Page 9 of Tequila Lime and Sunshine

By the time the food comes out, I’m feeling a lot more relaxed and I think Summer is too. It probably has something to do with the margaritas we sucked down.

Summer takes her phone out to take a picture of her food before she eats it. I’m used to seeing that since I live in LA, but it’s funny seeing Summer do it. It’s not something I ever imagined from her.

“Summer, are you going to be taking pictures like that this whole trip?” her mom asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice. I wonder if her parents even know how successful their daughter is.

“Mom, this is my job,” Summer replies calmly, like this isn’t the first time she’s had to explain this. “People want to know where I stayed, what I did, and what I ate. So, yes, I will be taking pictures for most of the trip.”

Her mom sighs but doesn’t say anything else on the subject. Holden asks how Summer’s blog is going, and she gives a vague answer, probably not wanting to brag about herself. But I’ve seen every post, all the interactions, and the million followers she has. She’s killing it.

When she quickly changes the subject and asks Holden how his engineering job is going, he says great and that it’s exactly what he hoped it would be. It’s a boring conversation and feels somewhat forced, but I guess the goal is to make it through this first dinner. The awkwardness should ease up eventually, right?

After dinner, Summer announces, “I’m going to head down to the beach for a little.”

I don’t think she means it as an invitation to anyone, but because I can’t help myself and am drawn to her, I say, “I’ll walk with you. I haven’t been down there yet.”

She glares at me but doesn’t make a smart-ass comment since our families are here. She saves those for when we’re alone.

“Babe, do you want to go down to the beach too?” Holden asks Carly.

Carly looks at Summer and then back at Holden. “Um, I was hoping we could settle into our room. It’s been a long day.”

Holden doesn’t hide his disappointment as he looks between Summer and me. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

We say goodnight to everyone and head to the beach. Summer slips off her shoes when we get to the sand, and I hear her audibly gasp when her bare feet hit the sand. She loves it here.

She walks to the water’s edge and lets the waves crash into her legs. I stand next to her, my feet getting wet too.

“You didn’t have to come down here with me. I’m fine on my own,” she says after a few minutes of silence.

“I didn’t come for you. I wanted to see the beach.” It’s a half-truth. I did want to see the ocean, but I really wanted to see her in the ocean. It makes me feel a little better that she’s not here alone, which is stupid since she literally travels by herself as her career, but you never know.

She wraps her hand around her phone, and I know she wants to take a picture of herself at the beach. She looks around for a place to put her phone so she can set it on a self-timer.

Since I’m here, I offer, “I can take your picture for you.”

She looks at me wide-eyed, like I’ve just offered to take her to the moon. “You’d do that?”

“Take your picture?” I ask slowly, confused why anyone wouldn’t take her picture. “Yeah. Did you forget I’m a professional photographer? It’s kind of my job to take pictures of people.”

She laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh in years, and it’s music to my ears. “Right. I forgot about that. I’m so used to taking my own pictures. Usually, I have a little tripod, but I left it in the room.”

“Give me your phone.” She hands it over, and I take a few steps back to find the best angle. I know from stalking her Instagram page that she typically takes pictures with her back to the camera. I kneel and fix a few of the camera settings before snapping pictures of her staring out into the dark ocean. She holds her hair up with her arms and shows her profile while looking at the beach with a smile. She gets more comfortable and runs further into the ocean, her arms up in the air. All of them are stunning.

But when she turns to walk back toward me, that’s when the magic happens. I snap several as she moves. She’s not looking at me, but she has a genuine smile on her face, and her hair dances in the ocean breeze. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Summer is right now, and she doesn’t even know it.

I quickly airdrop the pictures to myself because I know I want to look at them over and over, and I can’t be sure which, if any, she’ll post. Better safe than sorry.

“Thanks,” she says, sounding a little shy, which is not something I’m used to from Summer.

I hand her back her phone. “Any time. It’s not a hardship taking pictures of a beautiful woman.” I don’t mean to say that, but I don’t regret it either. She is beautiful, and any man on the planet would agree.

She scoffs. “Please. I’m nothing compared to the women you’re usually around.”

Yes, my job entails taking pictures of beautiful women. But those women are caked in make-up, and half of them are starving and cranky beyond belief.

I toss my arm around her shoulders as we make our way back to the room. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve had a long day or because she’s tipsy from the drinks, but she doesn’t move to take my arm off. And when we get back to our room, I whisper, “No one is as beautiful as you, Sunshine. No one.”

CHAPTER 6