The drive back is quiet at first, each of us lost in thought. I feel the tension from last night still simmering, a delicious heat under everything, and I can’t help but smile.
By the time we pull back into the driveway of his house, the sun is high in the sky, hot and bright. I step out of the car, feeling the salt air clinging to my hair, and glance at Rhett. His eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable, and I feel that pull again, that magnetic draw that’s been impossible to resist since the moment we met.
“Thanks for today,” I say softly, looping my arm through his as we walk toward the house. “It’s been perfect.”
He smiles, glancing down at me. “Perfect, huh? I like the sound of that. Just remember, it’s not over yet. New York and I have a lot more in store for you.”
I grin, letting myself be pulled along, my heart light and racing, knowing that whatever comes next, whatever adventures, flirts, and challenges await, I’m ready to face them with him. And for the first time in a long time, I feel … free.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pippa
We don’t even make it to the bedroom. He rips my clothes off and takes me on the long white marble table in the breakfast room. The sex is fast, furious, and thrilling. There is almost a desperate quality to it.
“Food. I need food,” I whisper afterwards.
Rhett opens both doors of the fridge, gazes at the contents inside for a few seconds, then closes the doors. “Let’s have lunch out. There’s a lovely little restaurant a five-minute walk away. I think you’ll like it. Afterwards, we could spend a bit of time on the beach if you want.”
“Let’s go,” I say.
I run upstairs and change into my swimsuit, then put my clothes back on over the top of it. I add a large towel and a bottle of sunscreen to my cross bag. Rhett appears in the doorway to see if I’m ready, and he looks even hotter than he did earlier, if that’s even possible. He’s wearing a white polo shirt and navy-blue shorts. He has a pair of sunglasses on his head and a towel slung over one shoulder.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice to come out even right then. I follow him down the stairs, and once out in the bright sunshine, we walk along the row of beachfront mansions.
I pay more attention to them now that I am on foot, and I see pools, tennis courts, the works. I still can’t believe that people not only live like this, but these aren’t even their real houses. They are just their holiday homes. We reach the end of the row of homes and come to an open stretch of beach. The rest of the beach has been quite deserted, but here, it is fairly busy, lots of people lying about on the sand and swimming in the sea.
“This bit is a public beach,” Rhett explains. “The rest is private. Rach home has their own strip of private beach.”
The sun is higher now, painting the sky a pale, flawless blue, and the air carries the faint scent of salt, seaweed, and sunscreen. It’s the smell of vacations, of long, lazy days and endless possibilities. The day already feels impossibly perfect as we arrive outside of the little beachside restaurant.
Rhett holds the door. “Come on, before the sun robs us of the good table.”
My sandals crunch on the boardwalk planks as we leave the interior and walk out onto the terrace, where a waiter materializes from nowhere and pulls a chair out for me with a flourish.
The restaurant is small and ultra-modern, the sort of place that screams Instagrammable. It is definitely a Hamptons-style place. Each of the glass tables has its own chic black umbrella, and hand-painted signs advertise craft beers and fresh seafood.
“Don’t be put off by the décor,” Rhett says, as though he’s reading my mind. “The food is genuinely good, and it’s not those tiny artistic portions that leave you hungry.”
I grin at him and decide to trust his judgement and the mouthwatering smell of grilled fish that is drifting lazily across the sand.
“So what’s good?” I ask, picking up the menu and scanning the options.
Rhett leans back in his chair, his eyes crinkling in the sun. “How hungry are you?”
“Starving.”
“The lobster roll is excellent, though the fish tacos are not to be missed either. Why not have both?”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ll make me fat.”
He shrugs. “Eat less tomorrow. Life is way too short not to have everything you want at a beach restaurant.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine, I’ll live dangerously. Lobster roll and fish tacos it is.”
We order, and the server hustles off, leaving us with the soft hum of conversation, the occasional cry of seagulls, and the gentle slap of waves in the distance. I let myself relax into the moment, leaning back in the chair, feeling the sun warm my shoulders, and stealing glances at Rhett. He looks impossibly handsome in the sunlight.
