Page 9 of All I Desire

What will his lips feel like? They look soft. A faint hum vibrates in my throat. He inhales sharply.

“Okay, Matt and Nat! That’s enough here by the car. Let’s get to the beach for the picnic.”

Nina’s loud voice startles me into wide-eyed shock, and somehow, I lose my footing. Jesus, it’s not like I’m in heels. I’m wearing boots. I practically topple into Matthew’s chest and he catches me by the arms.

“Uh, sorry.” I straighten my spine and regain my footing. “I just learned to walk.”

He laughs as we follow Nina to the sand. It’s a nervous laugh, our chemistry and spell broken. Crap.

Nina’s assistant is arranging a wicker picnic basket on a massive, round, black-and-white checkered beach blanket, and she steps aside. Nina waves us toward the blanket. “Have at it. There’s champagne and other stuff in the basket. Just ignore me. Oh, and hold hands while you walk to the blanket.”

I glance at Matthew and he cocks an eyebrow. There’s something about him that’s a little rakish, yet he still seems very down-to-earth. It’s endearing. He extends his arm, seeking my hand.

With my ridiculous dress flapping around my bare legs, I slip my hand into his. He takes it confidently and threads his fingers through mine. The sun is about a half-hour from setting and the entire beach is bathed in a lazy, soft, orange glow.

“You have a little hand,” he says, squeezing mine. “And little feet. Even in combat boots.”

“You like my fashion choice? I thought the boots went well with my dress. Well, it’s not my dress. It’s my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s dress. She made me wear it.”

“She made you, did she? So, you don’t normally look like a dystopian princess?”

We’re at the beach blanket now, and I let go of his hand and plop down. “Nope. I’m normally much more sedate. Today seemed to call for theatrics, though. Don’t you think?”

My hands go to my feet, ready to untie my boots. He sinks to his knees onto the blanket.

“Excellent choice. Now, for the benefit of the camera, may I…” He reaches for the laces and I pull my hands away.

“Sure,” I shrug, leaning back on my hands.

Nina clicks away as he carefully unties my black boots, setting one aside, then the other.

“Nice socks. Oh, they have words on them. What do they say?” He takes my foot into his big hands and gently turns it. His skin is a wonderful bronze-olive, and I wonder if he’s Italian — he has a similar complexion to my nonno on Ma’s side, who was from Sicily.

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?”

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