Once Lela and Trevor stepped off the ferry and onto the gravelly path of Nantucket Harbor time was the last thing on their minds. There were no classes to get to, due dates that grabbed their attention, or shifts at work that needed to be covered.

The sun hung high as Trevor led them through the cobblestone street. She wanted to hitch a ride from one of the cars waiting for customers at the harbor but he insisted that the house was close. Twenty-plus minutes later, Lela realized that she and Trevor had very different meanings of the word close.

As they marched through Nantucket Town, he informed the Cape Cod vacationer on the island's whaling history. He pointed out which dish was best at each restaurant—which at this point Lela would gladly settle for a biscuit since the sugary bowl of Pops she downed before their flight was now gone.

The salty breeze that blew in from the coast kept her forehead sweat-free as they hiked Cliff Road. She fussed and grumbled with the girth of her duffle bag until he took it from her and hitched it on his other shoulder not missing a beat as he told her about the time he spent the night in Brant Point Lighthouse when he was eight. At the end of his story, she could see the childish glee painted on his ecru face.

His feet stopped at an unmarked road and he leaned toward her ear to whisper, "Are you ready to escape with me?"

"Boy..." Lela breathed out as she playfully pushed him away. "This better lead to your house or..."

"Or what?" He teased strolling down the dirt road littered with pebbles.

Lela squinted at him with mock anger and uttered the only phrase that came to mind, "Shut up."

A canopy of lush greenery outlined the road that was her definition of close then gave away to a palatial cedar-shingled estate with a circular drive. A symphony of crashing waves could be heard in the distance as Trevor held the front door open for her.

"Make yourself at home," Trevor told as he wrenched her duffle from her hand. He climbed up the stairs that were just a few steps from the foyer.

Blue tones were paired well with the white walls and oak furniture throughout the house that radiated with streams of sunlight. Lela unlaced her sneakers and pulled her sock-covered feet out not wanting to scuff up the polished hardwood floors that appeared to be the same tone as the sand on the beach.

She held her breath as she stalked through the living room with an abundance of windows. The picture-covered mantle caught her attention. Silver frames housed photographs that outline Trevor's childhood—from missing teeth to messy hands at a clambake. His early years brought a pang to her most vital organ as she wondered if her parents still kept her childhood photos hanging up and out for all to see.

"So...what do you want to do?" Trevor inquired as he stood in the entryway.

Lela let her hand slip from the mantle as she looked at him with glassy eyes, "This is your stomping grounds...you tell me."

Trevor's face contoured with worry as he took easy steps toward her, "What's wrong?" He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing." Lela lied, quickly moving away from him before he could tell. She stopped in front of the patio doors catching a glimpse of Dionis Beach before she twirled back around to him—standing with his hands in his pockets peering at her. "I think we should start with food..." She placed a hand on her stomach which had been growling since they started their trek to the house. "Then see where that takes us."

"I know the best place..." Trevor started as he took hold of her hand leading her out of the living room. "...and the best way to get there."

A bike ride up the road blessed Lela with the best turkey sandwich she ever devoured and the plus was they came with fresh, hot from the oil kettle chips that had a sprinkle of pink Himalayan sea salt. From there they went to the African Meeting House and then to the Whaling Museum. Thirst sent them back to Nantucket Town to a little store that Trevor swore had the best juice in town. The peachy-cranberry elixir that was poured over crushed ice was good but she bragged that The Cape did juice better. A bracelet on a mannequin's wrist caught her eye and what began as window shopping turned into a costly purchase when Trevor ducked in the store.

The night quickly approached and Lela was submerged in fluffy suds topped with warm water-soaking muscles she didn't even know she had. Honeysuckle and rose swirled in her olfactory as she lathered her soft molasses skin humming along to the smooth tune coming from the speaker built into the wall. She slowly sighed to herself as she pulled her body out of the claw-foot tub.

Chills claimed her dripping body before she could wrap the towel around her. She pulled the tie from her hair and let her braids cascade down her back as she strutted to the bedroom with dark grey tones and a king-size bed.

The curtains were still open but unless a whale was going to jump out of the ocean with binoculars her curvaceous body was still a secret not known by many men. She massaged cocoa butter over every inch of her skin then shimmied in some underwear, a lacy bralette, and some black basketball shorts before making her way downstairs.

Coriander, lime, and Paprika helped Lela discover the way to the kitchen. Her footfalls stopped in the doorway as she watched Trevor whisk a green concoction into a glass bowl he cupped in his other hand. A slow smile formed on her lips as warmth surged through her body regardless of the goosebumps appearing on the back of her arms from the gentle breeze blowing through the opened window.

"Are you just going to stand there like a stalker..." Trevor stopped the quick flicks of his wrist. "Or help me with dinner?"

