Anthony reached over and yanked the ponytail holder out of her hair and left his hand on the back of her neck on the same spot where Michael had put his hand just before she’d pulled away. He said, “That’s more like it. The whole point of a Jeep ride is to get your hair messed up.” All this attention from forbidden men! Between Michael and Anthony, Ann felt desirable in a way she’d never felt before. It was intoxicating, as if she were at the center of the world.

Anthony took a left turn just past the red Citgo sign onto Old County Road South.

“But I live—” She pointed farther down Route 6, toward the General Store, the post office, and the apothecary.

“I told you I was taking you on a little adventure.”

Ann couldn’t have been more pleased. Time with Anthony all to herself? As far as she was concerned, the evening could go on forever.

Old King’s Highway was winding and hilly. Anthony took the curves so fast she had to hold on to the dash to keep from being thrown out of the side of the doorless car. When he descended a hill she felt the sensation of an elevator dropping down the shaft.

Just past the sleeping RVs and tents in Paine’s Campground, he switched off his lights, slowed down, and turned onto the unmarked dirt road. Ann was surprised Anthony knew about Duck Pond, a pristine kettle pond tucked into the National Seashore property. The pond was technically public but there were no signs—the locals made sure of that, removing them as quickly as the town could put them up. To get there meant following a bumpy dirt road for almost a mile, and crossing the sandy telegraph road before heading back into the woods.

Anthony expertly maneuvered over the potholes in the compacted sand. “I love it back here,” he said.

“Me too. We come here all the time.”

“See, that’s your life, and that’s beautiful. Me, I’ve got two lives. A Jaguar life and a Jeep life. A Chequessett Neck Road life and a dirt road life. Don’t get me wrong, the Jaguar life is nothing to complain about, but this? This is real. You make me feel real, Ann.”

Michael was wrong about Anthony, she thought. Here he was, opening himself up to her, revealing how conflicted he felt. He was mysterious. Interesting. Torn. And he thought enough of Ann to share those thoughts with her.

He accelerated into a dip in the road. He smiled at her. “That’s how I feel when I look at you.” He reached across her for the glove compartment.