Page 64 of Chasing Sunsets

He closes his eyes, and his head flies back as he roars, and his release empties inside of me.

Once we come down from our orgasms, I lift my eyes to his. Still inside of me, he leans down and kisses me deeply one more time before slipping out.

I sit up and grab my discarded towel to clean up as he disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he climbs in beside me and pulls the sheet up over us. I roll onto my side and rest an arm across his chest, snuggling into him.

“Sweet dreams, Trouble,” he murmurs against my forehead as my eyelids grow heavy.

Content, my body completely spent, I close my eyes and drift off.

Anson

Whiskey Joe’s sits just off the island—a sprawling country bar with a wide wooden stage and the smells of grilled steak and fried catfish hanging thick in the humid air. It’s the kind of place where the music is loud, the beer is cold, and the dance floor is always full.

I lead Tabby inside, and we make our way through the bar, passing tables packed with people drinking and laughing, the wooden floor vibrating under our feet as a new song kicks on.

Tonight, we’re all here to celebrate our friend Brew’s birthday. He owns the bar, and as the general manager, Audrey took it upon herself to arrange for one of his favorite bands to play and had the private section roped off for us. The entire crew is already seated when Tabby and I arrive.

Last night was amazing, even better than the night I’d spent in the RV. I liked waking up with her in my arms in my big, comfortable bed.

Tabby lets go of my hand and heads for the chair next to Avie. She’s in a pair of tight jeans and a black top that shows justenough skin to make me consider skipping this whole thing and finding a dark corner for just the two of us.

She catches me staring and smirks as she takes a seat. I glance to the side as the sound of live music begins, the twang of a steel guitar cutting through the laughter and chatter of the crowd.

“You made it!”

A giant hand slaps me on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of me. I turn to see Brew with a whiskey in his other hand.

“Like I’d miss a party,” I say.

He laughs as his eyes look to the table and land on Tabby. “And who’s that?”

“Tabby,” I say as her eyes meet mine again, and she smiles.

“I haven’t seen her around. She an island bunny?” he asks just as Sebastian walks up to us.

“Fuck no!” I snap, and Brew’s eyes widen.

Sebastian clasps my shoulders. “Our boy here has gone and got himself a girlfriend,” he says.

“She’s not a girlfriend,” I say instinctively, but then amend, “I mean, I don’t know exactly what we are. It’s not like we’ve had a discussion.”

Brew lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Me neither,” I say.

“What about you, old man?” Sebastian asks Brew. “I know you’ve said that your lifestyle doesn’t really work for a relationship, but if this asshole can find someone to put up with him—”

“Watch it,” I snap, then turn to Brew. “But he has a point. You’re not getting any younger. What are you, forty now?” I tease.

“I’m thirty-seven,” he states. “And I’m a perfectly content single man, thank you very much. I’m married to my businesses.”

Brew, also known as Brewster Cartwright III, is the grandson of Brewster Cartwright Sr.—the billionaire CEO of Cartwright Motorsports and owner of Carolina Automotive LLC. They own over a dozen speedways nationwide and are heavily involved in stock car racing. Brew and his father, Brewster Jr., work for the family empire. Brew opened this bar outside his hometown of Sandcastle Cove as a small side venture several years ago and it’s grown to the lucrative establishment it is today.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose. “That doesn’t sound nearly as much fun as curling up with a beautiful woman every night.”

Ain’t that the damn truth?

“Who said I don’t?” Brew says, then adds, “At least every other night. Just not the same beautiful woman.”

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