by Whitley Cox
I let the scaly beast go, though, and before I was able to get any pictures of myself or my catch. So, unfortunately, you’re just going to have to take my word for it. But I will tell you, the thing was a monster. Easily mistaken for a Kraken or Moby Dick by many a fisherman, I’m sure of it. And he put up a good fight, which is why I didn’t take him home and make him my dinner. The experience was enough.
This entire trip has been an experience like no other. The far corners of the globe, faraway mountaintop lodges and hotels with spa packages a mile long—I’ve visited them all. But nothing, and I mean nothing even remotely compares to the way I feel being on Moorea. To the way I feel staying at The Windward Hibiscus. I started this trip off in a bad state of mind, but now I end it with more clarity, more hope, more zest for life than I’ve ever had before. Much like my fish, I have been given a second chance, found a new lease on my life, and it’s not one I will take for granted. I now know what I want, who I am and who I want to be. I love life, I love myself, and I love that my possibilities are endless. And it’s all thanks to Moorea and The Windward Hibiscus.
Regretfully, this will be my last article for The Decadent Traveler. As much as I have enjoyed my time writing and traveling the world, I now realize what my true passion is, and I intend to pursue it.
I would like to thank everyone at The Decadent Traveler for their support, the staff and Mr. McAllister at The Windward Hibiscus for their over-the-top, gracious hospitality and, of course, you, my loyal readers, whose letters I have so very much enjoyed receiving over these past three years. I will miss those most of all.
I will leave you all with this, whether it’s just a visit to the next town over, a road trip in the car or a flight to a faraway land, never stop exploring. Never stop having fun, never stop having adventures and never stop living the life you want to live. Because we only have one, so make the most of it.
Happy trails, and don’t forget to tip housekeeping,
Parker Ryan
Pink filled his cheeks as he got to the last page, while his nostrils flared and his pupils grew dark, black invading the bright green until there was hardly any color left.
“Is this . . . is this true?” he finally asked, a croak in his voice.
“I’ve never written a lie in my life,” I said quietly.
“Am I . . . am I . . .?”
“Moorea? The Windward Hibiscus? Of course.”
“But you’ve always been so upfront about this being a ten-day fling. I didn’t think you felt the same about me as I did you. God, Parker . . . this . . . this is unlike anything you’ve written before. It’s so . . . full of heart. So full of passion. These last ten days, when I came home from your bed, I would read your articles. I’ve read everything you’ve written, even from your old online magazines and your college and high school newspapers.”
My mouth hung open. All the way back to high school?
“You’ve never written with such conviction or . . .” he trailed off.
Love. I wrote the article with love because I love you, Tate. But I couldn’t say that to him, could I?
I glanced down at my knotted fingers. “I’ve never felt this way before, and I decided to write what I feel. I wasn’t sure you felt the same, but I . . . I didn’t want to leave here without telling you.”
“I figured if you wanted more, you would have asked for it.”
“That’s not who I am, though.”
“But you asked me to fuck you in a broom closet. You asked me to stick a finger in your ass earlier on the beach. The amount of times I’ve teased you and you’ve begged and then demanded that I take you . . .” He was shaking his head, trying to figure out my words, my feelings. His words, his feelings and what they all meant. “You’re more forthright and willing to ask for what you want than you think.”
I looked him in those soulful green eyes, ready to put my heart on my sleeve. I was forthright and honest because of Tate. He’d transformed me.
Swallowing my fear, my pride, my old self, I set my jaw firm and held his gaze. “Fine, if you want me to ask, I’ll ask. I’ll ask for everything I want from now on. Ask me to stay, Tate!” I blurted out. “Ask me to stay! Let me stay with you. Let me live here. Let me be with you. I want you. I want to be with you. Not for just ten days, but for forever.”
His head snapped up from where he’d been studying the pages of my article again.
