by Tamara Lush
I flex and point my toes, which are covered in colorful, floral patterned socks.
“I’m a delicate”—he rotates my foot so he can read the words creeping around my ankle—“fucking flower.”
He looks up and laughs while releasing my limb. “You’re something else.”
I shrug, bend toward my feet, and strip off the socks. Ahhh. That feels nice, my bare feet in the air. The boots weren’t the best idea. A brief worry of whether my feet smell crosses my mind, but I did put those odor things in my boots just yesterday. And it’s not that hot. Why do I keep reminding myself of that?
Oh, probably because my insides feel like they’re on fire around this guy.
Nina leaps around the blanket, capturing our every expression.
“And you? You have to be a little something else too, to do this.” I stuff my socks in my boots. “Are you going to open the picnic basket, or—oh! You’re already a step ahead of me.”
“I don’t turn down free food. Learned that when I was a pilot.” He opens the basket. “Ahh, she bought the good stuff.”
He extracts a bottle of Veuve Cliquot from an insulated holder and I move closer to him. Learned that as a pilot. Interesting.
“Sweet. Is that a sandwich?” I ask.
He lays a wrapped sandwich from the Square Grouper on the blanket. Score! Even if Matthew weren’t so handsome, this day would be worth it just for the sandwich. He extracts more goodies out of the basket. “And crackers and cheese and…cookies…and some plates and stuff.”
“It’s weird, how comfortable I feel with you. Even though Nina taking pictures of us every second. You fly planes? Or did fly planes?”
“Still do. Used to fly for Delta. What do you do? Do you see any cups in there?”
“I’m not against drinking from the bottle.” I glance at him holding the champagne and laugh at his slightly shocked expression. “Kidding! Yeah, here are the glasses. I do two things. I help my family run the Paradise Beach Resort and have my own business, too.”
He looks up from the bottle with an eager expression of recognition. “I’ve driven by that place. Looks really old and cool, with the pink stucco.”
“Oldest resort on the island. 1926 Mediterranean Revival.”
“You sound proud of it.”
“I am. My parents bought it in the early eighties. Now my brother and I run it.”
“Nice. And what’s your other business? You said you do two things.”
“Oh. I design jewelry.” I press my hand to my throat, touching the cool metal of my necklace. “This is one of mine.”
He tilts his head and I rise up on my knees so he can get a better look. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
My heart feels like it’s racing, for some reason. I sit back down, feeling a bit lightheaded. “What about you? What brought you to Paradise Beach? Or do you even live here?”
“I just moved to the island. I lived over on the other coast in Fort Lauderdale for several years. Took a buyout from the airline. I bought the helicopter tour business at the airport. Found a house a couple of weeks ago. Now, all I need to do is bring my daughter over and get her enrolled in school.”
No way. He’s here, with me, like this, and he’s probably married? Just my luck. A chill washes over me. “Oh. So you’re married?”
He twists the wire on the champagne neck. “Divorced. I have primary custody of our daughter. We’re doing it that way because my ex recently got a promotion. She’s a pilot, too.”
I nod slowly. Hmm. My earlier inner thoughts about him being a daddy now seem stupid and juvenile because he’s a real dad. My stomach sinks at the news.
I don’t much like kids. The only children I’ve been exposed to were my twin brothers, Remy and Damien. An image of the two of them as seven-year-olds, dipping my toothbrush in the toilet, comes to mind.
Maybe that explains my stance on kids. Gah. I’ve never dated a single father before. Okay, I haven’t dated anyone in a long while. A couple of years. The last guy I dated, a local bartender, was nice enough. But he left because he’d gotten accepted into grad school in New York, and the relationship sputtered and died.
Wait. This isn’t a date. Matt and I aren’t dating. We’re not even talking about dating. We’re on a fake picnic. I steal a grape from the plastic package, feeling like a lunatic.
“How old’s your daughter? What’s her name?”
“Chloe. She’s ten, going on thirty.” He grins. “I’ll show you a picture later. Let’s get this open.”
