Page 23 of Sundown Somewhere

“Thank you,” I say, so softly I’m not entirely sure it’s out loud.

“I’ve got you, Doll. Always.”

Reaching over, Hux takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. The warmth of his touch is comforting, making the lightness in me settle in even more. Letting me know that I’m safe.

All the more reason I know that I need to open up and tell him. Let him in on how I’m really feeling. That the great big emotional monkey on my back isn’t heartbreak like he thinks. The problem, adding to the embarrassment of admitting that I’m embarrassed, is having to tell him. Is admitting that I didn’t tell him before now. And that I don’t know why.

Probably because I barely admitted it to myself.

Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the rhythm of the tires on the pavement, trying to think through everything I’m feeling. To find words to describe why these last couple of weeks have been simultaneously the biggest horror and relief of my life. Yet, nothing comes. Words fail me.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Hux whispers, nudging me.

“Huh?”

I sit straight up, bright sunlight burning my eyes as I try to open them, dizziness taking over for a second. Swiping at my chin, I catch a bit of moisture, dread washing over me that I was drooling on top of napping. Napping. Did I seriously fall asleep?

Who falls asleep in a convertible with the top down?

“We’re here.”

My eyes land on a massive Queen Anne style house, surrounded by live oaks swaying in the breeze, the stone fountain out front bubbling its welcome, like something out of a travel video. A black sign hanging from the eave of the wraparound porch features the silhouette of a swan, beautiful script lettering spelling out The Seven Swans Inn.

“Somerset Island?” I choke out.

Hux nods, the corner of his mouth quirked upward, looking pretty proud of himself. My pulse jumps, the rest of my insides following as I wake up in an instant, still trying to process all this.

Hux brought me to Somerset Island…

Just off the southern coast of Georgia, and about forty-five minutes from Savannah, Somerset Island is home to pristine beaches, a world-class golf course, bike trails, and historical landmarks, making it an incredibly popular vacation spot. The Somerset family bequeathed the island to the state in the 1950s, and the small community was born.

I stare at Hux, who is still looking prouder than a peacock, leaning against the pretty blue rental car, the high-end paint job shimmering in the sun. When he rolled up in the convertible this morning, rather than his old beat-up truck, part of me wanted to question it, but I talked myself out of it. I told myself that he knew that I’d complain about being stuck in that old beater for more than a couple of hours, the padding on the bench seat long past needing an upgrade. Actually, the whole thing is long past needing an upgrade—but that’s a different story.

Now, I know he has something else up his sleeve.

“Just what kind of no good are we going to get up to on Somerset?” I question, throwing all the sass I can at him. I jut out a hip and fold my arms across my chest, bumping up my boobs, a move that would work on any other man out there. Any man except Hux.

Not that he doesn’t like boobs. He does. Even mine. We might only be besties, but he’s a man, and I’ve caught him staring a time or two over the years. But his resistance to my move here has nothing to do with the boob move, and everything to do with the fact that the Hayes men have an armor when it comes to sass that might as well make them bulletproof. All thanks to the fact that their younger sister, Willa—a former Miss Georgia—is the walking, talking definition of spitfire, and they’ve had years of deflection practice thanks to her.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve got plenty planned. We’ll find some trouble while we’re here,” he tells me, crossing his legs out in front of him as he leans against the car. “But this trip is also partially just an escape. Which you can’t tell me you didn’t need.”

“I didn’t⁠—”

“What did I just say?” he sasses back. Oh yeah, Hux can also give as good as he gets.

I glower at him, sticking my tongue out as if I’m five. It’s not the most original comeback, but it’s the only one I have right now. Because he’s right. Escaping is good.

“C’mon, Doll.” He reaches for me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. I fall into him, letting the warmth of his body surround me, my head resting against his chest. My pulse finds the steady beat of his, matching it, relaxing me as we stay like this for a long moment. “Let’s go check out the beach before we check in, then we can get started with letting loose.”

I laugh, the sound reverberating back to me from his hard chest, not wanting to let go quite yet. Something about being like this feels right. Safe. Like for the first time in I don’t know how long, things are okay. As they should be.

Stepping back slightly, I settle under his arm, holding tight to that warmth, letting him lead the way to the beach. The small path that winds around the inn toward the beach is well-worn, spring wildflowers sprouting up on either side to guide the way.

The path gives way to a jetty, and we stop to remove our shoes, stepping onto the sand, letting our toes sink into it. The warm, soft earth is grounding, pulling even more of my emotions forward. Emotions I had planned to keep buried.

“The B&B has been on my list…” I mutter. I’m not sure why I say it out loud, other than not wanting to keep it in.

“I know. I really expected the girls to tell me this is where you were coming on your bachelorette, and that Alice would try and bankrupt me at the spa.”