by Pamela Morsi
She awakened to the sound of surf and the squeals of little girls. The book she’d been reading was still open on her lap, as if she hadn’t been dozing beneath the shade of the beach umbrella.
D.J. yawned and stretched and looked over the expanse of sand in front of her. At the water’s edge a tall, familiar guy with sandy-brown hair lurched, zombielike along the shore. His hands, frozen into claws, stretched out threateningly as the two children in wet swimsuits darted around him, provoking both giggles and shrieks. She watched as the girls got in closer and closer, able to touch the monster but somehow never getting caught. Then suddenly, without warning, the monster grabbed both of them around the waist. With a screaming girl under each arm, he ran, with grace atypical for the undead, toward D.J. and the seclusion of the umbrella.
She laughed as he dropped the two girls in her lap.
“Exhausted,” he said as he dropped beside them on the blanket.
Like ever-energetic puppies, the girls immediately pounced upon his prone position, instigating “tickle wars.” It was clear to D.J. that, as per usual, her husband was outnumbered and outclassed.
Sophie, age six, simply could not be tickled, but knew all the best spots to go for. Her little sister, Jaleh, got goosey at a mere finger pointed in her direction and could end up crying if she got too much.
D.J. let them torture Scott for a couple of minutes before she called a halt.
“Let Daddy rest,” she told them. “You don’t want to wear him out completely on only the second day at the beach.”
Reluctantly the girls settled down. Sophie talked her father into a quieter activity, “toe math,” where feet were utilized for counting, rather than fingers.
Jaleh, who after a long day of fun in the sun, was finally beginning to tire, took a seat in D.J.’s lap. She smelled of sea salt and suntan lotion. Resting her head on Mom’s shoulder, D.J. expected her to be sleeping within minutes. But an intruder nixed that scenario.
The small dog suddenly burst in among them. He had as much silver in his coat as black, but his enthusiasm was youthful.
“Dewey!” Jaleh said, excitedly as she jumped up to play.
Sister and dog were joined by Sophie, who at least had the good manners to call out a greeting to the dog’s owner.
“Hi, Grandma!”
D.J. shaded her eyes as she looked up at her mother-in-law. Viv, clad in a vivid lavender caftan and sporting a gigantic straw hat, looked perfectly decked out for a beach excursion.
Scott jumped to his feet. “Let me get another chair.”
Viv tutted and shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she told him. “I’m here to collect the girls.”
The children looked up expectantly.
“Gerald is taking us to dinner where they launch the pirate ship,” she said. “I knew the girls would want to see that.”
“Gerald?” Scott asked. “The old guy you met on the plane?”
“He wasn’t that old,” D.J. corrected him. “And he was very distinguished-looking, I thought.”
“Yeah, okay,” Scott conceded. “But why are you taking our children on your date?”
“It’s not a date,” Viv insisted firmly.
“Where have I heard that before?”
Viv gave a huff. “Well, the rule is love me, love my grandchildren.”
She clapped her hands and urged the girls to bring the dog and come with her. They eagerly complied.
“We’re going to have a sleepover in my room,” she told them.
Sophie and Jaleh were thrilled.
“Is Gerald in on that?” Scott asked.
His mother wagged a warning finger at him.
“You don’t have to babysit,” D.J. told her. “You’re on vacation, too.”
Viv waved away her concern. “A vacation from retirement sounds like taking on a job. These two aren’t a job, they are a pleasure.”
After some noise, chaos, laughter and a bark or two, Scott and D.J. found themselves alone on the beach with a night on their own to look forward to.
“What do you think that was all about?” Scott asked. “Does she not want to be alone with this guy?”
D.J. shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think she may have other motives, as well.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “What other motives?”
“Well, she’s been making some veiled suggestions about how nice it would be to have a grandson. And how much the girls would love to have a little brother.”
“Oh, yeah? She hasn’t said a word to me.”
“She knows you’d tell her it’s none of her business.”
“Which it’s not,” Scott said. “But it is yours. What do you think? Is our family complete or are we missing somebody?”
D.J. shrugged. “I could go either way,” she answered. “You know how I love babies. But we’ve finally got everyone out of diapers and on a regular sleeping schedule. Do we really want to start 2:00 a.m. feedings again?”
“And colic. Remember colic?”
“I still have flashbacks.”
He chuckled.
“So how do you feel?”
“Another baby could be great,” he said. “If you want to, I’m there. But our life is so good. We have a great marriage with two beautiful, healthy girls. We both have jobs that we love. Good friends. Wonderful family.”
“We have the best sex in Kansas.”
He laughed. “Really? You think we have the best sex in Kansas?”
“Well, I haven’t had sex with everyone in the state, but I’m pretty sure ours has to be the best.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” he answered, grinning.
“Even from this distance I can see your ego inflating.
“Best sex in Kansas,” he repeated.
“Just remember, we’re not in Kansas anymore. And here on South Padre, there are lots of guys running around that are almost half your age and with twice your hormones. So the competition is, shall we say, stiffer.”
Scott howled with laughter. “You’re incorrigible,” he told her.
D.J. shrugged. “I’m a librarian, how could you expect anything else?”
He rose to his feet and offered a hand.
“Where’re we going?”
“Some place a bit more private.”
“Oh, yeah? And for what purpose?”
He grinned at her. “A South Padre tradition.”
“Which is?”
“Shining a bit of sparkle on Mrs. Sanderson.”
Also by Pamela Morsi
Territory Trysts
Wild Oats
Runabout
Tales from Marrying Stone
Marrying Stone
Simple Jess
The Lovesick Cure
A Marrying Stone Christmas (coming soon)
Small-Town Swains
Something Shady
No Ordinary Princess
Sealed With a Kiss
Garters
The Love Charm
Women’s Fiction
Doing Good/Social Climber of Davenport Heights
Letting Go
Suburban Renewal
By Summer’s End
The Cotton Queen
Bitsy’s Bait & BBQ
Last Dance at Jitterbug Lounge
Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar
Contemporary Romance
The Bikini Car Wash
The Bentley’s Buy at Buick
Love Overdue
Mr. Right Goes Wrong
Single Title Historicals
Heaven Sent
Courting Miss Hattie
Sweetwood Bride
Here Comes the Bride
Novellas
With Marriage In Mind in the collection Matters of the Heart
The Pantry Raid in the collection The Night We Met
Daffodils In Spring in the collection More Than Words: Where Dreams Begin
Making Hay
About the Author
National bestseller and tw
o-time RITA Award winner, Pamela Morsi was duly warned. “Lots of people mistakenly think they are writers,” her mother told her. She’d be smart to give it up before she embarrassed herself. Fortunately, she rarely took her mother’s advice. With 30 published titles and millions of copies in print, she loves to hear from readers at her website @ pamelamorsi.com
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