He's the One

by Cat Johnson

  Vi counted out fifteen ones. Brad noticed her stack of money was getting smaller. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was used to paying his own way. While he appreciated Vi’s gesture, it tied him up inside.

  “Return the board when you’re done,” Steve said as he handed Brad a top-of-the-line skimboard, one polished a glossy black with a dark green stripe down the center.

  They walked the shoreline until they found a secluded spot on the sand. She shook out their beach towels, and then removed her tank top, shorts, and sandals. She’d worn a turquoise bikini beneath her clothes. She was slender but curvy. Brad stared at her for a good long time. He could look at this woman for the rest of his life.

  Vi settled on her towel, looked up at him. “You’re frowning,” she noted. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re too hot to leave here alone,” he said. “Guys will be all over you.” Several surfers stood at the tide line, nudging each other and looking her way.

  “I’m not interested in anyone but you.” Her words stroked his ego. And his dick. As surely as if she’d taken him in her hand. She reached into the plastic shopping bag and held up the bottle of suntan oil. “Do my back before you leave?” she requested, stretching out on the towel.

  He wouldn’t mind doing her front, too, inside her swimsuit and out. A private beach for nude sunbathing appealed to him suddenly. Violet would look amazing with a full-body tan.

  He poured the oil in his palm and rubbed it on her shoulders and down her back, along her legs. His fingers dipped between the shadows of her inner thighs. Touching her turned him on. He looked down to see a familiar bulge tenting his new board shorts. He capped the bottle and calmed himself before he stood.

  He purposely left his size twelve Nikes sitting near the bottom border of her towel. Anyone approaching her would see she was with a man and do an about-face. After picking up his board, he jogged to the water’s edge.

  “Be careful,” she called over her shoulder.

  He signaled he’d heard her. He liked the fact that she looked out for him. Something he hadn’t known often enough in his life. His mother always had a little one underfoot when he was growing up. She never had the time for him. He didn’t blame her, but it sure felt good to have a woman care about him. Make that two. Violet and her aunt Molly had shown him great kindness, which he would never forget.

  With the first decent swell he tossed his board. He banked off the wave and rode it in to shore. His adrenaline pumped. It seemed he’d never left the sport. His body felt loose and fluid and up to the challenge. He spent what he assumed was an hour in the water. Then decided it was time to return to Violet.

  He headed in, just as she swam out to him. She was a strong freestyle swimmer, sleek in her strokes.

  “I missed you,” she said when she reached him.

  “I was on my way back,” he told her.

  He hooked his board under one arm and hugged her close. She snuggled up to him, letting him know with a sexy squeeze to his butt how much she’d missed him. The ocean splashed around them like a playful child. Tucked against him, her body was slick and slippery. Shimmering in the sunshine. Her hair had a life of its own. Her nose and the arc of her cheekbones were slightly pink. He didn’t want her sunburned. It was time to seek shade.

  “Let’s set up under the pier,” he suggested.

  She agreed. They came ashore, collected their towels and clothes, and sought the shadowed canopy of a cement piling. “Popsicle?” she asked as they passed one of many refreshment stands. “Grape, banana, or cherry?”

  “Grape, and I’ll buy,” he said, reaching for her beach bag. His wallet was in the pocket of his athletic shorts, folded inside.

  She twisted away from him, shook her head adamantly. “Today’s all about you, Brad Davis. Save your money for another time.”

  She scooped out a handful of change from the side zipper enclosure, counted out two dollars. “Back in a flash.”

  He stared after her, admiring her walk across the sugar sand. Her steps were light; her energy was high. Her bikini rode up her bottom, revealing her tan lines and the tight curve of her ass. His hands itched to cup her. To draw her so close that he could trace the crease of her thighs with his thumbs. Then tease her beneath the elastic at her crotch until she was wet and wanting him.

  Damn, he was about to have a heatstroke. And not from the sun. Violet Cates was one hot woman. It would take more than a frozen treat to cool him off.