I chew on the grape and grab the plastic glasses, eager to switch the conversation back to adult topics and flirtation.
He pops the cork and it goes flying in Nina’s direction. I let out a little whoop and she dodges it. “Love the emotion!” she cries. “Let’s get a little more intense.”
My entire body flashes hot. What does she mean by that, exactly? Ten minutes ago, we almost kissed. Kissing a single dad seems like such an adult thing to do. Possibly inappropriate, because I’ve known him for three seconds.
But I really want to kiss him.
Matt pours the bubbly into our glasses, then sits alarmingly close next to me. “Cheers,” he says.
“To strangers.” I hold up my glass and smile. “Do we look like a champagne ad?”
“We do.”
We tap our glasses and take long sips. Okay, both of us guzzle the liquid. He pours us each another glass, and we gulp those, too.
Then we stare at each other, a mixture of wariness and sexual tension hanging in the sunset-hued air. Jesus, his eyes practically glow a colorless grey against the sunset.
“Your eyes are an unusual color. What’s your heritage?” I blurt.
“Italian. Last name’s Mancini. You? What’s your last name?”
“Hastings. I’m part Italian. And Scottish. And Puerto Rican.”
“Scottish, Italian, Puerto Rican. That’s an excellent mix.”
“Yeah, some people don’t believe I’m part Puerto Rican. Because I’m blonde. So that can get weird.” I eye him, wondering if he’s going to say something stupid or fall back on some stereotype. Or ask me to speak Spanish. I hold my breath.
“I’ll bet it does, because people are uninformed. But it’s not that unusual, a blonde Latina. There are plenty.” He shrugs.
I let out my breath and when I’m about to reach for the champagne, Nina’s voice cuts through the air.
“Enough talking. Let’s try getting a little closer, like you were by the wagon,” Nina hollers, her voice mixing with the surf.
I scoot in to him, feeling his warmth. “Are people staring at us?”
“Do you care?” He grins.
“Not one bit.” As if it has a mind of its own, my hand sets the empty champagne glass down. It topples over onto the blanket, and my hand finds its way to his chest. I can feel the hard muscles underneath his shirt. What am I doing? He’s a parent. He’s a stranger.
He’s cupping my jaw and pressing those full, sensual lips of his to mine…
Chapter Four
NATALIA
Matthew is a solid kisser. No, a pretty great kisser. He lightly bites my bottom lip and a zing of need shoots through me. I moan and he smiles against my mouth, a sexy little move. He captures my lips again.
Scratch that. He’s an amazing kisser. This long kiss is making my entire body short circuit; my heart’s pumping and I’m actively sweating. I must be a mess, but I don’t care. I need more of his yummy lips.
And when a little, soft grunt-growl comes from his throat?
I die.
He breaks away, his hand still holding my face, and pauses against my mouth. We’re both trying, and failing, to catch our breath.
“Wow. This is really weird, isn’t it?” he asks.
“Um, yeah. Although I’m not sure what’s weirder. That you just kissed me, that we just met, or that I want to kiss you again.” I laugh and rub my nose against his, then pull back to look at him.
“Another kiss it is.”
He leans in and our lips slide lazily against one another’s. Now I wish we weren’t at the beach, surrounded by people.
Pausing, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know, if you were a vegetable, you’d be a cutecumber.”
I dissolve into giggles and fold over into a groan at the same time. Normally, I hate that kind of gooey romantic stuff, but probably because of that scorching kiss and the champagne, or the fact that I’ve landed in a parallel universe, I seem to have turned into a living, breathing can of Cheez Whiz.
When I sit up, he’s holding a plastic glass of bubbly out for me.
“Thanks. I’m really thirsty.” I take it and guzzle the cool bubbly. He does the same. I meet his gaze, then look away. Eek. There’s a distinct awkwardness in the air now. Well, awkwardness and a heavy aura of lust. The way it feels, things could go either way in the next hour. One of us might run screaming from this beach, or we might put on a live sex show in public. There doesn’t seem to be much middle ground.
