Free Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

Casa Blanca as a destination wedding resort, we couldn’t believe there was anything like Mimosa Key left on Florida’s west coast. No high-rises, no restaurant chains, no real tourist traffic.”
    “You like that?” He sounded amazed. “After growing up in Los Angeles?”
    “I love that after growing up in Los Angeles. And so do the brides that are looking for a completely unique destination for their weddings, which is one of the reasons we chose to locate our business here.”
    “What were the other reasons?” he asked, resting his arm across the back of the bench, nearly around her. She had to fight the desire to curl closer.
    “Obviously, there are a lot of factors when three people make a move that big,” she said. “We were all coming from different parts of the country, and the location appealed to all of us.”
    “From different parts of the country? I’m surprised, because you seem like you’ve been friends forever.”
    “Feels that way,” she agreed, thinking about how quickly the three of them had evolved from professional colleagues to best friends. “I told you we traveled together for one solid year to visit resorts, and we clicked. And I was totally ready for friends again…”
    She realized how that sounded the minute it came out.
    “I mean, friends and a new business and a change,” she said quickly. “We bonded instantly and knew that we could be a powerhouse operation as a threesome rather than struggling individually.”
    “What do you mean you were ready for friends again?”
    Of course he was too smart to let that slip by. She attempted a casual shrug. “Oh, I mean friends that are in the same business.”
    She wasn’t going to keep letting him take her back there, damn it.
    “Don’t you ever miss Los Angeles?” he asked, and she sensed it was just another way of asking how and when and why she’d shunned her friends and family.
    She had prepared answers for those questions. She’d been asked this before. “I didn’t really live in LA, per se. I moved way out to Canyon Country years ago, and that turned out to be an inconvenient place to have a business. I was living on the freeway to meet clients and review sites. This”—she made a sweeping gesture toward the water and boats, the sweeping arc of the causeway that led to the mainland—“is like paradise compared to Southern California.”
    He didn’t answer, studying the view with a hesitation just long enough to make her think he didn’t agree.
    “Do you miss California?” she countered. She knew he’d grown up outside of San Francisco and assumed he lived up there.
    “Not how I’m living now. While I’m on this leave, I’m staying with my younger brother in Manhattan Beach, which is not conducive to writing—or sleeping or thinking—since he’s got a lot of friends and they are in and out constantly. I had an apartment down in San Diego when I first entered the SEALs, but when I was deployed the first time, I let the place go.”
    “Where would you live if you ended up leaving the SEALs?”
    He closed his eyes and very slowly shook his head. “I don’t want to even think about it, Willow.”
    “So if you’re not deployed, would you quit the service?”
    “I’m not big on quitting, really. But…I didn’t train like a beast to push papers in some building.” He gave his head a little shake, like the thought actually hurt him, but then he turned to her.
    “You must get back to LA to see your parents, right?” he asked. “Or is it New York where Misty said she sees your mother?”
    She laughed softly.
    “Why is that funny?” he asked.
    “It’s like we’re doing a perfectly choreographed dance of subjects neither one of us wants to talk about.”
    He brushed his fingers on her shoulder. “Your mother?”
    All right, she’d be honest. “I don’t talk to my mother that often.”
    “Is that by choice?” he asked.
    Her lips formed a tight smile as she nodded, her focus on a boat headed