“You make me happy, too,” I said softly, bringing my voice down again. “When Dr. Sheffield asked me what made me happy? When was my happiest moment? Immediately you popped into my head. Every happy moment I’ve had this past month, hell, this past year, has been with you. I emailed my boss and quit my job. I don’t want to work there anymore. I don’t want to live in New York anymore. I want to fulfill my lifelong dream and write a book. Ask me to stay.”
He blinked at least a dozen times, his head still shaking with what could only be described as disbelief. And then the shake quickly turned into an emphatic nod, and a smile so wide, so true erupted on his face. “Stay, Parker. Stay here with me, live here with me. Be with me.”
I nodded. “Okay!”
Suddenly poor Rosie found herself knocked to the couch as Tate pulled me up to my feet, his hands on either side of my face, holding my head steady as he looked into my eyes. “I love you, Parker. You are who I’ve been waiting for.”
I blinked back at him. “I love you, too.” Biting my lip, I looked away for a second. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“But I think I want children. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching on this trip, and I realized that I want to be a mother. I want a family. I never really had one growing up. I was an only child to a teenage mom. I want a nuclear family. One with two parents and lots of kids. I never had it, and I want it.”
“How many kids do you want?”
My eyes whipped back up to his. “What?”
“How many kids do you want? I’m thinking two or four. One of each, or two boys and two girls.”
Holy shit.
His eyes were glowing, crinkling at the corners as his smile just continued to get bigger and bigger. “I want them, too. I—I was afraid of turning into my dad, but with you as the mother, I’m willing to take the risk. I want it all, Parker, and I want it all with you.”
I scanned his handsome face while my head just shook in awe. Tears of pure joy pricked the corners of my eyes, and I choked on a sob.
“Seeing my friend James and his beautiful wife, Emma, and then Justin and Kendra and their gorgeous family . . .” A warm and content smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t know how badly I wanted that, too, until I saw it. Until I met the person I wanted it with. I’ve been lonely and bored—sad, for a while—but meeting you has changed all of that.”
Now I was nodding like there was no tomorrow while tears streamed down my cheeks. He used his big thumbs to wipe them away.
“I like the idea of four,” I blubbered, the words getting strangled by my joy on the way out. “A house full of children. Busy and noisy and full of love. That’s the perfect life for me.”
He smiled. “So full of love. So perfect.”
I laughed and hiccupped at the same time. This was insane. I’d known this man for all of ten days, and here we were saying we loved each other and planning to have four children. This didn’t happen in real life, and certainly not in my life . . . did it?
“What are you going to write your book about?” he asked, his fingers weaving their way into my hair as his palms cupped my cheeks and he held my head in place, his eyes boring into mine. Claiming my soul as his.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I dunno yet. Maybe about my life and growing up back in Mississippi. Or maybe . . . maybe I’ll write about a lost thirty-something woman who finds herself on a tropical island and in bed with a sexy billionaire. Only what starts out as just a lust-fueled fling blossoms into a love like none other. She finds herself, she finds true love and her happily ever after. What
do you think? Thoughts on a title?”
He scooped me up and headed off down a hallway. “I’ve got the perfect title for you,” he said.
I wrapped my arm around his neck and kissed his chin, the beard tickling my lips. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Quick and Dirty.” He kicked open a door like a Viking and tossed me on to the bed in the dimly lit and very manly but homey bedroom. I bounced twice, staring up at him with wide eyes.
He growled. “But enough about the book.” He removed his shirt then covered me with his big body. His long, strong index finger lightly traced the letters of his name on the tops of my breasts and a small but cocky smile spread across his lips. He’d marked me. Claimed me. The Sharpie would fade but I was Tate’s forever.
“Do you still have the Sharpie in your pocket?” I asked, loving the weight of him on me.
He fished around in the deep pocket of his cargo shorts and handed it to me. “Here.”
I pulled the cap off with my teeth and brought the felt tip of the pen up to his hard, sculpted chest. Right over his heart I wrote my name: Parker Elizabeth Ryan.
His eyes were glassy as he looked down at my marking and then back up into my eyes. “And now I’m yours,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Always.”
