into self-rising dough, but the bread will suffer.

  Me: Blasphemy. Don’t hurt the bread. Question: are we committed to this beach thing with your sister?

  Isla: Oh yes. No way you’re squirming out of our plans.

  Me: But whyyyyy?

  Isla: Because you love me and I want to go to the beach.

  Me: I do love you. So… 3 of us at the beach.

  After a few more exchanges of emojis and her promises to let me have my way with her as payback for an hour on winding roads and sand in our shoes for days, I gave in.

  The only problem, however, was where to find the aforementioned beach toys, assuming I hadn’t just dreamed up the conversation. Maybe I was supposed to bring beach chairs. Made much more sense.

  I texted again.

  Me: Were you serious about beach toys?

  Isla: Yes. Buckets, shovels, sand sifters

  I shook my head, a smile creeping over my face. My grumpy mood had no chance against her. If she wanted to build sandcastles all afternoon, I’d be her water boy, no questions asked.

  Me: Don’t forget the bread.

  Isla: Forget? It’s like you don’t even know me.

  Me: Oh, I know you. But I’m ever willing to get to know you in new ways.

  Isla: Good to hear. I have a new recipe I want to try.

  Me: I’ll be here, waiting for anything you want to put in my mouth.

  Isla: Why do I think we’re no longer talking about bread?

  Me: Were we ever?

  A couple hours later, as my car idled on Steiner Street, Isla flung the door open and beamed down at me from the doorway. “You’re here! I’m so excited for our date.” She bounded down the stairs and flew into my arms.

  I’d never get tired of hearing her refer to the time we spent together as dating—those days in the friend zone had left their mark. “And yet, you invited your sister to come on our date.”

  She laughed. “Well, only for the beach part. Our date will continue later without her. She’s driving separately.”

  Her excitement was contagious and her promises of later were enough to make me agreeable. How was she supposed to know the ring was burning a hole in my pocket?

  If I were a better man—or a more organized one—I’d have proposed weeks ago.

  Sarah came out of the house and tilted her head to the side, studying us. Then she pulled down the neckline of her shirt to reveal the purple strap of a bikini top.

  “Okay, comrades. I need to get some sun on this pale academic body. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Sarah carried beach chairs down the steps toward her own car, and I waited for Isla to lock her door. When she turned around, she dropped the oversized cotton tote filled with food at her feet and reached around my neck.

  Her lips were soft and sweet as they grazed mine. I pulled her face closer at an angle that let me claim her mouth the way I wanted.

  There was no end to my appetite for her, and even though I didn’t say it, my eyes pleaded with her once more to abort mission and let me follow her back inside to her bedroom. I felt certain Sarah would understand.

  She shook her head. “We should get going.”

  “If you say so,” I said, wrapping my arms tighter around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She stood on a step above mine, making us the same height. I lifted her up and brought her down to my step, then leaned my forehead against hers. “Better.”

  “You always have to have an advantage, don’t you?” Her tone was playful.

  “I like the appearance of an advantage. I happen to know there’s no one-upping you and I wouldn’t even try.”

  She smiled and l
ed me down the steps.

  * * *

  Isla

  I had a good reason for inviting Sarah along on our beach date. Owen had been walking around with a ring in his pocket for weeks, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn’t find the perfect place for us to get engaged.

  Of course I knew.

  It didn’t help that more than a few nights when he pulled me against him I felt something hard that most definitely wasn’t his throbbing manhood.

  So I tried to come up with a way to make things easier for him. Easier, that is, once he got over the queasiness from the drive and gave into a beach day with my sister as the third wheel.

  It only took two glasses of wine and the unimpeachable beauty of the California coastline, but eventually he loosened up.

  “This was a good idea. How’d you find this place?” he asked, reclining on a towel under a rainbow umbrella we’d planted in the sand.

  “I know people.”

  “She knows people,” he said, rolling his eyes at Sarah, who shrugged.

  The area was beautiful, a private beach in front of a cottage that belonged to a friend’s parents. The property had been in the family for generations and sadly didn’t get much use anymore. I’d proposed buying the place with Finn and we were working out the details.

  “Never question Isla when she has her mind set on a plan,” Sarah said.

  He nodded, pulling me toward him so my head was resting on his chest. “I’m learning. In fact, I’ve given in.”

  For hours, we did a lot of nothing and I could tell Owen was happy. We watched a few dolphin pods migrating in the distant surf while the sun tilted lower until its golden rays stretched out over the water.

  As the tide crept in, the waves ate at the mammoth sand castle the three of us had built earlier. Sarah encouraged us to go off on a walk alone and promised to start working on dinner.

  “That’s a lovely offer, and I’m going to take full advantage,” Owen said, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together. We walked north on the beach past other homes in the next cove.

  “Do you want your feet in the water or do you like the dry sand?” I asked him.

  “Doesn’t matter. I like you.”

  “I like you too. I love you.” I stopped walking and reached around his waist, stepping close. He pulled me closer and took my face in his hands. The love in his eyes told me everything his lack of a proposal couldn’t. The way he looked at me—the way he always looked at me, as if he was in awe—was something I’d never take for granted.

  This was the kind of love I’d never dreamed existed in the years before I met him. I barely believed it now without having to pinch myself daily. Owen’s lips covered mine in a deep kiss that was matched by everything I felt.

  We walked and talked and kissed and walked some more until the sun had dipped below the horizon, and I knew we’d been gone for at least an hour.

  When we were almost back at our tiny cove, I led Owen up a set of steps to the bluff so we could grab a couple blankets from the car. “You cold?” he asked, pulling me tighter against his chest and leaning down to kiss me softly.

