Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“Oh, I need a board, right? I don’t have one.”
“Gigi does.”
His gaze darts to mine, and I swear he looks like it was some big secret,
and no one knew he’s been dating his ex-wife.
Speechless for a moment, he finally just breathes out a laugh. “We were
trying to keep it on the down-low,” he says. “Does Clay know?”
“Everyone knows.”
He rolls his eyes. “Awesome.”
And I laugh. I can understand. The divorce was hard on them. Clay saw
the home her brother grew up in become unrecognizable.
But it wasn’t solely Mr. Collins’s fault either. Loss, abandonment,
cheating…a lot of things happened to break up their marriage, but it didn’t
break up their family. Gigi sold the house, bought a lovely cottage on the
beach, and found herself. Clay’s closer to her parents apart than she was
when they were together.
And now, after years, maybe he can make his ex-wife fall in love with
him again. He’s certainly up for the challenge, because it will be one. She’s
different now.
They were trying to keep it quiet, though. They didn’t want to get Clay’s
hopes up until they knew it would last.
“This is a great idea,” he tells me, gesturing to the food. “Thank you,
honey.”
“Anytime.”
I head over to the wine, picking up the sauv blanc and hoping the
refrigerator in our little house has decided to work today, so it’ll be chilled by
the time she gets home. I check my phone for a call, just in case Macon
doesn’t finish with her car and I need to pick her up.
I drive to our home, loving to cross the tracks and loving that she’s on the
wrong side of them with me now, St. Carmen’s little princess, a full-fledged
swamp rat. I speed down the dirt road in an old Jeep I picked up a couple of
years ago, my Ninja at Macon’s house.
The sea permeates the air, and I grab the groceries out of the back, tipping
my head and looking up at the lighthouse. One of the many things on our list
—and as funds allow—is to get the light functional again.
But first, dinner.
I open the old windows in the kitchen, spreading them wide and letting in
the September air as I switch on the music and start making the gumbo.