Sobering he flashed me another dazzling smile and rotated his hips against mine. A rush of pleasure crashed into me from how good the friction felt. Even clothed the man knew exactly how to drive me wild.
“Let’s start now!” he said doing another hip swirl. I let my nails rake down the length of his back, feeling his warm skin and chiseled muscles bunch beneath my fingertips.
“Start what?” I asked breathlessly, inhaling and then squeaking when his hand made its way into my robe and up my shirt. Fingers pinched and pulled on a hard nipple, and a moan fled from my lips.
“A family.” He quickly sprung to his knees and shucked the rest of his clothes. Once he was completely naked he went to work relieving me of my robe and skimpy night dress.
“Seriously?” I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. The man was crazy.
“Yeah. Let’s start a family now. The kid’ll take nine months to cook anyway.”
To cook? I snorted a most unladylike laugh as he pinned me back down to the mattress. That decadent and manly scent of him all but poured inside me, warming the breath in my lungs and wrapping around my heart.
“But I’m on the pill.”
He paused for a second, but then his mouth started trailing its way down my chin and neck until he found a needy nipple and sucked it into his hot mouth. I wilted into his touch and brought my hand up to his chin. I wanted the beard. Always the beard. Forever the beard.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, tugging on the bud. He shrugged. “Okay, well, then, we’ll just practice. Get really good at the ‘making’ before we actually try for real. You can go off the pill next month.”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
His mouth was still bouncing back and forth between my breasts, but two devious fingers had made their way down my body and between my legs. A gasp escaped me when he plunged them inside. My body ached. Desire edged with a sharp blade of pain pulsed fiercely inside me as he crooked his fingers against my sensitive walls.
“Like a heart attack,” he said. His head popped up. “I’ll do it right if you want me to, but nothing about our start has been conventional.” Where was he going with this? His eyes grew even darker for a moment, the lids dropping to half-mast while his nostrils flared and his fingers inside me pumped. “Marry me, Parker.”
Another gasp, and not because he’d slipped in another finger.
“Marry me. Have babies with me. Make me as happy as I am now, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you just as happy.”
Oh fuck, new tears. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried this much. Grabbing him by the ears, I pulled him back up to me. His fingers slipped out, but I didn’t care. We were nose to nose. All I could see were his eyes, but of course, I saw so much more. I saw all the way to the depths of his soul and what a truly wonderful man he really was. He was excellence marbled with flaws. Intensity sheathed in elegance. Powerful and fierce and yet, at the very same time, so kind and gentle. The perfect paradox. My perfect paradox.
“Yes.” I nodded, brushing my lips across his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His scruff scratched me as he smashed his lips against mine in a need-driven kiss. When we finally came up for air, his smile took my breath away. “I love you, Parker.”
I looped one arm around his neck while the other one fell to my name over his heart. I shimmied my hips until he was nestled between them, his cock notched at my core.
“I love you, too.” I lunged at his bottom lip and tugged on it, releasing it a second later. “Besides, I pretty much have to stay here forever and marry you and have your babies. You’ve ruined me for other men anyway. I’m not sure I could ever be with a clean-shaven man again, let alone one who doesn’t fly his own helicopter, have tattoos, spear fish or scuba dive or try to make the world a better place for everyone, including the other ninety-nine percent.”
His hips lifted up, and he swirled himself around my entrance. My eyes threatened to roll into the back of my head. “I told you before, baby, once you go beard, you never go back.” And with that he took me, all of me, forever.
Epilogue
7 years later…
“Look Mommy, look! Heidi and I made a sand mermaid.” I arduously prop myself up on my elbows with a grunt to take a peek at what Ellie is pointing at. She and her sister are standing proudly over top of what appears to be a mermaid built out of sand, with shells for a bathing suit and eyes, and palm frond pieces for her hair, tail and smile. Both girls beam proudly.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, wincing slightly as I awkwardly adjust myself on the blanket.
