Page 2 of Where the Blacktop Ends

I laugh. Such a city boy thing to ask. “Could be. But after growing up in Texas, if it’s not a scorpion or a bobcat, I’m not worried.”

The sun sets slowly, casting a warm glow across the sky, the full moon already hanging overhead. I smile up at it, feeling the magic of summer—the promise of more good days ahead. Away from the city, away from the noise, away from Texas. It feels like everything is possible out here near the coast yet close to the city. It’s my favorite place to be.

“It’s breathtaking. I really wouldn’t mind staying in the Hamptons, but I could never afford it on my own, and I don’t think I’m cut out for living in New York City.”

James nudges me with his foot from where he’s floating next to me. “Then let’s go into the clubhouse and find you a sugar daddy so that you can stay.”

We flip to our feet, wading out of the pond but not before we notice two men standing nearby on the shoreline, watching us.

Both are dressed like the quintessential preppy, wealthy types who are the exact opposite of everything I find attractive and why I’d never want to live in the city. One’s wearing a deep blue polo shirt, the other in purple. Their golf caps are pulled low over their faces, gloves on, slacks neatly pressed. I guarantee they wear suits Monday through Friday and yell at their administrative assistants to bring them more coffee.

James rolls his eyes at the sight of them, arms crossed like they own the place and are judging us for our reckless swim.

“Politicians,” he murmurs.

He might blend in with these types when I’m not around, but when we’re together, he’s fiercely protective of our bond, always leaning into his carefree, rebellious side.

“Gentlemen,” he says with a nod, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the bank with him.

His grip is firm, protective, and for a second, I feel self-conscious in my skimpy bikini in front of these strangers. But the tipsiness from earlier still has me giggling and walking with a little more sway in my hips as we stride past them, their annoyance clear as our golf cart blocks their path.

Sliding into the seat, James starts the engine, ready to speed off, but not before I catch the eye of the guy in the navy-blue polo.

His gaze is intense, lingering in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. I’m sure he’s not my type at all, hair probably perfectlycoifed, nails way too clean, skin buffed, but there’s something attractive about the way he’s carrying himself.

Polo shirt stretched across a broad chest, tanned skin, hair just a little bit longer underneath his visor brushing at the back of his neck, and legs spread apart like he’s comfortable mounting a horse.

And the way he’s looking at me with such intensity—I shiver—it makes me wonder if I’ll see him again.

And oddly, I kind of hope that I do...

Chapter 1 – Georgia

“Uh, I feel like I’m a little underdressed.”

James grins at me, completely unfazed. “No, everyone else here is just overdressed.”

“They’re wearing suits. And dresses.”

“Yeah.”

“You said this was a forties and up pool party.’”

“I said a forties and up party… by the pool.’”

I groan, rubbing my temples as my gaze sweeps over the terrace of the Hamptons country club. Servers move between tables, setting up for the mixer event James somehow conned me into attending.

“James,” I hiss. “We aren’t even supposed to be here. We’re not forty years old!”

He plants his hands on his hips, looking way too pleased with himself. And of course, he isn’t wearing a suit either. Just swim trunks. Bare chest. Like this was his plan all along.

“I know,” he says. “But imagine how thrilled they’ll be when a couple of hot, late twenty-somethings roll in wearing swimsuits.”

I roll my eyes and sink into one of the poolside lounge chairs. “When does this thing start?”

He drops into the chair beside me. “Thirty minutes.”

“Perfect. Just enough time for a power nap.”

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