"Hey!" He spun around and caught my hands, pulling me to him. "My ass isn't sandy."
"Not now!" I laughed. "I wiped it for you."
He looked me deeply in the eyes, grinning. "If you tell anyone you wiped my ass, I'll—"
"You'll what, tough guy? It's better than saying I kicked your ass, but I'm game for that, too."
"Wiseass woman." He pulled me to him and kissed me. "Don't test me."
We walked hand in hand, comfortably naked with each other, to the bathhouse, and showered.
"Britt." He took my hand after we were dressed. "This afternoon was…"
I smiled. "It was, wasn't it?"
"I—"
I frowned. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Let's gather a few coconuts before we head back."
I wanted to shake him. What? What had he been about to say?
I took his hand, disappointed, as we headed to the beach to hunt for coconuts. I had no idea how to tell whether a coconut was ripe or not.
Eli seemed to have a clue as he inspected and shook them one by one. He held one to his ear. "It takes coconuts nearly a year to ripen." He added it to the bag.
Like a good relationship, I thought.
"We'll have to hull them before we go back. There's a tool near the pier." He hauled them to the beach near the pier to a spear-looking stake sticking up. He smashed the coconut against it, time and again, slashing the thick hull open on each side until he got the hairy brown coconut we all recognized from the grocery store out.
"So that's what that sharpened spear is for," I said. "It looks a little gruesome, a bit medieval."
"You mean like for a head on a pike?" He laughed. "Just the coconut's. We'll crack the actual coconuts back at the house."
We loaded everything up. I was about to get into the passenger seat when he caught my arm. "I thought you were driving home. I'll give you a lesson."
I kissed him, surprising him. "I'd love that."
That evening we had dinner with fresh coconut on the deck at sunset. Eli cooked. And made pi?a coladas with fresh coconut milk that were better than any I'd ever tasted. But every sense was heightened when I was with him.
After dinner, we lay on lounge chairs on the roof deck and watched the stars come out, zillions and zillions of them. So many it was overwhelming. I felt small and insignificant. And near vertigo as I looked into the depth and vastness of space above me. But supremely happy to be with Eli. When it got cool, we soaked in the spa. And eventually fell into bed, tangled together like lovers.
Why did this holiday feel so much like a honeymoon?
Tomorrow it would be over. He'd leave me to be all by myself here. I fought sleep, not wanting this to end.
Six
Day Three
We woke again to the view of coral and rippling sunlight streaming though water outside our underwater aquarium room. More fish had returned. Schools of them in multiple varieties. Which was oddly comforting. I swore they swam more happily than before. Funny what a sense of utter bliss can do. What was the equivalent fish to the bluebird of happiness? Whatever it was, they were it. Swimming as if to announce to the world that Brittany West was joyously, deliriously happy. And about to crash when Eli Davis rode off in a boat headed for Fiji.
I slid out of bed quietly so I didn't disturb Eli, showered, and dressed. I had just scooped up his clothes to toss them in the laundry and give them a quick wash before he left—he'd worn them two days in a row now—and was just sneaking off to make breakfast when he woke and sat up sleepily.
"Damn, you're an early waker." His hair stood up at odd angles again. And he had the most adorable sleepy-eyed expression. "And a clothes thief? I never would have expected that from you. What's the plan? Are you holding me captive by taking my clothes for ransom?"
"Curses! Foiled again. Another brilliant scheme ruined by sleeping just a little too long, apparently. You can't leave if you're naked."
"Can't I?" He slid out of bed, laughing, and walked over to give me a light kiss.
I shrugged. "It would be embarrassing."
"I'm sure I could find something to wear."
"I'd love to see that. Thinking of making something out of one of the towels or maybe a toga from a bed sheet? As a fashion king, I must say you've been a disappointment. I haven't seen you in a pair of Hott's Socks yet."
He wrapped me in his arms and nuzzled my neck. "I've been stranded with only the clothes on my back—"
"Excuses, excuses." His dirty clothes were in my arms between us. I glanced down at them. "You've worn these two days. I'm going wash them. I can't have you leaving here looking rumpled. It will ruin your image."
"Very thoughtful," he said.
"Get cleaned up," I said. "I'm going to make breakfast. Join me on the deck." I pulled free from his embrace and headed for the stairs with his clothes.
"In what? The emperor's new clothes?" His grin was killer. "Or my birthday suit?" He snagged a decorative pillow from where we'd tossed it on a chair.