“You okay?” Tate asks. His hand lands on my plump belly. “Whoa!”
I snort. “He’s a feisty one. Takes after his father. Hasn’t stopped kicking me all morning. I’m pretty sure he’s punishing me for that spicy chicken salad I had last night. He hates spice.”
“I don’t kick you,” Tate chuckles. “Now spank you, flog you, whip you, tie you up, that’s the kind of punishment I can get on board with. But I’ve never kicked you.”
I roll my eyes and give him a gentle nudge with my shoulder.
“Dadda.”
We both look down at the toddler in his lap, his chubby little limbs stretching as he groggily wakes up from an impromptu cat-nap. Oh, man, what I would give to be able to just conk out at any given moment, but getting comfortable these days is proving to be a challenge.
Tate plants a kiss on Garon’s forehead and brushes his ruddy bangs off his face. “Hey, buddy. You feeling better after your snooze?”
Garon reaches up and grabs his father’s nose. “Daddy’s nose.”
I snicker as Tate tries to crane his neck away and dodge the curious fingers. For some reason, the child is obsessed with sticking his fingers up everyone’s nose. If they’re not up his nose, they’re trying to explore someone else’s.
Two pairs of tanned, spindly legs run forward kicking up sand, both dripping wet. I look up and shield my eyes from the sun to find the girls, six and four, staring back at me with big smiles and bright eyes. They’re perfect. Ellie, the oldest, is just like Tate. Same green eyes, same dark brown hair colored with streaks of sunshine; same dominating, bossy personality. Your typical firstborn, I’m told. But she has his heart as well, and it’s so full and so beautiful, and the way she cares for her siblings and loves them unconditionally makes my own heart melt. Then there’s Heidi, our sweet and quiet little gem. With my hair and Tate’s eyes, she’s the perfect blend. The peacekeeper and quintessential middle child. She idolizes her big sister and has already decided that she’s a vegetarian. Heidi wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone eat a chicken nugget. And at almost two, Garon is my dopp
elganger. Blue eyes, red hair and a stubborn streak that makes me want to pull my hair out at least once a day. But he’s so full of life and such a quirky little thing that you can’t help but ruffle his hair and smile when he sticks his finger up his nose and gives you that look, before he starts to belly laugh because he knows he’s doing something he shouldn’t.
“Who do you think this one is going to look like?” Tate asks, handing Garon a piece of banana and then setting his son on his own two feet.
“I think he’s going to look like me,” Ellie says, accepting the big piece of mango her father offers her.
“I think he’s going to look like a baby,” Heidi puts in. She shakes her head when Tate offers her a piece of banana. “Pineapple please, Daddy.” Ah, a girl after my own heart.
Tate and I start to laugh.
“Yes, you’re probably right. He will look like a baby. But we’re more wondering who he will resemble more once he loses his baby look. You guys used to look like babies, but now you look like kids. Will he look more like Mommy or Daddy?” Tate says, making room for Heidi on the blanket next to him.
Ellie comes over and squeezes in next to me. Her hand rests on my belly. “How much longer, Mummy?”
“About eight weeks,” I say.
“And then we’ll have another baby brother?”
I nod. “Yep, and then we’ll have two boys and two girls.”
Tate grins at me before he takes a bite of pineapple. I pick up my own wedge and take a nibble. Thank God this kiddo tolerates pineapple; I hadn’t been able to stomach the fruit when I’d been pregnant with Garon. Pretty much since the moment of conception, even a glimpse or mere thought of my favorite fruit had made me taste bile.
“Two boys and two girls, just like we’d planned,” my dashing husband says.
“You planned us?” Heidi asks innocently.
“We certainly did.” Tate chuckles. “From the moment I saw your mommy, I knew I wanted to have babies with her. And I knew they’d be the most beautiful babies in the whole wide world. So I figured, why not make a bunch of them? We thought about two, but when we saw how gorgeous you two angels are, we figured we pretty much had to keep making more beautiful babies.”
