Delicious Do-Over

“I’m paying,” she said.

He frowned at her. “No, you aren’t.”

“It’s fair. You bought our drinks at the bar.”

“Not gonna happen.” He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket.

The cashier scanned the last item, and Lindsey stubbornly was about to give the woman her debit card when Rick tossed a large box of condoms onto the counter.

“Could you get that, too,” he told the woman.

Lindsey froze, her gaze glued to the box. The really, really big box.

The cashier obliged him, then gave Rick a total, for which he handed her cash.

She felt like an idiot. No reason a grown woman should be embarrassed about buying condoms, but at a grocery store? Come on. The stooped Asian lady waiting in line behind them had to be older than Lindsey’s grandmother.

“Hey.” Rick picked up their two bags. “Did you want to get those sunglasses? I’m sorry I didn’t see them in your hands.”

“They aren’t right for me,” she said, hastily putting them back in their slot, and then leading him out of the store.

When they got to his Jeep, he carefully stowed the groceries on the floor in the back, while she slid into the passenger’s seat and buckled herself in. He climbed in behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine.

“I embarrassed you back there. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, all innocence, and felt the heat rise from her neck to her face.

Rick chuckled, snatched her hand and pressed a quick kiss on the back of it before starting the engine. “We have to hurry or we’ll miss the best part of the sunset.”

After about ten minutes, they drove through a residential area where the houses were huge and spread out on mammoth lots, and reminded Lindsey of the mansions that once lorded over old sugar plantations.

They hadn’t gone far when Rick pulled off and drove them down a short gravel road and parked. On the right there was a small shabby house, to the left nothing but scrub brush and tall graceful palms swaying in the stiff ocean breeze. Before them lay a field of grass that butted up to a sandy beach.

He hopped out of the Jeep and pocketed the keys. “I’ll get the food. You take the mat and towels.”

“Isn’t this private property?”

“Nope. Public access to the beach.”

She came around the back of the car. There was no trunk, and she spotted the rolled-up straw mat and a couple of towels stashed on the backseat. She saw he kept a small cooler there, too, and watched as he dumped in a bag of ice he’d bought. With swift efficiency, he packed in cans of cola and beer, and then laid the cheese and fruit on top. He left the warm ready-made items and box of crackers in the paper sacks, and then handed her the mat and towels.

“I can handle the bag, too,” she said, and grabbed the handles when she saw that he’d planned on balancing it on top of the cooler chest.

“Thanks, we’re not going far.” His hands full, he used his knee to shut the door, and her gaze automatically drifted to the ridge of muscle that went up his thigh and disappeared under his shorts. “Ready?”

She cleared her throat and promptly lifted her gaze. “Yep.”

They got to the grass where there was an actual path to follow to a long stretch of solitary beach. In the distance, one hotel after another loomed against the dusky sky. To the right, toward the center of the island, white and gray clouds shrouded the tops of huge green mountains.

“Do those look like rain clouds to you?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. If it does come down, the rain will stay close to the mountains. We’re going this way,” he said, gesturing to their left. “Toward Diamond Head.”

Up this close, the crater wasn’t as visible as it was from the hotel, but she’d been curious about it since her first trip. “How did it get its name?”

“Diamond Head? I think it dates back to the eighteen hundreds. British sailors mistook the crystals embedded in the rocks for diamonds. The ancient Hawaiians called it Leahi, but nowadays everybody refers to it as Diamond Head.”

“What does Leahi mean?”

“The ‘ahi’ part means tuna. Some local people will swear it means brow of the tuna, others say it’s the fin of the tuna.” He shrugged. “You can’t tell from here, but it looks like a fin to me.”

She watched him take a lingering look, as if he never got tired of the scene. “You really love it here.”

“I like the people, and to me there’s no better surfing than on the North Shore. But I still get rock fever between trips to the mainland.”

“I’ve heard the term before, not sure what it means.”

“Nothing changes. The weather is pretty much the same year round, except for the rainier months. I’m used to the leaves changing color in October, the first snowfall, skiing, all that seasonal stuff.”

“Yeah, by January I’m complaining about the cold but I’d miss the change of seasons, too.” She squinted at the expanse of beach ahead of them, wishing she’d bought the darn sunglasses. “How far are we going?”

“Almost there.”

She honestly didn’t see the difference between one spot to the next. Once they’d made it past the grassy field there was nothing but sand and scrub. But she said nothing when he kept walking. After a few more yards and he stopped, gazed out at the water and then kicked away some branches before setting down the cooler.

“This particular spot reserved for you?” she asked with a grin.

“You’ll thank me in a few minutes.” He took the bag from her and set it on top of the cooler before shaking out the straw mat, something that seemed to be a tourist staple.

Lindsey frowned, curious as to what he meant. While he laid out one of the beach towels, she scanned the horizon. A large ship that she’d assumed was on the move had actually anchored. Their opportunity to see the sun sinking out of view could have been ruined depending on where they’d chosen to plant themselves.

Rick lifted the cooler onto the corner of the mat, and then spread out one of the beach towels. She should have offered to help instead of staring, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The fluid ripple of muscle in his legs and arms as he moved held her captive. She hadn’t thought it possible, but Rick was better looking than she’d remembered.

She moistened her suddenly parched lips, her gaze sweeping the beach. Anticipation with a dash of apprehension swirled like freshly churned butter inside her.

It seemed she had him all to herself.

3

RICK FINISHED SETTING UP, then looked up at Lindsey. She hadn’t moved, just stood there quietly staring at him. He had no idea what was going through her head. Except that she seemed to have drifted off into another world, maybe another time. Like to that night six years ago when they had lain naked in the moonlight, kissing, making love, whispering secrets.

He had trouble not going there himself. Hard to do since it was way up there on the memorable-nights scale. Her blond hair was slightly shorter now, but still long enough that he itched to see it tousled and tumbling over her shoulders as she straddled him, rode him until he couldn’t hold back another second.

Not until she blinked and looked away did it occur to him that he was staring, too.

“Is this beach always so quiet?” she asked, gazing toward the ocean.

“I wish.” He got to his feet. “At one time only the locals knew about it. But most of the houses around here are rentals now so that increased the tourist traffic.”