Kiss Me at Sunset

By Laura M. Baird

Michelle Bosak is finding her way in life again at age fifty after being widowed for over a year. She's always had an adventurous side, but entering a wet t-shirt contest amongst twenty-somethings? Sure, why not. It was harmless fun. She never factored in the instant electric attraction to the sexy mountain of a man acting as bouncer in the contest. And then to discover he's a talented musician who makes her heart yearn again? Yeah, the night just got a lot more interesting.

 

Xander Phillips enjoys playing music with his band, helping his sister at her bar, and living life freely on his terms. But one look at the hot little woman on stage has him all out-of-sorts. He can't resist staring at her gorgeous body, touching her flawless skin, and finding a way to learn all there is to know about her.

 

When the night goes from get-to-know-you conversation to a round of sex that's hotter than the Florida sun, will these seemingly opposites—who discover they have much in common—make room in their lives for more?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura M. Baird
• Release date: Oct 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201510176

Laura M. Baird

An avid reader-turned-writer, I've also worked over seventeen years as a dental hygienist. I'm thrilled to see my dreams come to life, and hope to provide readers with many more years of sensual romance filled with laughter, maybe a few tears, and always a happily-ever-after. Married over twenty-six years to my own stud, we've raised two wonderful sons, enjoy the beauty of the Northwest, and proudly cheer on our Boise State Broncos. When not staying active and juggling multiple tasks, I'm consuming plenty of great reads.

Book preview

Chapter One

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Michelle

Michelle! You can’t be serious?

Why the hell not? I laugh. Aren’t I perky enough to compete with those girls? Just to prove my point, I shimmy my chest, causing my natural C-cups to bounce around in front of my friend, Stacy. My boobs may have lost a little of their height but at least they aren’t hanging down to my waist. Or jacked up right underneath my chin like some of the women who go all out trying to defy Mother Nature. Stacy, who continues to stare with wide-eye horror, spins to look at those girls lining up on stage. She then scans the crazed crowd before zeroing back on me, pushing up her glasses that are teetering on the edge of her nose.

But, but, you’re old enough to be their mother, heck, maybe even their gr—

Don’t you damn dare say it! Dani, my other friend, yells to be heard over the increasing shouts and whistles coming from the rowdy bunch of guys pushing their way toward the front. She then turns me around and starts twisting my t-shirt into a knot behind my back. My breasts have already been unleashed from the confines of my bra and are about to be entered in a wet t-shirt contest. Oh yeah, along with the rest of me as well.

Am I drunk? Hardly. I save my calories for what’s truly important – chocolate! I never need liquor to have a good time.

Am I crazy? Nah. I’m known for my adventurous streak, telling my friends it’s what keeps us young. Most never guess I’m fifty, which is often flattering. It’s when someone nearly half my age starts hitting on me that it can get a little awkward. While most guys blush and move on, there have been a few persistent enough to warrant pulling out the mom card. Not that I’m a mom but being around Daniella Dani Rodriguez and her five kids has given me plenty of know-how in that department.

As for Stacy, who is also childless, and shy, and too close to being uptight at the moment, receives a wink from me while I try to encourage her to let loose a little. Not that I expect her to loosen up to my level tonight. No, this crazy spontaneity is all me, for me. We practically had to drag her along with us on our lady's night out. And if anyone could use it, it’s her. She’s recently divorced, even though her marriage had been in shambles for some time now. I’d bluntly told her it should’ve happened long ago, but everyone has their own timetable when it comes to personal realizations.

This, I know.

Unfortunately, it took her witnessing first-hand what a shit-bag cheater her husband had been. Good riddance. Now Dani and I are slowly convincing Stacy to start living the way she wants to, which includes plenty of girl-time we’d been missing out on.

Dani, Stacy, and I are locals to the greater Highland Beach area here in Florida. Our outings lately had been limited to the occasional Saturday lunch dates and shopping trips, but this Saturday night was all about barhopping to check out the Summer Music Fest. Lucky for Dani, her husband, Dom is a sweetheart and knew we needed this time together.

Local bars stretching from Boca Raton up to Delray Beach always have musical events throughout the year, but the Music Fest had become a major annual event leading up to the Fourth of July. This particular program started five years ago with places hosting musical groups consisting of both locally and nationally known artists. There are always drink and dinner specials to lure patrons, along with side events like karaoke, wet t-shirt contests, and a barbeque cook-off.

Kevin James, Adam Sandler, and Anjelah Johnson are even scheduled to perform tomorrow night before the fireworks extravaganza in Delray Beach. Kevin has a place there, Adam has a place in Highland Beach, and Anjelah’s husband, Manwell Reyes has family ties in Orlando. I don’t tend to get star-struck, what with celebrities around this area being a common occurrence, but those three are among my favorites, and if I ever have the chance to meet them, I hope I’ll have the wherewithal to maintain my composure.

