Chapter Eighteen
Bobbi Jo
“So this is it—the East Coast.” I stared out at the battleship gray water with small white peaks that floated on top. “I always thought the Atlantic Ocean was a bit more—well, majestic.”
“This is just a bay,” some man said who came up behind Cash and me as we stood on the dock just outside the restaurant. “Believe me—the Atlantic is a sight to behold.”
“I’m sure it is,” Cash said. “Come on, Bobbi Jo. Let’s head inside to get something to eat.”
By the way he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, I thought he might have been embarrassed by what I’d said. “It’s just that I went to the gulf coast once when I was younger, and that water was gorgeous. Like emerald green, clear, and the sand was this really clean light beige color. Now that was pretty.” I held
