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I know her smile is stunning, and her eyes sparkle when she speaks about books, animals, or her close friends.
She works from home, writing. She prefers quiet and solitude over big crowds. She likes crossword puzzles but hates sudoku. She’d rather order takeout than cook. She’s hiked a bunch of mountains back east.
She hasn’t traveled much. This is her first time on an island.
“What time is it, anyway?” she murmurs, twisting to grab her handbag off the back of her chair. She rummages inside and comes out with her phone. “Oh, my goodness... Nine o’clock already. And we didn’t even get photos yet!”
Her soft laughter lets me know she’s not at all upset.
She had as much fun as I did, lingering here.
“Okay, are you ready?” She hops out of her seat and positions herself by the rope barrier designating the restaurant’s end. “Let’s get the moon in there. It’s perfect because if I send these out tonight, they’ll be on my mom’s phone when she wakes up.”
I step in beside her.
I promised charm. That was back before I knew just how easy it would be, to act the part of this woman’s boyfriend.
It feels way too good to put my arm around her shoulder. Heat buzzes through my veins when we get our cheeks to touch. I have to crouch, and she’s up on her tiptoes. She holds the phone out as far as she can.
Her skin’s delightfully warm and carries the scent of coconuts. I feel her cheek move as she smiles.
“A few more…” Her thumb works the phone expertly. She clicks away.
I don’t care if this takes all night.
I’ll stay here like this, happily, for as long as she wants.
“Okay… I think I got it.”
Her layered bangs fall over her face as she bows her head over the screen. A few seconds later, she looks up to give me a quick smile. “I sent you a few of the good ones. To your Gmail.”
“Sweet,” I answer, though it’s hard to focus on words while looking at her.
Her amber eyes are filled with warmth. Moonlight frames her face. Her black sundress hugs her curves.
Have I ever met a woman who takes my breath away like she does?
No.
Never.
This woman does something to me. I haven’t wrapped my head around it, and I don't have time to right now because the server is carrying a sandwich board sign inside the seating area.
“Closing down for the night, folks!” she chirps. “Hope you have a great evening!”
My date—I really have to ask for her name soon—leads the way toward the ocean. We pause on the walkway that overlooks the stretch of beach. White sand slopes down to the waves.
“I better get a photo of this, too.” She raises her phone.
I grab mine as well and peek at my email while she takes photographs. There’s her message, with the photos of us.
It’s powerful, in an unexpected way, to see the snapshots.
We look really good as a couple. Really happy together. Well, that was the goal, wasn’t it? Happy-couple photos…
We nailed it.
In the photograph, her dimples mirror my own. Her wavy, light brown hair sweeps across her brow. My own shaggy do is a little wild-looking, and I have a huge, goofy, happy smile.
