“I guess I don’t need this,” I say, holding up the ticket. Fate didn’t want me on that plane, and even though I’m enjoying it, I’m not sure fate wants me in this bed, either.
“Didn’t I hear you guys say there’s a big Fourth of July party at the beach?”
“Yep.”
“You think we can make it?”
He smiles, relieved and happy. “I definitely think we can make it.” His hand skims down my waist, lingering over my bare bottom other than the lacy panties.
“It’s a long drive, shouldn’t we get moving?”
His lips sear across my shoulder. “Once we get back I’m going to have to share you with the others, so give me another few minutes to enjoy this.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, capturing my lips with his, and I figure that yeah, he does deserve a little more time, but not much, because I can’t wait to get back to the beach.
18
There’s no hesitation about my first stop when I get back to Ocean Beach. Nick drops me and my luggage off at the main house. A tire swing hangs from the giant shade tree and bright plastic toys are littered around the yard. I leave my bag at the bottom of the steps and knock on the aluminum screen door.
“Sibley, stay out of the cookie jar, you hear,” Anita shouts over her shoulder before turns to face the door—and me. She stops short.
“Hi,” I say tentatively.
“Hello,” she crosses her arms defensively but I can tell she is surprised to see me.
“I came by to apologize. I never should have run off like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I was worried about you.” She frowns. “And I missed you.”
“I know. I had to take care of some stuff back home and kind of get my head back on straight.”
“The teacher?”
“Yep. That’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore—hopefully not for anyone. I’m sorry he came down here.”
“He needed an old-school ass-kicking,” she says with a grunt.
“Yeah, I heard Whit gave him that black eye. Did he get in trouble?”
“You’re going to have to talk to him about that.”
“Fair enough.”
Anita watches me carefully through the screen until she says, “My mama said the Barnes girls are runners. I’m just glad it didn’t take you thirty years to come home.”
Home.
The word strikes a chord, something deep inside I never understood beyond the superficial. I reach for the door handle and wrench it open with a loud screech. Anita’s eyes widen but she allows me to pull her into a tight, clinging hug.
“So,” she says, in a slow voice, “wanna come to a Fourth of July party?”
“Yes. I really, really do.”
“Ivy’s parents will be here for the week and they always have a big cookout. Lots of crab and shrimp. We can crash at her place legally this time.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Better than France?”