  She was quick to return. Her lips were already red and moist from her cherry Popsicle. Her tongue flicked the rounded tip before she sucked it into her mouth. Deep.

  His dick twitched. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he accused, groaning.

  “You think?” she teased.

  “I know.” He took the Popsicle she offered. Ate it in three bites. His mouth went from icy cold to dry as sand as he watched her finish off her treat. Her sensual licks, the erotic slide into her mouth, made him as stiff as his skimboard. He was thankful that his board shorts were baggy enough to hide his boner.

  The sun spiked its zenith, and shade was minimal. They walked to the water sport shack and returned his rental, then captured a square of privacy beneath the wooden planks of the pier. They sat on their towels, their shoulders touching, as they held hands.

  Brad looked out over the Gulf, letting their past return with the incoming tide. “In all the time I’ve known you, Vi,” he said, “we’ve kissed three hundred and forty-eight times on this beach.”

  “You kept count?” She appeared surprised, yet pleased. Tilting her head, she took his mouth. “Three hundred forty-nine,” she breathed against his lips.

  “Three-fifty.” He upped the count once more.

  Her smile was soft. “Midnight was our make-out hour. We spent equal time between the storeroom at the diner and under the pier. The Gulf stole your shoes and socks and my scrunchies.”

  “I carried the beach home with me,” said Brad.

  “There was always sand between my toes and in the crack of my ass.”

  “Your butt more than mine,” Vi recalled. “You let me be on top.”

  “I was a gentleman,” he said, tongue in cheek.

  She laughed at him. “You were a bad boy with sex on your brain.”

  “My mind was always on you.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “Mine was on you, too.”

  He brushed her bangs off her forehead, grew serious. “Where are we at, Vi?” he asked. He needed to come to grips with where their relationship was headed and braced himself for her answer. Everything was happening so fast, but he wanted to get serious with her, have a life together. On the other hand, he’d just returned home. Maybe it was too soon for her to know where they stood.

  She scooped up a handful of sand, let it filter through her fingers, like time slowing down. “Where do you want us to be?” She waited quietly for his answer, but he could see her hand was shaking. He imagined her heart was thumping in her chest. His was, for sure.

  “In my perfect world, we’d work together and achieve our goals,” he slowly said. That much was true. Here came the hard part. He reached for her hand, held it tight. He needed to know her true feelings. She believed he was the same man he’d been when he’d left town. He’d yet to tell her otherwise.

  “I haven’t changed much since the last time I saw you, Vi.” He paused, then let go with the big question. “Are you willing to start where we left off?”

  She sighed heavily, as if releasing the weight of the world. “I’ve struggled financially all my life,” she said honestly. “It would be nice to have someone to support my dreams and believe in our future. You’re the one, Brad. You always have been, always will be.”

  “Life partners, I like that.” His chest warmed. He liked being her one. He had every plan to marry this woman.

  He squeezed her hand, smiled. “How shall we celebrate our partnership in business and pleasure?”

  “It’s our day of
f from work, so no shop talk.” She nuzzled his jaw, worked her way up to his ear. Flicked her tongue to his lobe. “How about talking dirty in bed?”

  His agreement came with his erection.

  The sun was hot on his back as they left the beach.

  His groin burned even hotter.

  Chapter Five

  Life partners? Violet Cates hashed the words over and over again in her mind as she changed the sheets on her bed. Brad wanted to spend his life with her, they’d become business associates, but he had yet to mention marriage. That worried her, she realized. More than a little. She loved this man. She wanted commitment and a ring on her finger. She tried not to dwell on the matter.

  Another issue weighed far more heavily in her heart.

  Three weeks had passed. Joe had returned from his Las Vegas vacation, far richer than when he’d left. He’d hit big at the roulette table. He’d put his trailer up for sale and purchased a house several miles inland. Molly was his interior decorator. By the twinkle in her eye, Vi suspected Lady Luck had dealt the two of them a winning hand.

