Maggie
I sat at the table Mike set on the beach—our beach—while he flipped steaks on the barbeque grill. My entertainment—and feeding—had become Mike’s number one priority on Isola Carolina.
I relished the view of his ass in black shorts that matched my beach dress as he grilled my food to perfection. “How much longer? I’m hungry.”
He turned, the gentle breeze playing with his loose curls. “Three minutes.”
Ambling toward him, I smiled and then held him from behind. “I don’t care about the steaks.” I gripped his ass. “I want a different kind of meat.”
He tilted his head and gave me a kiss. The heat from the grill was nothing compared to the hotness of his lips. His cell buzzed in the pocket of his shorts. He jumped, swiftly taking it out.
“Nominations out yet?” I asked.
He glanced at the screen in disappointment and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Not yet.”
“You don’t have to worry. It’s in the bag. I can tell.”
A pale smile touched his mouth as he placed the steaks on our plates. “How can you be so sure?”
“I know I don’t have the experience to judge these things, but…”
He winced as if I’d misunderstood what he meant.
“…you said it yourself. The critics loved you. Your co-stars loved you. Everybody on social media says Gennaro deserves to win this year. And I was there. I’ve seen your performance. It was amazing. Not to mention the standing ovation at the premiere.” I recalled the premiere night when I’d taken an eleven-hour-flight to spend three and a half hours in L.A., two and a half at the theatre, and one in the limo back to the airport, making love to Mike and saying goodbye again.
“That was for you, Maggie.”
“C’mon. That was definitely for you, and in all fairness, for Cassidy, too.”
He started toward the table. “I bet you’ll be nominated.”
A giggle burst out of my mouth. “A woman, with only three movies in her resume, nominated for Best Directing?”
He shrugged, setting the plates down. “You’re the best director I’ve ever worked with.”
“Liar.” I sat as he moved the chair for me. “You hated it.”
“I’m not saying you’re the easiest to work with. You take your job very seriously, and you’re a perfectionist maniac.” He took his place at the table. “But you’re definitely the best. You got things out of me that I didn’t even know existed.”
I smiled, taking a bite of the well-done steak. “This is so good, like always.” Another piece filled my mouth. “When you retire, you should definitely open a restaurant.”
“We aim to please, Ms. Dawson.”
“I really don’t like it when you call me that. Maybe in bed, but not like that.”
He dug his fork in the meat. “Maybe we should change that title soon.”
I put down my knife and fork. “It’s been two weeks, Mike. I still can’t get used to the weight of that ring on my finger.”
“Is that why you haven’t told Nick yet?”
“Hell no. I just wanna tell him in person.” I noticed the anxiety in his expression. “Mike, I don’t have any second thoughts. I know it’s out of character, but I can’t wait to tell the whole world we’re engaged.”
He held my hand, his fingers brushing against my skin. His lips printed a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “Thank you.”
“When are we going home anyway?”
“You tired of here?”
