Free Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch by Victoria Pade

wicker basket and closed the trunk with his free hand. “Lead the way,” he said then, and Abby didn’t hesitate, half-afraid he might take her hand again if she waited to walk beside him.
    And half-afraid he wouldn’t.
    They went about a third of the distance around the lake before they were positioned just right. Cal set the basket on the ground while he snapped open the blanket, then he set the basket on one corner and motioned for Abby to sit.
    She did, hugging another corner as if the center of the blanket was too risqué.
    It didn’t matter. Cal still sat close by.
    â€œSo,” she said to break the silence that had followed them from the car. “Have you always been a big sunset watcher or was this just a come-on?”
    â€œA come-on?” he repeated with a laugh. “That makes me sound so cold and calculating. No, I really am a big sunset watcher. And sunrise, too, if I haven’t had too late a night before. Or if the night before is still goin’ on about then. It’s always been a way of puttin’ some continuity into a life that didn’t have any. Until just lately.”
    He didn’t seem eager to expand on that because he changed the subject to ask what she wanted to drink as he unloaded the food. He poured sparkling water into two wine goblets and set a plate laden with fruit, cheese and crackers on the closed basket lid within easy reach. Then he stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles, leaned back—braced on his elbows—and stared at the horizon.
    â€œThis is a great spot.”
    Abby looked at him as he watched the sky, studying his sculpted profile and wondering—much the way her sisters had—who he really was, where he’d come from, what made him tick.
    He glanced at her and nodded in the direction of mountains, which were only beginning to be outlined in butter-yellow, persimmon-pink and orange the color of a Creamsicle.
    â€œYou’re missin’ it,” he warned before turning back.
    It wasn’t easy to tear her gaze away from him, but she forced herself to. Although she could still see him from the corner of her eye, and in truth watching him as he seemed to lose himself in the view of the setting sun was as intriguing as nature’s display itself.
    There was something elemental about the man. Primitive and naturally sensual. It went along with his apparent lack of awareness of his own impact on her. It seemed to say that he took for granted his appeal and had no problem stepping outside himself to revel in something like a sunset. And maybe being with her to watch it.
    â€œYou know, some of the best colors come from the reflection of the sun’s rays through layers of pollution,” he said. “I guess that’s the good side of a bad thing. But I always wonder what it looked like back when there wasn’t junk in the air. If it was spectacular on its own or just a fading glow that no one paid much mind to. Me, I always stop whatever I’m doin’, wherever I am, to watch because you just never know what you might see.”
    â€œMy favorites are when the sun looks like a fireball,” Abby offered.
    â€œDoes that mean you’re a card-carryin’ sunset watcher, too?”
    â€œNo, I can’t say that. I just notice an occasional, exceptional one.”
    â€œThen you don’t know what you’re missin’ because even the unexceptional ones have a way of bringin’ a peace and calming to the end of the day. I’m not big on stoppin’ to smell the flowers, but a sunset, now, that’s somethin’ else.”
    They finished to watch in companionable silence, and although she’d never thought of it in his terms before, she came to agree with him. There was something very peaceful, very calming in the spectacle. It helped her relax about being with him.
    And then, when the sun’s rays disappeared completely and the sky held its last