I open my eyes and pass him the bottle. Dante drinks. He’s impressed, but he only shows it with the raise of an eyebrow. High praise, indeed.
Feeling smug, I dig into my sandwich. We eat in silence for a few moments. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Dante visibly relaxing, taking in the scenery, enjoying his meal. He even reaches for the wine bottle and takes several more drinks before handing it over to me.
“You seem different,” he says, pulling the box of tostones closer. “More…I don’t know. Just different.”
“Yeah. I guess I finally realized something last night.” I look out over the water. “My dad has nothing he can hold over me anymore. I should’ve gotten Livvie out of the house sooner, but losing the horses—as devastating as it is for her—I can’t help thinking it saved us. It’s like he cut away the one string that kept us tied to the compound.”
A familiar pressure settles on my chest. The ever present feeling of not being enough, not doing enough. The guilt over not being there for Livvie during the last few years.
“Now that she’s at Charlie’s,” I add, “Clayton and his connections should be powerful enough to protect Livvie, I think. And I mean, Charlie is practically her mother anyway. She should have moved in there years ago…”
“You did your best,” Dante says soothingly. “You’ve all done your best.”
I nod, mulling it over. “You seem a little different to me too, actually.”
He swallows a bite of his steak sandwich and cocks his head. “Oh?”
“Just look at you. Sitting on the ground, eating with your hands. Drinking out of a bottle. You’re practically a savage.”
We both laugh, and Dante takes another swig of wine as if to prove my point.
“But no…it’s good to see you looking a little less buttoned up. A little more…human.”
“I’m not that bad,” Dante insists.
“Are too,” I say, reaching out to cup his cheek. “Always in control. Never a hair out of place, never a button undone—except to show how casually cool you can be.”
“You think I’m cool?” he says.
“Don’t get all full of yourself now.”
He sets the last bit of his sandwich down, reaches up, and unbuttons his top button. As he holds my gaze, he moves his fingers to the next button. He slowly releases that one, and then another, and another.
“I like where this is going,” I purr, leaning back to watch the impromptu strip show going on in front of me.
His shirt hits the ground, and I take in the delicious way his white undershirt clings to every muscle—of course he would wear an undershirt on a vacation day. He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking as he peels it up his torso and slips it over his head.
Standing, he leans down to pull off his new hiking boots. Next he grins cockily and unfastens his pants, letting them drop to the ground. My mouth falls open as he kicks them away and stands before me, buck-ass nude on the beach.
“Dante Bellanti, I do believe you are indecently exposed. And in public, no less.”
He spreads his arms wide and makes a little turn, showing off for me. His smile is so big, his whole body seems to smile too.
Suddenly, he takes off toward the water. He runs in confident, long-legged strides, barely slowing until the water reaches his mid-thigh. Then he dives in, disappearing for a moment and popping up farther out than where he went in, shaking water out of his hair.
I stand and watch, laughing as he lets loose an exhilarated whoop.
“How cold is it?” I shout.
“Slightly more than anticipated!” he yells back, splashing around.
Did he just make an actual joke?
“Come in with me!” he demands.
Cackling, I cross my arms over my chest. “Not on your life! It must be freezing!”
I’m never one to turn away from a challenge, but I draw the line at hypothermia. He disappears beneath the surface again and I kneel back down on the blanket to start packing up our picnic, stuffing all the boxes and napkins and foil into the to-go bag.
