Page 314 of The Romance Adventure

My father gave me away with Luke in his arms.

Brando personalized our vows.

And everyone celebrated Ryan’s and my love for each other.

I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect day. I know we’ll have many calm seasons and face some storms, but we’ll weather them together.

As the last of the sun vanishes and the moon rises, Ryan says, “Remember when we were talking about our rules for the game and I mentioned buried love? Whether or not we find the crown, the real treasure is this.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” My lips twist with a smile. “But you still owe me an ice cream.”

“I love you, too, Nugget.”

We both laugh because we’ll probably always have our own way of communicating.

Ryan says, “I owe you a lifetime’s supply, and funny thing, we happen to own an ice cream shop.”

“I love you, Hot Shot.” I snuggle in close, breathing my husband’s fresh cotton scent, breathing deep because we both found the treasure—each other.

Epilogue

One thing I’ve learned about being part of the McGregor crew is that they like to celebrate. In the span of one week, Ryan and I got married, the Plundering Pelican opened, where we hosted our wedding reception, and we partied it up at the Driftwood after Ryan told his brothers we had the last stone to the crown.

Apparently, up until then, he’d merely said we’d had a major breakthrough with the treasure hunt, but would only tell them if they helped him plan our wedding day in a single night.

Today, Luke turns one and Ryan insisted on a bounce house in the yard, a blowup slide that goes in the shallows by the shore, and a pirate ship fun house.

I’m afraid Luke’s face is going to freeze into a permanent smile. The kid is just so happy.

And so am I, because not only does it look like we bought out the entirety of a party décor store, but when I drove through town this morning, I noticed the pink plastic flamingos have the Sip & Scoop surrounded.

Yes, love is in the air and it’s not leaving Coco Key any time soon.

Thankfully, there are a few delays getting the Sip & Scoop open again. I’m relieved because I need time to perfect Aunt Martina’s cookie recipe and catch up on my sleep after all this fun we’ve been having.

Also, Ryan and I have been house hunting and treasure hunting, though there is still one piece of the map missing. When the other three are put together, it seems to be the most important one. Actually, no one can make sense of it because nothing is orienting the blobby shapes we assume are islands.

It’s nearly the end of summer by the time we’re ready to open the doors and windows to the Sip & Scoop—in the redesign, we created an order window and a pick-up window. Inside, the ice cream cookie sandwich bar is loaded, except for the cookies. I keep praying that I can make them exactly like my aunt did, but I’m afraid something is missing. I’m just not sure what. A dash of cocoa? Aunt Martina was a firm believer that everything was better with chocolate. I’ll have to try that.

I hang up some banners and balloons in town on the morning of our grand opening. For many places, this would signal the end of tourist season, but not down here. People will flood the Keys looking for a winter escape and ice cream for the next eight months, at least.

Then summer will be ours again.

Just as I tie the last balloon on the folding sign in the center of town, a black sedan stops a little too close to me for my comfort. I recall the story of Isla being kidnapped and take one giant step back, not caring if the people inside the vehicle are offended. They’ll be more than insulted if they abduct me—and it’s not just because I’m still sassy and bratty from time to time—they’d have four very angry McGregors on their hands, plus a football team, as well as part of the US military, to worry about.

Ryan’s buddies from the Riptide came down for our wedding reception and some booked stays at the Driftwood for off-season R&R. Boos Battle Bros is loaded with guys looking for bonding time with K9s and other vets.

I’m not too sure about CJ, but I have a feeling he knows some people in low places. Just saying.

The passenger side window of the black sedan lowers slowly, revealing Gerome Glandman. He’s as balding, portly, and pasty as ever. I dislike him only because he didn’t have a sense of humor the time Ryan, Royal, and I spray painted the sandcastles he had constructed to wow his guests. The thing was, he wasn’t letting anyone on the beach in case they got ruined.

We didn’t damage them in any way. I thought of it as a color enhancement, of the neon variety.

“You’re that Owens girl, who won the Miss Manatee crown one year, right?” he asks.

My hackles lift. “Mrs. McGregor now.”

“I suggest you be careful of the company you keep. I’d hate to see anything happen.”