Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Dude’s tail thumped the ground in response and when Stephanie handed him a dog biscuit, he let out a snuffle of approval before it disappeared into his mouth and was gone in two bites.
“Good appetite.” Stephanie patted his head in approval. A bell rang in the shop and she headed back inside. “Duty calls. Have fun on your picnic!”
Simon handed me the tote bag, and I peeked inside and saw sandwiches, iced tea, and some baked goods that looked equally delicious and lethal—to my hips, not that I cared.
“A picnic?” I glanced at him. “Better watch it, O’Malley, the way to my heart is most definitely by way of a sandwich.”
Instead of looking terrified by the prospect as some men would, Simon simply smiled that knee-wilter of a closed-lip expression of amusement that highlighted his lone dimple.
He kissed my head as he walked past. “You need to raise the bar, Spencer. You should hold out for a whole pizza with all the toppings, at the very least.”
I laughed, not informing him that after last night he could have all of me for a lone grape.
Simon took the bag and settled it on the bike in front of him.
We climbed aboard and pedaled through town, turning down a winding road to a modest-sized beach nestled into a cove.
We were the only ones there. I was thrilled.
Having Simon and Dude all to myself on a beach was perfection, and I didn’t want to share.
We walked to the edge of the water. I kicked off my shoes and let the sand slip between my toes. Dude ran ahead with his nose to the ground, taking in all the smells.
Simon picked a smooth spot and set down the tote bag. From a smaller duffel bag that I hadn’t noticed, he unfurled a beach blanket and Dude’s Frisbee. The man had thought of everything.
The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the sound of the waves soothing as the water rushed to meet the sand only to slide away as if it couldn’t figure out how to stay.
Simon handed me Dude’s Frisbee and I flung it down the beach. Dude set off at a gallop to catch it. He missed and chose to stomp on it as if drowning it before he snatched it up in his jaws and trotted back to me, looking quite pleased with himself.
“Now, if what Tim said was accurate, this was the spot where my Gramps met your Pops, or at least it’s in the vicinity.” Simon spread his arms wide, gesturing to the cove.
“What do you suppose was the first thing they said to each other?” I asked.
“Knowing Gramps, it was ‘Hey, get out of my spot!’ ” Simon said in a gruff voice that I suspected was a spot-on impression of Gramps.
“To which my Pops would have said, ‘Make me.’ ”
“Oh, that wouldn’t go well.” Simon picked up the Frisbee that Dude dropped at his feet and sent it sailing.
I watched my big boy run down the beach, kicking up sand in his wake, and tried to imagine the two young men in the picture we’d found in Gramps’s duffel bag, standing here vying for the best fishing spot almost sixty years ago.
“Do you think it was love at first sight?” I asked.
Simon turned to face me. “From the way Tim described it, I don’t think so.”
I nodded. “But there had to have been something. A spark, a connection, a feeling—something must have happened between them to start as enemies and end up as lovers.”
Simon looked pained.
“Does it bother you that they were young lovers?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s contemplating Gramps’s love life, whether it was a woman or a man he was with, that has me feeling…” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t find the right word.
“Embarrassed?” I offered. He shook his head. “Grossed out?” He shook his head again.
“Acutely uncomfortable?”
“That’s it!” he yelled, and held up one finger. I laughed, relieved that he was being honest and that he had humor about it. “It’s like walking in on your parents doing the wild thing. Awkward.”
When Dude returned and dropped the Frisbee at his feet, Simon took it and sent it flying low into the waves, much to Dude’s delight.
“Is it because he’s your Gramps?” I asked.
Simon reached for my hand and pulled me into his side. “Yeah. I mean, I know I’m here because he and Granny conceived my dad, and my mom and dad conceived me, but I don’t like to think of any of them being…you know.”
“Intimate?”
He shuddered.
“Simon O’Malley, after last night, I wouldn’t have thought you to be a prude,” I teased.
“I’m not,” he said. “It’s just he’s Gramps, you know?”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “Old people enjoy sex.”
Simon clapped his hands over his ears and sang, “La la la la.”
I laughed and pulled his hands away, stepping fully into his arms.
“What about Lor and Charlie?” I asked. “Does the thought of either of them being in a relationship make you acutely uncomfortable?”
