There were older pictures, going by the eighties clothing. One of two little boys in Superman underwear with capes tied around their necks. Matt named the people in every photo and told the surrounding stories until she felt like she knew him. So many memories, Abby thought, and someone on the other end of the camera who cared enough to capture them. His mom probably.
She’d had a school picture taken each year, though she didn’t have any to show her kids. There’d been no one to buy the package. Didn’t matter. She had her own family now and she took hundreds of pictures, always bought the whole package.
Jack pointed to four little boys in football helmets swallowing their heads. “I’m going to play football. Right, Mom?”
“Yes. You get to play—”
“I should practice.” He turned to Matt. “Can we practice?”
“Sure,” Matt answered.
Jack was already out of his seat. Matt slipped his phone into his pocket and rose with a sleepy Charlie in his arms. She moved to take him, but Charlie had other ideas. He wrapped his little arms tightly around Matt’s neck, completely content to rest his head on Matt’s wide shoulder.
Matt sent Abby a relaxed smile, as if holding a toddler in his arms was the most normal thing in the world. “Back to the beach?”
Gracie grabbed Matt’s free hand and tugged. “Come on. I have to show you somefin. It’s weally portant.”
Abby wanted to say no, not because she didn’t want to spend time with him but because she did. Too much.
But how could she say no to something weally portant? Especially when Matt looked at her daughter like he cared.
—
It turned out the somefin Gracie needed to show him on the beach hadn’t actually been found yet. She led him by the hand, her big brown eyes searching the sand.
“Matt, wook.”
“What am I looking at?”
“It’s a stick. See?”
Before he could even pretend amazement, she darted to a piece of driftwood no bigger than his hand, asking him what it was, where it came from, and why did it come from there.
It went on like that, up and down the beach, Gracie pinging from one thing to the next like a pinball. No sooner had he started to answer her questions than she bounced off to a new object, pulling him and his heart along with her.
Gracie’s eyes were brown, but their sparkle reminded him of Abby. Everything came back to Abby.
He and Gracie finished their exploration as the sun slid past noon into the west. Matt took some time to throw the football with Jack, then kicked back in his chair, listening to the kids playing in the sand a few feet away. Abby praised their construction efforts as she straightened hats and dabbed sunscreen on noses. The velvety sound of her laughter as her two-year-old Tasmanian devil spun across the sand brought a strange twisty feeling to his chest.
He liked watching her when she didn’t know. There were no games. No trying to impress him. Just beautiful and real. The kind of woman a man would do everything in his power to keep.
Abby settled in the chair beside him, and a calm washed over his mind like the waves of the Atlantic. For the first time in a long time outside of work, he felt like he knew what he was doing. Knew where he was supposed to be.
She shifted, getting comfortable and he closed his eyes, pictured her cute little bottom wiggling in front of him. Abby. He liked to say her name, liked to think it. Minutes passed and he sensed her turning, felt her stare. Looking her fill, was she? Well, he’d make damn sure he got his turn. He forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“You’re staring,” he said, opening his eyes and angling his head, catching her in the act.
She jerked back. “No, I’m not.”
“You were. I felt it.” But she wasn’t nearly as close now and he regretted it.
“You couldn’t have felt me,” she added. “I didn’t touch you.”
“Well, I did.”
“Superhuman powers?”
He smiled at her snarky tone. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close.”
She glanced at the kids.
“I’ve got the kids. Trust me,” With his last words, her eyes snapped back and searched his, looking for…something, but finally obeyed.
Her watched her a moment. Her chest rising and falling, the top of her bathing suit cupping soft, sweet breasts. He leaned in close enough to feel her breath and count each fine hair of her feathered brow and his own breath caught in his chest. She has no idea how beautiful she is.
Because he had to touch her, he gently smoothed his thumb over her cheek. Her eyes flew open, met his, and an involuntary smile pulled at his lips, a warmth spread through him. Happiness maybe?
Realizing how close he was to putting his lips to hers, he dropped his hand and forced himself to sit back. “Could you feel me?”
“Of course I could. You were touching me.”
Her hand came up and nervously tucked strands of hair behind her cute little ear. Yep. He effected her and she couldn’t hide it worth a damn. His smile grew. He’d let her think she could. For now.
“What?” she asked, catching more silky strands in her fingers.
“Don’t fight it.”
She just stared at him.
“Your hair.” He could smell it from here, the wind blowing her scent over him. “It wants to be down.”
Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly pulled the elastic band from her hair and all that dark silk tumbled down past her shoulders. Damn. He needed a diversion. “So, now that you’ve seen me in my underwear, tell me something about you.” Her look of utter shock had him laughing. “The picture. Remember?”