Just a little one-shot I threw together because I'm sick of the snow and the cold already. And it's only January. :P I don't own the guy in the beach chair.
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He closes his eyes, letting the sun and ocean breeze work its magic as he sits in the beach chair, a beer bottle dangling tenuously in his long fingers. This was a good idea, he had to admit. He'd had his doubts when she presented the tickets to him as his Valentine's Day gift. He never knew when he would have a patient. His leg and long flights were a match made in hell. Besides, didn't she have a bar to run?
He had a ridiculous amount of vacation time, she had countered. His team could damn well handle things for a couple of weeks. Her brother was mostly okay with running the bar in her absence while she ran away with him. Besides, who wouldn't want to get the hell out of Jersey in the middle of winter?
She had a good point. Several, in fact. He had reluctantly turned in a slip requesting vacation time, and while his boss's mouth had dropped in shock when she noticed how much time he was taking, she had signed the slip with a smile and a flourish, wishing him a safe and relaxing trip. He had smirked at the hint of jealousy in her voice. Whether that was due to his destination or the woman he was headed toward that destination with, he wasn't sure.
Right now, he doesn't care. Nothing matters but the warm sand between his toes and the seagulls squawking overhead. She was right. He had needed this, far more than he had realized. Hell, he couldn't even recall the last vacation he had taken. He makes a mental note to do this a hell of a lot more often.
A faraway voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shades at the figure that approaches. It's better than any Baywatch fantasy, he decides as the figure comes closer, eventually straddling him in the chair and leaning over him, her blonde hair dripping salt water all over him.
She presses a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger and deepen, their tongues tangling languidly, neither one of them in any rush to end it. Time means nothing here, the days and nights blending into each other as they simply enjoy the time together, away from the pressures of their everyday lives.
They break apart with a soft sigh, and she shifts so that she settles into his lap, her head on his chest. She smells like salt and sun and sand, her skin a toasty golden brown, a few freckles dotting the bridge of her nose.
Oh yeah. They've definitely got to do this more often.
Life is good today, he decides as he wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. Life is very good.
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