Seasons in the Sun by Kristen Strassel Read Free Book Online

looked at him at that moment, we’d be right back where we started, so I looked up at the stars. They were even more beautiful than I ever remembered them being.
    Everything was so right, with just us sitting out here, no noise but the lapping of the waves and the beating of my heart.
    “I have to get you back,” Tristan’s voice was husky.
    The sky had brightened. I prayed it was just lights from the town and not sunrise. No one in my house waited for the sun to be up to get out of bed. I needed to be safely back in bed before anyone’s feet hit the floorboards for the day.
    We started to make our way through the sand, and back to the rocky road that led back to Beach Plum Lane. We held hands, not leaving enough space for one another.
    I wasn’t ready to part ways when we reached my porch. I don’t think Tristan was either, he took my hands and pulled me close to him.
    “Thank you,” I whispered.
    “For what?”
    “Tonight.”
    He shook his head against my forehead. “No,” he said, just as softly. “Thank you. For everything, Callie. I mean it.”
    I looked up at him, puzzled, but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what to say.
    “Will you be my date at the President’s party?”
    “Of course.”
    He squeezed my hands and leaned in for one last kiss. I could feel his smile against my lips. “Sweet dreams, Callie.”

Chapter Nine
    For the last couple of weeks, I’d been running on pure adrenaline. Tristan and I had continued our late night meetings. As much as I looked forward to slipping out at night to see him, it got harder to keep our cover by day at the restaurant. Keisha knew, I felt like I needed her in my corner just in case I made a mistake. I was more brave than lucky.
    Our timing couldn’t have been better. Mom was in full strategic mode with planning the catering for the fund raiser. She fluttered around the restaurant, making phone calls, schedules, maps, and orders. Nothing made her happier than huge contracts and politics.
    Conveniently, she hardly cared about anything I had done in over a week. I’m not going to lie, it was heaven. I wasn’t sure I had wanted to tell her about Tristan’s invitation to the party, but in retrospect, I was glad I did. I wanted to catch her before she came up with any plan of me wearing a button down white shirt and bowtie and carrying a tray of appetizers. I half expected her to tell me I couldn’t go. But instead, her reaction was one of envy and awe once she realized I was going to be at the table with President and Mrs. Obama.
    Just after lunch rush, Taryn approached me as I wiped down the sandwich area. She leaned against the counter and watched me wordlessly as I finished my task.
    “Hey,” I greeted her with more of a question. Taryn never paid much attention to me.
    “Hey,” She responded. “So I was wondering if you might want to come party dress shopping with me this afternoon? I know I have nothing to wear.”
    That was an understatement. “Yeah, that would be cool. Let me just tell my mom.”
    I knew Mom would approve, I was more hoping for extra funding. Most of my clothes came from thrift shops. The rest of them I made. I was fairly sure Marcy’s Closet on Main wouldn’t have anything worthy of a dinner with the president.
    “Thanks for thinking of me,” I said as we made our way down Main St, pacing Marcy’s and peering into windows of the shops, sizing up our options. I was familiar with all of the stores and many of their keepers who came to us for coffee and treats, but I’d never set foot inside many of them. “I am so clueless about what I should wear to this thing.”
    “No offense, but I kind of figured as much.”
    “No offense taken.” There was no shame in admitting I was out of my league.
    Taryn decided on a boutique called Seashells that had a few dinner party appropriate mannequins in the window. She dove into the racks with purpose. I wandered around the store, almost afraid to touch anything, not sure what