Page 67 of Changing Tides

“The beach, huh? I guess I could use a few more tan lines before I leave.”

She picks her phone up from the table and taps out a message.

“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.

“Inviting a friend,” she says.

“Who?” Leia asks as she crawls to her knees and leans over to Amiya.

“Anson,” she replies.

I give her a scathing glare. She knows if she invites Anson, then Parker and Sebastian won’t be far behind. And after our wanton night, I’m not sure I’m ready to see him.

My brain needs time to process.

“Yay!” Leia cries.

My little one has grown fond of those men. The thought scares me a bit. I don’t want her heart to break when it’s time to move on from here.

“Oh, stop with the face,” Amiya says as she plucks a strawberry from her plate and tosses it at me.

“I’m not making a face,” I quip.

“Yes, you are. That line between your eyes is scowling at me,” she insists.

Her phone chimes with a message as I begin clearing the table.

“What did he say?”

“They have a full schedule today, but if we’re still out once they’re done, they’ll join us.”

Relief pricks my skin, and I sigh. I toss the dishes in the dishwasher and look over my shoulder at Leia.

“Let’s go get our bathing suits on.”

She sprints toward her room, and the three of us change, pack a cooler full of water and snacks, grab the sunscreen, and head to the golf cart.

We drive a bit farther down the beach this time so we can set up near one of the fishing piers. It has a nice set of public restrooms, a tiny market, and a tiki bar. There’s a gaggle of teenagers making use of the volleyball net to the left.

We forgo our tent and set up our chairs and blankets under the shade of the pier.

Amiya and I pull our towels into the sun as Leia sets up shop with her buckets and shovels a few feet from us.

“So, about last night,” Amiya says as she peers at me from behind her sunglasses.

I tell her all about the romantic restaurant, the amazing food and wine.

“He said that?” she gasps when I recount Sebastian ordering dessert and then declaring it was breakfast.

“Yep.”

“Confident bugger, wasn’t he?” she asks.

“He was oozing with confidence,” I agree.

“So hot,” she muses.

I describe his house and its state of disarray.

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