  She figured her aunt was fixing up his home to fit her own specifications. She and Joe were often seen together after work, taking a walk on the boardwalk or at the movies. They’d been caught kissing under the pier, which made Violet smile. A person was never too old for a moonlight kiss. Molly had worked hard all her life. She and Joe needed to capture those special moments together and make their own memories.

  Violet dropped down on the foot of her bed; her shoulders slumped. She dipped her head, clasped her hands on her lap. Joe had hinted to Molly that he’d like to travel, to see Europe and Asia before age crept up and kept them home.

  Vi wondered what would happen to the diner if the two of them took off on their world tour. It was Cates policy to pass down the family businesses from generation to generation. Molly’s father was a Malone who’d married a Cates. Molly had been their only child. Her dad had opened the corner diner when she was born. It had been named in her honor. Molly had never married. Chances were good one of her cousins would take over running the diner, or, Vi’s worst fear, the boardwalk landmark would go on the market. Violet hoped that would never happen. Although she had a gut feeling it could.

  The thought of Molly Malone’s being sold chilled her to the bone. Tears pressed her eyelids. She wished with all her heart she had the money to invest in the diner. What if the new owner wanted to change things? The menu, the décor, even her uniform? She never considered for a moment that she and Brad could lose their jobs. That wasn’t how things were done on the boardwalk.

  A new owner might not see it that way, she realized. Then where would they be? Especially now when Brad was getting back on his feet. It wasn’t fair, but what could she do?

  Unfortunately, her finances were still tight. Even if she and Brad combined earnings and opened a joint savings account, it wouldn’t be enough. Her debt and doubts seeped into their future. She hated feeling so vulnerable.

  The sound of footsteps made her look up. She saw Brad leaning against the door frame. Tall and handsome and looking very much like a man happy to see his woman. “Everything okay?” he asked, concerned.

  She shrugged, forced a smile. “Just thinking.”

  “Too hard, from what I see,” he said, crossing to her. He lowered himself beside her. He was dressed casually in a navy shirt and khaki pants. “Share?” He curved his arm over her shoulders, offering to listen to whatever might be bothering her. She liked that about him. He didn’t pass judgment, didn’t pry, but he was there for her when she needed him.

  She appreciated his strength and support, but she didn’t want to lay her concerns on him. Why spoil everything? Brad was the best part of her day. They’d worked the early shift at the diner, come home, and picked up around the cottage. Then fooled around in bed. Cuddled up together afterward. Went on to take a shower. She breathed him in now. His skin still smelled of almond soap. His body was warm and wonderfully male.

  “I was debating taking a walk,” she said, wanting to clear her head. “Breathe some fresh air and catch the sunset.”

  “Want company or would you rather go alone?” he asked, offering her space.

  His consideration warmed her heart. She kissed him on the cheek. “My life is better with you.”

  They rose from sitting on the bed; love and understanding stood with them. Their feelings only strengthened as they left the cottage holding hands and headed toward the boardwalk. Their silence held the familiarity of two people comfortable with each other.

  They soon reached the corner where Center Street came to a dead end. Barefoot William stretched to the right, Saunders Shores to the left. Friday night and the Barefoot William boardwalk was alive with music and amusements. Sunburned tourists came off the beach and wandered into the shops, seeking souvenirs. Everyone wanted to take home a memory. T-shirts, sand globes, posters and postcards, tote bags, and bumper stickers were at the top of their lists.

  Boxes of homemade fudge from Fudgin’ It and bags of penny candy from Goody Gumdrops satisfied those with a sweet tooth. Florida Sunshine sold citrus. Old Tyme Portraits allowed customers to stand behind life-sized cardboard cutouts, their smiling faces showing above vintage swimwear. The framed black-and-white photographs were a popular keepsake.

  “Which way?” Brad asked, allowing her to decide.

  She was in the mood for peace and quiet. “The Shores,” she said. “Let’s window-shop with the rich and famous. Then sit on a bench and watch the sun set. Maybe stop at Lavender’s for sorbet, if it’s within our budget.”

