Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Kit Cortez. Your motel is amazing.”
She beamed with pride. “Thank you! It’s been a labor of love. My wife and I always talked about running a place like this, and eight years ago we decided to leave corporate America and make that dream a reality.”
“That’s really cool. I love the décor.”
“All the rooms have a different theme. In yours, we were going for a 1970s Dating Game vibe.”
Jan seemed delighted when I told her, “That’s exactly what it reminded me of.”
We talked about design for a couple of minutes, until another woman carrying a pitcher of iced tea joined us. She wore a T-shirt which read “Nobody Knows I’m a Lesbian” in huge letters, and her dark hair was gathered into a long braid down her back.
After Jan introduced me to her wife, Janice exclaimed, “I’m thrilled to meet you! Devon seemed so lonely when he was here before, and we hoped he’d find himself a boyfriend. Now here you are!”
“Now, we don’t actually know they’re a couple,” Jan reminded her. “Devon did reserve a room with two beds.”
Janice shot her wife a look. “Maybe Devon just happens to like that room. The fact that it has two beds doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” She turned back to me and said, “You two are dating, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t begin to explain our relationship, so I left it at, “It’s complicated.”
Jan intervened on my behalf. “Stop questioning the boy, Janice. You should go check the oven, before your cookies go up in flames.”
She hurried away, muttering, “Shoot, I forgot about them.”
“Sorry about that,” Jan said. “She’s endlessly curious about everyone she meets, which is a nice way of saying she’s nosy. But she means well.”
Devon joined us a few minutes later, just as Janice returned with a rolling cart loaded with dishes. The four of us sat down to a delicious lunch of minestrone soup and thick, pillowy focaccia bread, followed by coffee and slightly burnt oatmeal raisin cookies.
While we ate, Devon entertained us with stories of his travels. He also asked the couple a lot of questions about their lives and the motel, and he seemed genuinely interested in their answers.
At one point, it occurred to me that I might be reading too much in with Devon and me. He was incredibly friendly and outgoing, treating everyone like a dear friend. From my perspective, it felt like we had a special bond. But maybe everyone who met him thought the same thing.
After lunch, Jan asked what we had planned for the rest of the day, and Devon said, “I thought I’d show Kit the cove. Then maybe we’ll head into town this evening for dinner. But it all depends on what he wants to do.”
Three sets of eyes turned to me, and I mumbled, “I’m down for whatever.”
“The cove it is, then.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but he seemed excited.
Our wonderful hosts brought us a large, mesh tote bag packed with a pair of beach towels, a picnic blanket, and a couple of water bottles, and Devon thanked them and slung it over his shoulder. Then he took my hand and said, “I think you’re going to like this.” When I glanced at the two women, they looked delighted, possibly because we were holding hands.
Devon led me out the back of the motel and down a dirt path, which wound through a grove of manzanita trees. “Jan and Janice are really nice, and they obviously adore you,” I said.
“They’re the best.”
“They mentioned you seemed lonely when you were here before, which was surprising. You’ve never seemed that way to me.”
“That’s because I stopped being lonely when I met you,” he said with a smile.
“But you talk to people and make friends wherever you go.”
“That’s not the same as having one special person I care about, who’s along to share in the adventure.”
I mulled that over for a while, until the trees gave way to a rocky cliff face and a panoramic ocean view. “The cove is right down there,” Devon said, gesturing at some worn wooden stairs that meandered down the slope to a small beach.
“Are those stairs safe? They look ancient.”
“They’re built into the hillside, so I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. They’ve probably been here for eighty years, and I bet they’ll be here for eighty more.”
I had a feeling that if I wasn’t there, Devon would have fearlessly bounded down the stairs two at a time. Instead, he humored me and held my hand while I took one cautious step at a time. The wooden beams did feel pretty solid, but they were extremely uneven. If I tripped and fell, I was pretty sure I’d roll all the way to the bottom. Getting airlifted to a hospital definitely wasn’t the way I wanted to start our trip.