“Matthew?” Nina’s voice wafts toward us, and we look in her direction. She points with her finger, then flicks upward. “Can you take off your shirt, like we talked about?”
I look at him and raise my eyebrows. “Yikes,” I say weakly.
That sizzling sound is my skin, catching on fire. I swallow hard as I watch him grin, rise to his knees, and strip off his black T-shirt.
Dear God. His skin is a perfect light bronze shade, like maybe he mows the lawn without a shirt.
His shoulders and pecs are muscular. He doesn’t quite have six-pack abs; they’re tight, but not sculpted. The best description I can think of is High Quality Dad Bod.
“That kind of escalated quickly, didn’t it?” I pour myself more champagne in an attempt to not stare at his biceps. Or that faint trail of hair starting in the vicinity of his bellybutton.
He shifts so he’s sitting next to me. We’re both facing the sunset, and the orange glow is simply perfect on his handsome face. His eyes glitter in the light. You’d think that being so gray and colorless, they’d be cold, but they’re not. Instead, they’re a warm, liquid silver, a hue I’d love to bottle and turn into metal for one of my necklaces.
Nina’s circling us, snapping photos like a maniac from all angles.
“It sure did.”
We watch the sun inch toward the horizon in silence. All that exposed skin of his makes me want to paw him.
“She’s extremely thorough, isn’t she?” My eyes go to Nina. “I wonder if the photos will be nice, or if they’ll be strange.”
“I admire her energy. And I’m sure they’ll be beautiful, because you’re in them.”
I roll my eyes and laugh.
“Too much?” he asks, grinning.
“Almost.” Still, I love the compliment. It’s been a long while since I’ve been with a man, period. Online dating doesn’t really count, because half the time the guy stands me up — and the other half, the guy’s weird and nasty. What I’ve shared with Matthew in an hour has been more interesting and genuine than any Tinder date I’ve ever been on.
He puts his wide hand over mine. “Lightning round.”
“Hunh?” Do not stare at his bellybutton. So inappropriate, Natalia.
But his hair there is so downy and soft looking. I rake in a breath.
“Lightning round. I fire off questions and you answer the first thing that comes to mind. Then you do the same to me.”
Ooh, I love games involving surprise and randomness. “Okay. Shoot. Wait. Do we alternate? Or do we each ask a certain number of questions?”
“How about I ask five and you ask five?”
I mull this while sipping champagne. This is a good diversion from his sexy body. “Okay. Fair. Go.”
“What did you want to be while growing up?”
“A famous artist and a soldier of fortune,” I say.
He busts out laughing. “How long does it take you to get ready?”
“About five minutes, if Lauren isn’t around.”
“Who’s Lauren?”
“My sister-in-law to be. The one who gave me this dress. Was that one of your questions?”
“No. Let’s make it six.” He squeezes my hand. “Favorite place, other than Paradise Beach?”
I pause. “New Mexico.”
“Good choice. Beautiful country out there. Favorite junk food?”
“Sour gummy worms.”
He frowns. “Not bears?”
“No. Worms.”
That seems to stump him into silence. “Okay. One more. Are you dating, married, attached?”
I push my shoulder into his, loving the warmth of his skin. I nudge him. “Of course not. This would all be pretty awkward if I was.”
He tilts his head, and I tilt mine. We smooch softly. What is going on here? This is like the weirdest blind date I’ve ever been on. Although with my dating history, it’s not a surprise that the best blind date would also be the weirdest.
“Okay, now you ask the questions,” he murmurs in a low voice.
“Is it wrong for a vegetarian to eat animal crackers?”
He lets his head fall back and laughs. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Okayyyy, fine,” I say chidingly. “Tell that to the lions. Next question: Do you snore?”
He rights his head and a cocky expression takes over his face. “Maybe you can find that out some night.”
My skin flares, and my face is probably the color of my dress. “Right. Yes. Um. That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Okay. Question three. Do you believe in fate?”
“Obviously.”
Hmm. He’s answering in all the right ways. “If you could push a button and everyone on earth would be seven percent happier, but we all had to give up deodorant, would you push it?”
