Page 26 of Chasing Sunsets

I blow out a breath. That’s a lot of people.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she says, gently patting my hand. “You’re going to love them.”

I nod and tap a reply, asking him where and when. He immediately answers that they are packing up now and heading to his friend Sebastian’s house for a barbeque.

“Where does Sebastian live?” I ask.

“Across from me, about five miles in that direction, toward the Intracoastal,” Sabel says, pointing down the road that leads to the campground’s entrance. “Do you need a ride?”

My phone dings with another message.

“No. I’ll just borrow the bike. If that’s okay?” I ask Freda as I tap the screen to read it.

“Of course it’s okay. Pete told you to take it anytime,” she says.

Anson: I’ll swing by and pick you up in ten.

Me: Ten. As in ten minutes?

Anson: Yes.

I look down at my dirty hands and fingernails, noticing the fertilizer-stained shorts I’m wearing.

Me: I’ve been working in the garden.

Anson: So? We’ve been sweating our asses off on the beach all afternoon.

Me: I’m filthy.

Anson: Mmm. Nope. Not gonna touch that. *winking emoji*

Me: I’m serious. I need to hose off.

Anson: Making it worse, Trouble.

Me: Ergh. Just give me twenty minutes.

Anson: Fine. Twenty minutes.

“Never mind. He’s going to pick me up,” I say, looking up to see the three of them grinning at me.

I thank them and excuse myself to freshen up. I run to the bathhouse and quickly shower off, then change out of my shorts and tank into a gauzy white sundress that ties behind my neck.After that, I slip into a pair of soft brown leather sandals and wait for him to arrive.

Anson

Ipull up to Tabby’s RV and cut the engine as I glance toward the door. The sun is dipping low over the campground, creating a spectacular sunset, but nothing compares to the sight of her stepping outside.

She moves with easy grace, the gauzy white sundress swaying around her legs as she walks toward the truck. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but a few loose tendrils frame her face, catching the evening light. Her shoulders are bare, tanned from days spent in the sun, and there’s no makeup on her face, except for a hint of gloss on her lips.

She’s fucking beautiful, the kind of woman who doesn’t need anything extra to shine. And, damn, does she shine.

For a second, I forget to breathe.

She opens the passenger door and climbs in; her scent—coconut, mixed with something warm and sweet, like summer itself—fills the cab. She smiles at me, and the familiarity in her eyes makes my grip tighten on the steering wheel.

“You okay?” she asks, tucking one of those loose strands behind her ear.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away before I do something stupid, like lean over and kiss the gloss off her lips. “Yeah,” I say, a little rougher than intended. “You just … look nice.”

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