“It hasn’t been an issue with Charlie until recently, but I trust Julian to oversee things, so no,” he said. “But Lor? Yeah, growing up Charlie and I strongly encouraged her to join a convent.”
“What about that guy Chance who gave her a ride home?”
“Poor bastard is aptly named as he doesn’t stand a chance,” he said. “None of them ever do.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“Because she has a terrible father, so her trust in men—aside from me and Charlie—is as thin as a dime.” His tone was rueful when he said it as if he wished he could have protected her from whatever hurt their father had caused.
“You know the whole debate about whether a woman would choose to run into a strange man or a bear in the woods? Meaning which would she feel safer with?”
“Oh, yes.” I nodded. “My girlfriends and I have had many a conversation about it.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied me and said, “I’m betting you’d choose the strange man.”
I blinked. “What makes you say that?”
“Because despite being married to an asshole, you clearly have good relationships with your father and grandfather.”
“That’s true,” I said. “And, yes, I was one of the women who would choose the strange man despite my crummy ex.”
“My theory is that women who come from homes with horrible fathers choose the bear,” he said. “Lor said she’d choose the bear every single time.”
That theory made sense and I took a moment to think about the friends I’d debated it with, and Simon was right.
The ones who were staunchly bear had terrible fathers, so for them the first and most important man in their life failed to make them feel safe, so why would any man be viewed as safe?
Of course a bear seemed the better choice to them.
“At least she has you and Charlie,” I said. “I’ll bet that matters more than you know.”
He shrugged, unconvinced, and I couldn’t let that stand.
I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him down so I could kiss him.
Simon clutched me close and when I ran my tongue across the seam of his lips, he dug his fingers into my hair, holding me still while his mouth opened for mine and I plundered him like I was a pirate seeking treasure.
When we parted with a need to breathe, I glanced up at him, taking in his extremely sexy gaze and slightly swollen mouth, and I couldn’t help myself. “Do you think Gramps and Pops made out here, too?”
His eyes snapped to mine with a look of horror and I laughed, dancing away from him, keeping just out of reach as he strode after me.
When he got too close, I turned and began to run.
Dude barked and joined me as we sprinted down the beach.
I only got fifty yards when two arms scooped me up from behind and I was lifted into the air.
Simon dragged me out into the waves, dangling me over them. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung like a barnacle on a rock. If I was going in, he was going with me.
“You are in deep trouble, Spencer,” he growled. This sounded like a hot proposition to me, so I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him in tight against the juncture of my thighs. Simon let out a hiss and I knew I’d gotten his attention.
“Exactly what sort of trouble would that be?” I whispered in his ear before gently biting the lobe and tugging it with my teeth.
“Hannah! Simon!” A shout sounded from the beach and Simon turned with me still in his arms to see Roland, with Zach and Taylor, striding toward the surf with Dude beside them.
Simon let out a small groan and lowered me until my feet were in the water. “Their timing could not be worse. Cover me.”
He moved me to stand in front of him, and I realized from the feel of him pressed up against my lower back that he had an issue.
There was a splash and I glanced over my shoulder to see that he had dunked himself.
He shot back up out of the water with a shudder, and I glanced down at his bathing suit. “Problem solved?”
“Don’t look at me like that or it won’t be for long.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me ashore.
“Hey, neighbors,” I greeted our friends. “Are you here for a swim?”
“Not tonight,” Roland said. “We’re on nest watch.”
I glanced at the barren beach, wondering where a tree might be that would have a nest.
“Not a bird nest,” Taylor said, correctly interpreting my glance. “A turtle nest.”
“Here?” Simon glanced around the sand.
“Up above the waterline, where the marked-off area is.” Roland gestured to the section closer to the seagrass that was taped off with wooden stakes and a sign.
“Our volunteer group marks the nests when the mother turtle comes ashore and then we start watching them at night when we think the littles are about to hatch.
“We try to assist the baby turtles on their trek to the ocean, by making certain there’s no light pollution to disorient them, or predators, human or animal, who might disturb them on their journey.”
“Oh, no, we’ll get Dude out of here,” I said. “I don’t think he’d mean any harm but we don’t want to have him get overexcited with baby turtles in the area.”