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More than being on the East Coast to save millions of dollars.
Penny pushes up onto her knees. She is naked and fucking perfect. She runs her fingers through my hair. Her simple touch soothes me in a way I struggle to explain. “I will if you do one thing for me.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her warm body against mine. “What?”
“We have brunch at the Barefoot Bar.”
“That’s it? You could have asked for anything, and I would have said yes.”
She gives a light laugh. “It’s something you said you’d never do.”
I flip her on her stomach, pull her to her knees, and take a good look at her ass. “Perhaps you could convince me,” I murmur.
She wiggles her ass. “Frankie, your challenge is the worst because it’s something I want too.”
I smack her ass. “Until you’re incapable of walking into the bar.”
* * *
It’s almostten by the time Penny and I make our way along the beach, shoes in our hands. It feels right doing this with her. My thoughts drift to having a life with Penny in this house—walking along the beach on weekends, raising a family in a coastal community. Our lives are mapping out before me—it feels right, yet a sinking sensation settles in my gut.
It would be a perfect scenario if I could be home with her.
Penny stops, bending over to collect shells. Fuck. Her ass is perfect with her rust-colored polka-dot dress clinging to her curves. I want to pull her against my dick. She straightens and hands the shells to me to put in my pocket. I do it without hesitation.
Sand in my pockets.
The material is bulging full of shells.
Who am I?
“These are my favorite. I used to collect them as a kid.” She hands me a cylindrical-shaped shell. “Oh, look. Beach glass.” She studies a piece of shiny green glass with smooth edges refracting the brilliant morning sun.
But it’s freaking glass, not treasure. “No more, Pen. I have no room.”
She smiles and takes my hand, the gritty particles of sand still on her fingertips. We leave the beach and take a path to the restaurant.
Before we get to the foyer, my cell buzzes. I check the screen—Kimberley calling…
“Pen, I need to take this call. Go in and get us a table.”
I wait for Penny to head inside before answering, “Kimberley. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Franklin. Damien has pneumonia, but he’s being treated with antibiotics. Since you said you might visit this week, I wanted to give you the heads-up.”
“Is he okay?”
“He usually pulls through, but there is a chance he might not. We have to accept that as his lungs are weakening.”
“I’ll be there in a few days. Thank you for the call.”
I stand outside and reminisce about my years at college with Damien. We both had goals and dreams. He’d never back down from a challenge or a dare. Sometimes we had to recognize when we should let the challenge go, as winning could result in a negative outcome like it did for Damien.
His only company is nursing staff, along with his family caring for him. He told me it’s like living his life in solitude, and I’ll never forget the pain etched into his sad face.
I’m about to spend another four weeks on the other side of the country.
Is being alone for weeks on end the life I want for Penny? She’d be lonely in a big, empty house.