“Whoa. This is a tough one.” He gazes to the horizon and frowns. “I’m going to have to say yes. I think a stinky world is a good tradeoff for a happier world.”
“Reasonable. Anything to keep people from being assholes, I’m on board with. Is there any water in that basket?” I toss back my millionth glass of champagne while he looks in the basket.
“We’re in luck,” he says, cracking open the bottle. I clap excitedly as he pours.
“Okay. Another question. I get six. Would you rather be face to face with a baby rhino or a giant cockroach? Both are having rotten days.”
He twists his mouth and tilts his head to his ear. “How giant of a roach?”
“Like bigger than anything in Florida. Like dog-sized. And he’s got a pen and is about to shank you.”
Matthew’s cracking up now. “Eww. Where do you get these things? Baby rhino, without a doubt. They’re kind of cute.”
“Okay, one more. How many people are in your family, and do you like them?”
He smiles. “That’s two questions, but I’ll let it slide. Well, there’s my daughter. I definitely like her. Then there’s my sister, our mom, my stepdad, and my half-brother. I mostly like them, in that order. Sometimes a couple of them can be difficult. Ah, my dad died when I was young, so five immediate family members. A bunch of cousins, too. They’re in Wisconsin. They’re quite likeable.”
I nod thoughtfully. I have another question — do you believe in love at first sight — but I’m pretty sure that’s not the thing to ask right now.
“You look like you’re going to ask something else,” he says.
How perceptive he is. “Yeah. Can I have another kiss?” I grin and bite my bottom lip.
“Absolutely, cutie.” He takes my chin in his hand and pulls my lip out of my teeth. Then he leans in and puts his mouth to mine. His clean soap smell washes over me and I swoon.
This time, there’s tongue. “Ohh, wow, you are a good kisser,” I whisper. “Did you win kissing competitions or something?”
“Fort Lauderdale kissing champ, five years in a row.”
“Really?” My eyes widen.
“No,” he laughs. “Bu
t maybe that’s another promo opportunity for the Paradise Beach Tourism board. A kissing contest.”
“That seems like it could open up a huge can of consent worms. But if you entered, I’d be first in line.”
“You have an interesting way of phrasing things.”
“Maybe. Back to us, though. It’s odd, I don’t even care that Nina’s taking pictures.” I put my hand on his knee. Better than mauling his bare chest. “And I think the sunset is about to happen.”
“Who’s Nina and what’s a sun?” he murmurs against my mouth, then devours me some more.
We kiss like this for a solid few minutes, my insides growing molten and creamy. What’s the etiquette here? Ask him back to my place? Jump him in the car?
The sound of someone insistently clearing a throat jars me out of my erotic kiss bubble. I break away and snap open my eyes — only to see four people in giant hats and sunglasses standing about twenty feet away, staring at us.
“Oh shit. My friends are here.” I make a shoo, shoo motion at them with my hand. “Lord, did they think they’d be undercover in those getups?”
Lauren’s in a hot pink beach dress and wheat-colored hat. Kate’s in the exact same outfit, which is weird. Leilani, who is wearing some sort of aqua sarong and a matching hat, points to Matthew, then gives me a grin and two thumbs up. Shameless, that girl.
“Where? Oh. There. Is that a dog with them? In sunglasses?”
For the first time, I notice that Isabella, who is wearing a white straw hat, huge black sunglasses, and a white beach cover up, is holding Chunky, who is, indeed, wearing black sunglasses. I wince.
“Yeah, that’s my brother’s dog. Notice how everyone on the beach is staring at them and not us? Freaks.”
Matthew chuckles. “That’s kind of sweet, they’ve come to check up on you.”
I scowl and wave them off. We watch as they walk to Nina and surround her. She pets Chunky as they all chat.
“They are checking up on you, right? Or do you think they’re here for a reason? Is something wrong?”
I sigh. “No. Nothing’s wrong. They’re just being nosy. They’re like that. They also have a love of the absurd.”