  “Even if it wasn’t, Vi, there are times we need to splurge,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We can’t stop living just because we’re saving for our business.”

  She liked his way of thinking. Cool, honest, and practical.

  He tucked her to his side, and they turned left. He gave her a sense of security. No matter what happened in her life, she and Brad were a team. They were business associates and partners in the bedroom, and, hopefully someday, they’d be husband and wife. And working together at Molly Malone’s. Brad could work his way up to manager and she could learn to do the books.

  Before them now, Saunders Shores bore the stamp of great wealth. It differed greatly from Barefoot William. The walkway shifted from cracked cement to cocoa-brown brick. Here, there were no in-line skaters, unicyclists, street singers, portrait painters, magicians, or vendors hawking hot dogs and churros.

  There were no rickshaw pedicabs. No one wore swimsuits or walked around barefoot. The patrons shopping the main city blocks were dignified and well dressed. No one browsed; everyone bought. Customers carried designer boxes and bags. The boutique and café owners flourished.

  Bronze-tinted storefront windows shone gold as twilight tugged down the sun. The sky became a spectacular finger painting of red, yellow, and orange. Purple smeared the horizon.

  They stopped before a formal dress shop and admired the fancy dresses and proper tuxedos, then inhaled deeply as they passed an outdoor Italian bistro. A jewelry store caught her eye and Violet couldn’t help staring through the window. Diamond rings of every cut, clarity, and carat were displayed on glass tiers. She sighed over a pink basket-set diamond on a platinum band. The ring radiated love.

  Brad lifted her hand and gently kissed her palm. Her heart beat faster. Did he know what she was thinking? If so, he wasn’t going to tell her. Without a word, he led her toward a polished wooden bench so lacquered it looked slippery.

  They sat together, drawn into the darkness. Outside lights soon flickered on. The lantern-styled lampposts stretched the length of the boardwalk. Tall pole lighting lit the sugar sand for late-night walks. Cabana boys raked footprints from the sand at all hours, keeping the beach pristine. The ocean was as calm and glistening as a mirror.

  Violet relaxed her body against Brad’s. They seemed to sift together in a slow and easy rhythm. “Being superrich would be nice,” she softly said, “but it would make me uncom
fortable.”

  “How so?” he asked, interested in hearing what she had to say.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” she said. She had her own lifestyle. It would seem unnatural to her not to have bills to worry about or to buy retail and not off the sales racks.

  “You could travel, or perhaps take part in charitable or philanthropic projects,” he suggested, giving her alternatives.

  “That’s not me, Brad,” she said, being open and honest with him. “The diner is my life, the customers are my family. I wish Molly and Joe well, but I’m afraid of change. Afraid of what it could mean for us.”

  “We don’t know that she will sell,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

  “We don’t know that she won’t.” Her heart sank. “Has Molly said anything to you, one way or the other?”

  He was slow to answer her. She took that as a bad sign. “I overheard her tell Joe that a potential investor would be stopping by tomorrow afternoon. Someone with a background in food service.”

  Violet could barely breathe. “I’d hate to see the diner turned into a restaurant chain. Molly Malone’s has been the cornerstone diner on the boardwalk for eighty years. The thought of a new owner makes my stomach hurt.”

  “Speculation is pointless, Vi, until we have the facts,” he said, attempting to allay her fears. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.”

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.” She was trembling inside, but she tried not to show it. She felt better talking it out with him.

  “So am I.” He pushed off the bench and pulled her up beside him. “Sorbet?” he invited.

  “Dessert is good,” she agreed, “although one scoop of sorbet here costs more than a tub of ice cream at our local grocery store.”

  “You’re worth it, babe.” He kissed her then, a kiss as light as a breath of air. Violet sighed against his mouth.

  They entered Lavender’s through frameless glass doors etched with the letter L. The gourmet shop catered to the discriminating palate. The specialty flavors included coconut-caramel, burnt-sugar plum, cranberry pear, and raspberry truffle.