Chapter Fourteen
Tabby
“Y ou going to be all right if I go help?” he asks.
I nod, and he steps away to join Sebastian at the grill. I watch as the guys fall into conversation, teasing each other as Anson playfully criticizes his barbecuing skills.
And then Leia spots Anson.
The little girl squeals his name and comes barreling toward him, her curly hair bouncing as she runs. Anson catches her midair, hoisting her onto his hip without a second thought.
“Well, hey there, Princess Leia,” he says, grinning. “You been behaving yourself?”
She nods solemnly, though Sebastian snorts.
“That’s debatable.”
Anson just laughs and tosses her onto his shoulders, making her giggle as she clutches his hair. He takes off running across the yard, pretending to be a horse while she shrieks with laughter.
I don’t even realize I’m smiling until Amiya nudges me with her elbow.
“Careful,” she teases. “Watching Anson with Leia is dangerous.”
I turn to her, brow raised. “Oh?”
She grins knowingly. “Something about a man who’s good with kids … it messes with your head. That’s how I ended up with Lennon.”
I laugh, shaking my head, but I can’t deny there’s something about the way Anson is with Leia—playful but patient, letting her direct the game without ever losing that effortless charm of his. It’s a side of him I didn’t expect, and I like it.
I spend most of the evening with Avie and the other women, sipping wine and swapping stories. They ask about RV life, and I tell them about the places I’ve been—waking up to sunrises, camping beside crystal-clear lakes, the freedom of moving wherever the road takes me.
“It sounds amazing,” Audrey says. “But also … lonely?”
I hesitate for half a second before answering. “I wasn’t alone for most of it,” I admit. “There was a guy, but I woke up one morning, and he was gone.”
Amiya tilts her head. “Oh, now, it’s starting to make sense.”
“What is?” I ask.
“Why Anson said you two are just friends when he is so into you,” she says.
“Is he?” I glance toward Anson, who’s talking with Sebastian and Lennon by the grill, beer in hand, completely at ease.
“Girl, isn’t it obvious? I mean, he brought you here to spend the evening with us. He’s never introduced us to a woman before,” she says.
I bring my eyes to her. “Never? Really?”
“Never. He just goes off on his little conquests, but when it comes to family time—and, yes, we’re a family—it’s just him.”
A warm feeling spreads across my cheeks as I take in her words.
“Looks like maybe you’re into him too?” Audrey states.
“The past few months have been intense. I’ve been very focused on my next steps, trying to settle in and make a home,” I say slowly, avoiding the question. “I’m still figuring things out.”
They exchange knowing smiles, and I roll my eyes.
“And,” Avie says, leaning in conspiratorially, “how does Anson fit into that?”
They’re not going to drop it that easily.
“I don’t know,” I say automatically.
“Uh-huh.” Heather smirks. “You sure about that?”
I take a long sip of my wine. “We’re friends.”
Amiya snorts. “Right.”
I ignore them, but the heat creeping up my neck has nothing to do with the wine.
By the time Anson and I leave, I’m pleasantly tipsy, the kind of relaxed that makes everything feel a little lighter. The drive back to the campground is slow and easy. The windows are rolled down, and the night air is hot against my skin.
I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. “That was nice.”
“Yeah?” His voice is low, amused.
I glance over at him. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. The faint glow from the dashboard highlights the strong line of his jaw, the slight curve of his lips.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I like your friends.”
“They like you too,” he says. Then, after a beat, “Amiya definitely does.”
I snort. “I like her too. And she sure has your number.”
He chuckles. “She subtle?”
“Not even a little.”
He grins, and for a second, I get caught staring. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s just him, but everything about this moment—the wind in my hair, the warmth in my chest, the way his fingers tap absently against the steering wheel—feels … right.
And dangerous.
“You have fun?” he asks, glancing at me.
“I did.” I pause. “I liked seeing you with Leia.”
His smile softens. “She’s a great kid.”
“You’re good with her.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “She’s easy to love.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach do a slow flip.
The rest of the drive is quiet, comfortable, the kind of silence that doesn’t need filling. By the time we pull up to my RV, the stars are scattered across the sky, bright and endless. The air smells like the ocean, like summer and salt and something familiar.
Anson puts the truck in park, but doesn’t move to shut it off. Instead, he turns to me, that teasing smile back in place. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you to the door? You’ve had a lot of wine.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “I think I can manage the ten steps without hurting myself.”
But I don’t move. Neither does he.
The air shifts, thick with something unspoken.
I should get out. I should say good night, go inside, stick to the boundaries I set.
Instead, I glance at his mouth.
“Careful. You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to kiss you,” he warns.
My eyes flit back up to his.
“That would be breaking the rules,” I whisper.
He grins, and his hand comes up to caress the side of my face.
“The best thing about rules is breaking them. Besides, friends can kiss. It’s like kissing cousins, but without the grossness or guilt,” he says.
That makes me laugh until I hear his seat belt click, and his body moves closer, his thumb rubbing gently across my bottom lip.
“I like that,” he says. “The sound of your laughter.”
I open my mouth, and my tongue swipes out to taste his skin. His eyes darken as he brings his mouth to mine.
“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says against my lips.
I should, but instead, I kiss him.
I don’t even think about it, don’t give myself time to second-guess. I just lean in and press my lips to his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of wine.
For half a second, he’s still.
And then he kisses me back.
It’s slow, languid—like we have all the time in the world. His other hand comes up, fingers brushing against my jaw, and a shiver runs down my spine.
When I finally pull back, my head is spinning—and not just from the wine.
His eyes are intense, amused. “Well, well.”
I swallow. “That … shouldn’t have happened.”
His grin is lazy, knowing. “Like I said, friends kiss sometimes.”
I arch a brow. “Do they?”
“Sure.” He leans back, stretching an arm across the back of his seat, like he isn’t fazed at all. “Good friends do.”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet here you are, kissing me.”
I glare at him, but it’s useless. He knows he’s won this round.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.
I shrug. “Sleeping in. Maybe doing some painting or swimming. I don’t really have any plans.”
“Want to take a boat ride?” he asks.
“Where to?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise adventure. I’ll pick you up at noon. Bring your painting supplies.”
That piques my interest.
“Okay.”
I reach for the handle. “Good night, Anson,” I say, opening the door.
He watches me, still grinning. “Sweet dreams, Trouble.”
As I step inside my RV, closing the door behind me, I press my fingers to my lips, my skin still tingling.
Friends kiss sometimes.
Maybe.
But that didn’t feel like a friendly kiss. Not by a long shot.