When my husband, Stuart, was alive, we went to the inaugural Music Fest event and happened to see Michael Jordan and Howard Stern hanging out. Which was cool and all, but, eh, I wasn’t overjoyed with excitement as others had been. The following year, we joined friends at the event, enjoying three nights of eclectic music, feasting, and frolicking. After that, Stuart hadn’t accompanied me again, saying he’d lost interest, but insisted I go and have fun. I had, feeling guilty at first for enjoying without him, but then realized it was okay to have different tastes.

His death last spring had kept me from going the previous year. Hell, his death had kept me from doing pretty much anything for nearly six months.

Stuart may have been ten years my senior, but he was as healthy as could be. Or so we thought. He was a physician for chrissake and knew how to take care of himself and others! There was never any indication, any warning that he had underlying heart problems. The aortic aneurysm that took his life had been a wake-up call that you never knew when life would throat punch you.

After cursing the universe then mourning my loss, I dragged myself out of my funk and decided to live every moment to the fullest. Initially I went a little to the extreme and it took my friends’ loving counsel for me to realize there was a balance. I mean, rationally, logically, I knew better, but my heart, my soul hadn’t listened at the time. And now more than a year later, I think I’ve finally found my equilibrium.

Well, if you don’t count this spur-of-the-moment, am-I-really-about-to-do-this stunt. But hey, variety is the spice of life and all that jazz, right?

Yesterday we concentrated on Boca Raton so tonight we hit up a few places on the mainland in our area. The first stop had featured a local group I’d heard before, so we stayed and enjoyed a set of their Rockabilly tunes. Dani and I even managed to get Stacy up on the perimeter of the dance floor for a few songs. Moving on, we didn’t stay long at the second bar that had a New-Pop vibe going on. I mean, I love all kinds of music, but I can do without the teeny-bopper music that Dani’s oldest daughter of fifteen covets.

After making our way up to Delray Beach and crossing East Atlantic Avenue, I insisted we make a stop where I indulged in a decadent ice cream covered chocolate fudge treat. Dani and Stacy also enjoyed something yummy before we moved on to our current location, a place called The Dive Bar. They have an inside area with décor associated with scuba diving, including a stunning mural on one wall depicting a gorgeous underwater scene. Pictures of divers decorate the walls, making me wonder if they’re of the owners and/or friends. The outside venue has a separate bar and sound system which is playing 80s Rock, allowing us to belt out every tune while shaking our groove-thang. The patrons are quite the mix from younger college-aged to those well within our age group of late forties, early fifties, and others clearly in their sixties and seventies. Stacy and I are the same age at fifty, and even though Dani is forty-eight, she had still been in our graduating class due to her smarts. She started school early at the age of four and jumped ahead in classes at the beginning of middle school.

All right, ladies! Let’s do this!

The announcer’s booming voice has Dani focusing on the final touches to my preparedness. Really, all she had to do was finagle the t-shirt since my arms can’t reach around to my backside in order to cinch the garment high enough. I’m wearing denim shorts that more than adequately cover my rear, unlike many of the younger gals whose ass cheeks are playing peek-a-boo with the world. My sandals are cute yet practical with a non-slip sole, but I kick those off—the sandals, not the shorts—and hand them to Stacy. She stashes them in her bag along with my phone wallet.

Michelle, are you sure about this? Stacy asks again. I mean, really, I can already see your breasts through your shirt, and when it gets wet, I mean… what if there are people out there who know you? What are they going to think? Her voice climbs half an octave with each sentence.

"That she’s a smoking hot babe at fifty and those chicas can only hope they’ll be as fabulous when they reach that age? Is that what you mean? Dani winks at Stacy who huffs before giving Dani the stink-eye. Come on, Stace, lighten up, honey. So what if she wants to show off her ta-tas. It’s not like these people don’t know what a set of boobs look like. She’s the fittest person I know with you coming in second, so let her be proud of what she has."

Uh, ladies, I’m right here, ya know. I turn to Dani. "And thank you for the complement, but I’m not the only smoking hot babe, chica. You can give this crowd a run for their money."

Yeah, she scoffs, well this crowd ain’t ready for all these curves. She wiggles her body in a little cha-cha move that has me laughing and Stacy smiling.

And you, I say to Stacy. You could proudly show off your assets, Miss CrossFit Queen.

Even in the dim light of where we’re standing, I can still see Stacy’s blush. It was only three months ago that she got dragged to a gym by her brother after being in her own funk after her divorce. She quickly fell in love with the fitness craze, taking to it like a kitten to its momma’s tit, drinking in every ounce of knowledge dealing with the body’s physiology, mechanics, and nutrition. My attempts at convincing her to join me for activities including yoga—which I teach—fell on deaf ears. Guess I should’ve tried the strong-arm technique her brother had. That aside, Dani and I are just happy to have our friend back.

I realize it is way too soon to expect any crazy antics