Lela slipped her arms through the sleeves of the black jacket as she entered the well-lit kitchen. "You look like you've got it all under control." She eyed the coconut-crusted halibut sizzling in the skillet then sidled next to him as she drizzled lime juice into his green condiment. "I thought you couldn't cook."

"I can't." He quipped, sitting the bowl back on the white granite island. "I mean not until Harmony gave me a crash course in taco-making."

Lela leaned against the island eyeing him suspiciously, "You've been getting cooking lessons from Harmony."

"Yep." He dabbed his pointing finger in the sauce then held it in front of her lips, "Taste."

She pulled her lips apart and sucked the green sauce from his finger tasting avocado, lime, and cayenne. She savored the citrusy, creamy, and spicy sauce upon her tastebuds.

"Damn, that's sexy." Trevor gruffly stated.

Lela smirked as she glanced over her shoulder, "The fish is burning."

The words sent Trevor shuffled to the stove. Lela hopped onto the kitchen island as she watched him fumble with the tongs and successfully flip the fish over.

"Looks like we're having blackened fish tonight." She teased zipping up her jacket.

"Hey, don't judge my first official dish." He picked at the slightly burnt side with the spatula then moved away from the stove. "It's still going to be good just wait and see." He claimed the space in front of her—gluing his hands on her pulp thighs.

"Oh...I'll wait." Lela lowly told as she circled her legs around his torso then draped her arms onto his white t-shirt-covered shoulders. "And I'll see." She dipped her head as Trevor's lips found hers. His hands inched up her thighs and she wished she put on shorter shorts, as they tasted each other as if it was the first time. She let out a guttural moan as his mouth abandoned her lips and wreaked pleasurable havoc on her neck. She combed her hand through his loose tresses as his mouth visited the valley between her supple mounds. He wrenched his hand around her jacket—pulling it off her shoulder as well as her bralette strap giving his hungry eyes full view of her breast.

Lela took in a ragged breath as his mouth feasted on her body. Her nose took in a charred aroma as her heels dug into the small of his back, "It's burning."

"Huh," Trevor grunted out as he moved towards her belly button.

"Foods burning." Lela rasped out throwing her head back as his hand found the garden that hid her feminine flower.

"Yes, the food's burning." A heated, stern voice orated extinguishing the fire that surged in Trevor's manhood.

He peeked over Lela's shoulder with redness burning his cheeks, "Dad. Mom."

Lela quickly pulled her bralette back on and zipped her jacket all the way up. She held her face—frozen with embarrassment. She knew she'd meet his parents one day and this was not the way she wanted to meet them.

"Young lady..." The gingered voice of a middle-aged woman called out. "You can turn around we all know you're here."

Lela held her face staring at Trevor with wide eyes. She shook her head and mouthed No freaking way to Trevor.

"It's okay." Trevor patted the side of her thigh, "They won't bite."

Lela flicked his hand away from her then slid off the island. She turned around and flashed an uneasy smile to the people who bore the man she was in love with. She gave a short wave and noted that his father looked like him only his hair was cropped and lines were etched around his mouth, eyes, and across his forehead. Lela could tell his mother was beautiful in her youth with the same sapphire eyes as her son, a slightly wrinkled face that had been acquainted with Botox, auburn hair pulled in a loose ponytail hanging over her shoulder, and a thin frame that she held onto from her years of modeling.

"I'm Lela." She disclosed stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "The girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Mrs. Voss humphed folding her arms as she astutely studied Lela.

"Girlfriend." Trevor chirped draping his arm on Lela's shoulder. "We're more than that." He pulled her closer to her regardless of her stiffness.

"More as in what?" Mr. Voss rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't tell me you married this girl."

Trevor's eyebrows furrowed, "In a year, yes."

Mr. Voss took a relieved breath as Mrs. Voss's gaze turned furious. "Trevor..." Mrs. Voss moved her narrowed eyes off of Lela and then to her son, "We need to talk." She turned on her stiletto heels. "Immediately."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Lela." Mr. Voss dryly said with a curt nod and followed his wife out of the kitchen.

Lela planted her face in the palms of her balmy hands, "Your parents think I'm a slut."

"No." Trevor took hold of her wrists and pulled her hands from her face. "They don't know you to think anything." He looked over his shoulder. "But once they get to know you...they'll fall in love with you as I did."

"You think?" Lela asked with uncertainty harbored in her tone.

"Without a doubt." He gently peeked at her cheek bringing a faint smile to her features.

Trevor cut the stove off, then watched Lela climb the stairs before he located his parents in the family room. He said a quick prayer before he crossed the threshold.

Do you think Trevor's parents will like Lela?

We'll see in the next chapter.