Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“This bit is a public beach,” Rhett explains. “The rest is private. Rach home has their own strip of private beach.”
The sun is higher now, painting the sky a pale, flawless blue, and the air carries the faint scent of salt, seaweed, and sunscreen. It’s the smell of vacations, of long, lazy days and endless possibilities. The day already feels impossibly perfect as we arrive outside of the little beachside restaurant.
Rhett holds the door. “Come on, before the sun robs us of the good table.”
My sandals crunch on the boardwalk planks as we leave the interior and walk out onto the terrace, where a waiter materializes from nowhere and pulls a chair out for me with a flourish.
The restaurant is small and ultra-modern, the sort of place that screams Instagrammable. It is definitely a Hamptons-style place. Each of the glass tables has its own chic black umbrella, and hand-painted signs advertise craft beers and fresh seafood.
“Don’t be put off by the décor,” Rhett says, as though he’s reading my mind. “The food is genuinely good, and it’s not those tiny artistic portions that leave you hungry.”
I grin at him and decide to trust his judgement and the mouthwatering smell of grilled fish that is drifting lazily across the sand.
“So what’s good?” I ask, picking up the menu and scanning the options.
Rhett leans back in his chair, his eyes crinkling in the sun. “How hungry are you?”
“Starving.”
“The lobster roll is excellent, though the fish tacos are not to be missed either. Why not have both?”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ll make me fat.”
He shrugs. “Eat less tomorrow. Life is way too short not to have everything you want at a beach restaurant.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine, I’ll live dangerously. Lobster roll and fish tacos it is.”
We order, and the server hustles off, leaving us with the soft hum of conversation, the occasional cry of seagulls, and the gentle slap of waves in the distance. I let myself relax into the moment, leaning back in the chair, feeling the sun warm my shoulders, and stealing glances at Rhett. He looks impossibly handsome in the sunlight.
By the time our lunch arrives, my stomach is growling. We dig in, laughing as Rhett steals a bite off my plate, insisting it’s a professional obligation to make sure it’s up to standard. I pretend to roll my eyes and scold him, but I’m secretly enjoying the closeness, the easy intimacy that has settled between us.
“I can see why you brought me here,” I say between mouthfuls, savoring the crunch of the fresh cabbage in my tacos. “It’s definitely not the style-over-substance place I thought it was going to be.”
He leans across the table and picks up his glass of Campari. “I never go for style over substance. I got the impression you were the same.”
I nod, my eyes softening, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in my chest. “I am, and it’s really nice here.”
Lunch winds down.
Rhett settles the bill, and we stroll along the sand toward the beach. The sun is higher and stronger now, and I can feel the heat on my skin as we lay our towels down side by side. Rhett removes his T-shirt and lies on the towel, his arms behind his head, his eyes closed. I take off my clothes and reveal my red bikini. Rhett opens his eyes and whistles. I laugh and shake my head.
Stretching out in the soft sand next to him instantly makes any last lingering tension in my muscles melt away.
“Ah,” I sigh, letting the warmth of the sun seep into me. “This is heaven.”
“Yeah. Nothing like the sun, the sand, and no one looking.”
I glance over at him, smiling. “No one looking? I saw quite a few pairs of eyes watch you when your T-shirt came off.”
He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But right now, pretend it’s just us, Pippa.”
We lie in companionable silence for a few minutes. There is nothing to be said, just enjoyed. Nothing to feel but the warmth, the breeze, the distant laughter of children playing, the sound of the waves rolling in, the soft hiss of the wind through the dunes.
I don’t want to ruin my holiday by burning my skin. Sitting up, I open my bag and dig out my sunscreen. I start applying it, and I can feel Rhett watching me. I glance over at him and find that he has propped himself up on his elbows and he’s staring at me quite intently as I rub the cream into my legs.
“Don’t mind me,” he says. “I’m just watching the show.”
I shake my head and continue on with the cream. I do my arms, my legs, my belly and chest, and my face and neck. Then I turn to him and to my surprise, my voice drops seductively. “Will you do my back?”