Page 15 of Chasing Sunsets

I should be worried about this. I should be keeping my distance.

But instead, I let him open the passenger door for me, enjoying the way his eyes slide over my backside as I climb inside. And I allow myself to think—just for tonight—maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.

We pull up to a small building with a walk-up window. There is a large wooden board to the left of the window with a hand-painted menu.

“Welcome to the Salty Hammock. What can we get you?” the teenager asks before looking up to see who is standing before her. “Oh, hey, Anson. You want your usual?”

“Hey, Lucy. Yeah, I’ll take four of the Baja fish tacos, and the lady will have …” He looks at me and waits.

I glance at the menu before answering, “Two bang bang shrimp tacos with extra sour cream.”

He adds two sweet teas and six ice-cream-topped churros to our order, pays, and then leads us to one of the umbrella-covered picnic tables while we wait for our food.

“This is a cool place,” I say as I look around the patio.

“Yeah, they have the best tacos on the island. They have the same owner as The Salty Surfer restaurant, but I prefer it here. You can walk up right off the beach, and shirt and shoes are not required,” he explains.

“Well, I can support theno shoespolicy, but … I think they would kick me out if I didn’t wear a shirt,” I say as I unwrap a straw and insert it into the lid of my Styrofoam cup.

His eyes immediately drop to my chest. “Oh, I doubt that,” he murmurs.

I clear my throat before wrapping my lips around the straw and taking a long sip of the cold, sweet drink.

His gaze snaps back to mine, and he smiles innocently. “I just mean you could wear your bikini top, and they’d be fine with it.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, and he grins.

A voice calls out his name, and he jogs over to the window. He stops at a side bar for utensils before returning to the table with our food.

I load my spicy-shrimp-filled tortilla with sour cream, take a huge bite, and moan as the flavor explodes on my tongue.

“Oh my goodness, this is so good,” I say around the mouthful.

Anson reaches over and swipes a dollop of cream from the corner of my mouth.

“I told you,” he says as he sucks it from his thumb.

Damn.

He tops his tacos with pico de gallo and guacamole. “So, what’s your story?” he asks.

“My story?”

“Yeah. What brought you to our little island?”

I consider him for a moment. How much of myself do I want to share?

“I came with a friend. We were supposed to be just passing through on our way to Florida and I woke up one day and he was gone. Guess he changed his mind.”

“What the hell? Seriously?”

I shrug. “It wasn’t a big a deal. We hadn’t known each other that long. We met on a meditation retreat where he was one of the instructors. I don’t know; I guess I was feeling a bit trapped in my life at the time, and he was charismatic and charming. It was stupid and impulsive, but he offered me a sense of freedom, and I went for it,” I admit, shaking my head. “It was infatuation not love.”

“Doesn’t make him any less of a jackass for taking off on you like that,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, that was a douche move for sure,” I agree.

“Are you going to stay here in Sandcastle Cove or are you thinking about heading home?”

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