When her spoon hit glass, she pushed the cup away. “Thanks, babe.”
Deacon smoothed his hand down her hair. “How about we head back and take a nap? Maybe both of us will feel better.”
“Great idea.”
“I already paid for the bill, so we can just boogie.”
“That’s my guy.”
Their walk back to the cottage was quiet. Deacon seemed to always know when she needed chatter and when she needed silence. They held hands, sloshing through the small waves that covered their toes.
When their cottage came into view, he scooped her up and over his shoulder, making her laugh as he climbed the sand dunes into the knee-length grass that bordered the fence to their back porch.
He put her back on her feet at the small outdoor shower so they could de-sand. Kisses and a few trailing touches later, he drew her back inside. In no hurry to do anything other than be with each other, they shucked clothing and slid into the king-sized bed.
Both of them seemed intent on sleeping instead of sex. She snuggled into her favorite spot with Deacon curled around her from the back. The breeze was cool enough that her husband’s forcefield of heat actually felt good.
When she woke again, sunset’s silky red fingers were streaking the sky. She slipped out of bed and grabbed one of Deacon’s T-shirts. She sighed as the sun made its descent into the ocean. Could there be anything more beautiful?
A wide palm slid across her belly and Deacon tucked his chin on top of her head. “So, you mentioned that you were going to cook for me?”
“Is that all you can think about?”
“The three food groups that make up a honeymoon are sex, food and sleep. Guess which one I’m looking for?”
She laughed. “I think I remember reading something about a few fishmongers that were close. Want to explore a little? Take a drive down to the wharf?”
“Now that’s a plan.”
They got dressed and after a few hit and misses with some apps she used to locate fresh markets, they were driving out of the quaint little area they stayed in. Piers and industrial parks gave way to fishing boats and finally a tiny little shop that was open late. The strong scent of fish, seafood and catch of the day specials met them as they opened the rickety door to the shack-sized place.
“Are you sure about this?”
She elbowed Deacon. “Yes. This is the perfect place. Our selection probably isn’t going to be the best this late, but I can make us some fish tacos. Yes.” She moved down the aisle to the case. Red snapper would be perfect.
Deacon stood behind her, his hands gentle on her shoulders as she made her order. Such a couple thing to do, but this was probably the first time they’d actually been at a market to make food for them. She was usually buying in bulk for catering. Not just a few pounds of fish and shrimp to make her husband a meal.
Twenty minutes later they had veggies from a Mom and Pop store and they were on their way back to the cottage. They chatted over food prep, laughed through an impromptu cooking lesson and sang along to the radio.
It was after nine by the time they’d set the table outside and enjoyed their spread of butter and garlic pan-fried shrimp, citrus-infused snapper tacos and a bottle of Moscato. He plowed through the platter of food and she picked at a single taco.
Deacon frowned. “Is your stomach still bothering you?”
She shrugged. “You know me. I’m always picking and tasting when I cook. I’m half filled up before it’s even on the table.”
He sipped from his wine. “No more tequila for you.”
She grinned and held up her glass. “Agreed.”
He clinked his glass against hers and hunched over the table. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah. It feels weird to relax, but yes.” She tangled her fingers with his and leaned forward. The kiss was sweet and soft and held the crisp pear tones of their wine. She stood and drew him up with her. “Dance with me?”
“Here?”
“Yes, here. You, me and the stars.”
He slid his phone out of his pocket and flicked through a few songs until the sweet tones of a piano came from his speakers. John Legend’s silky voice flowed out into the night as Deacon curled her into his body. His knee between hers, one arm around her waist and the other up and around her shoulders until she was completely encased in his warmth.
One song slid into another, one kiss into soft touches, soft touches into dreamy sighs. They drifted inside, their lovemaking gentle and easy. Full of love and the indulgence of a night without a schedule or deadline. And they both slept dreamlessly in a tangle of limbs and sheets.
Morning came with a grumbling belly. Harper rolled off the permanent heater that she shared a bed with and to her feet. She snagged one of Deacon’s shirts and padded into the kitchen.
She found what was left of the fruit and some yeasty bread that was left in a basket by the caretaker. The bread tasted amazing and she buttered three pieces before she felt full enough to stop. She popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth and immediately spit it out.