  “A little. And I want to eat dinner outside, so I’m preparing.”

  “I didn’t even ask what you packed in that bag. What are we eating?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Not telling. But I think you’ll like it.”

  Owen grabbed the blankets from me under one arm and held onto my hand as we walked back through the house and onto the bluff overlooking the beach. I stood back while he glanced down at the sand.

  When he turned back toward me, I snapped a picture of him with my phone, wanting to remember the look on his face forever—a look of amazement, puzzlement, gratitude.

  But more than that, he looked stunned…then besotted.

  I joined him and leaned down to admire Sarah’s work. It was perfect, exactly how I’d envisioned.

  On the wet sand, Sarah had traced an enormous heart with our names inside. She’d outlined it with tiny votive candles and strung a series of twinkle lights from four tall posts she’d hammered into the sand. A wine bucket chilled champagne and a separate table held a bread, cheese, and charcuterie display worthy of a Pinterest board.

  She’d set up the table for two with a silk table cloth, high-backed chairs, and more flickering candles. She’d left our plated dinners under silver covers.

  And now she was already headed back to the city, leaving us to spend the night alone in the cottage.

  Wrapping my hands around the back of Owen’s neck, I let my fingers brush through his hair while I whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll say yes.”

  He leaned away and his glistening ocean blue eyes met mine. “You knew…?” Then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad. I…needed to get my head out of my ass and stop waiting for the perfect moment, and here you created an even more perfect moment than I ever could have imagined.”

  I could feel the grin spread across my face. “I’m happy you like it.”

  When I’d dreamed up the idea of coming to the beach and having Sarah set up what I kept calling our “proposal landscape,” I imagined Owen picking an opportune moment during or after dinner, among the tealights with the ocean lapping behind us. But he was caught up in the moment—finally.

  With shaky hands, he reached for me, dropping to a knee and looking into my eyes.

  He shook his head. “I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to create a moment we could tell our grandchildren about…and now I realize that it’s not about the venue or the romantic lighting…it’s not about me creating the perfect moment because all our moments are perfect. I want everything with you. You had my heart from the moment you said you loved that I was a bellhop. My heart is yours. I’m yours. Will you marry me, Isla Finley?”

  I blinked back the tears but it was no use. They spilled forth at his words and the love I saw in his face.

  I nodded, feeling choked up but knowing I needed to give him a verbal response. “Yes, I will. I want you forever.”

  He kissed me, holding me like he’d never let me go.

  And I knew he never would.

  THE END

  * * *

  Want a peek at Isla and Owen’s happily ever after? Sign up for my mailing list and get an exclusive Falling for You BONUS SCENE, plus monthly news about new releases, a free book from one of my fantastic author friends, and literary drink and snack recipes you will love.

  Thank you so much for reading Isla and Owen’s story! I loved writing this one and I really hope you enjoyed reading it. I’d love to see you in my Facebook reader group, Stacy’s Saucy Sisters, so come join the fun: Hi, Sister!

  Up next is Sarah and Braden’s story, which will be released in August. And ICYMI, Finn and Annie have their own book? In Trouble with Him is their story and it’s available HERE.

  AND…you can read on for a Sneak Peek at The Summer of Him, Book 1 in the Summer Heat Duet!

  Acknowledgments

  Readers, thank you. I’m grateful for every word you read, every kind review, every thoughtful click and like and comment. Love you all.

  Jay, Jesse and Oliver: You’ve put up with me working at all hours and leaving my shoes everywhere — thank you for forgiving it all and loving me anyway. Big love to you three giant men with the best hair ever.

  To my beta readers, editors, proofers, givers of feedback, and supporters—Amy V., Amy D., Kristina Z., and Nancy S. - thank you for making the words sound better.

  And enormous thanks to the SOS crew — a group that expands with every book — no matter when I send a desperate text or email, you respond and talk me off the ledge: Adriana L., Christine D.R., Dylan A., and Melanie H. I’d be a pile of unpublished mush without you.

  Shannon, this cover is gorgeous - thank you, thank you. Thank you Jenn and the Social Butterfly team for expert advice, brilliant execution, and other superpowers. Hilary and Shan, I’m happy to have you in my corner - you make the PR part a breeze.

&
nbsp; Bloggers and bookstagrammers—thank you for embracing my books and exposing my writing to readers. I couldn’t Glad to have you in my village.

  And to my fellow authors: as always, I am honored to type among you.

  About the Author

  Stacy Travis writes sexy, charming romance about grown-up nerd girls and the hot alphas who fall for them. Writing contemporary romance makes her infinitely happy, but that might be the coffee talking. She drinks a LOT of it.

  When she's not on a deadline, she's in running shoes complaining that all roads seem to go uphill. Or on the couch with a margarita. Or fangirling at a soccer game. She's never met a dog she didn't want to hug. And if you have no plans for Thanksgiving, she'll probably invite you to dinner. Stacy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two sons, and a poorly-trained rescue dog who hoards socks.

  Facebook reader group: Stacy’s Saucy Sisters

  Super fun newsletter: Only the good stuff

  Website: https://www.www.stacytravis.com

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/stacytravis

  Email: stacytraviswrites@gmail.com - tell me what you’re reading!

  Also by Stacy Travis

  The Summer Heat Duet

  The Summer of Him: A Celebrity Romance

  Forever with Him: An Opposites Attract Contemporary Romance

  In Trouble with Him: A Forbidden Love Contemporary Romance (Finn and Annie’s story)

  The Berkeley Hills Series - all are standalone novels

  Second Chance at Us: A Second Chance Romance (Book 1 - Becca and Blake’s story)