Sometime later, Rafe pulls into the parking lot of a fancy-looking building right on the beach. My eyes skim right past the shiny sign - apparently this is the Silver Heron Club - to the view beyond.

"The Club owns this stretch of beach," Rafe says. "Only members have access to it, and we should have the beach to ourselves at this hour."

I don't answer. I'm too busy grinning at the expanse of ocean in front of us. The sight of it still fills me with unbridled joy. ...