“Fuck,” I sigh as I walk around and climb into my car. I turn on the engine, enjoying the purr of the engine. This is my favorite sports car to drive, and from the way Ella is looking at it appreciatively, she’s enjoying it, too.
“What kind of car is this anyway?”
“Audi R8 Spyder,” I answer, then glance over to see her reaction. It’s a relatively well-known sportscar and the price tag isn’t a secret, either. She’s looking at me quizzically.
“You’re a mystery, Marcus. With a car like this, I assume you’re well-off, and probably live a very different life from me. I just don’t understand what it is you see in me.”
My heart cracks listening to Ella compare the two of us, as if my bank account affects who I am as a person. My parents raised me better than that and it’s time I remember that fact. I pull the car over to the side of the road and turn to face her.
“You’re right, beautiful girl, and also oh, so wrong. Yeah, I’ve got money. But that’s a story for another time. But how can you not see that the car I drive or my dollars in the bank mean nothing when it comes to how I feel about you? You should be a stranger, Ella, we just met earlier today. Instead, you feel like someone I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”
I sit, patiently waiting for her response to my heartfelt words. The play of emotion across her face is mesmerizing. She reaches out one hand and her fingers stroke down my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into her touch.
“Marcus…” The way she says my name, full of longing, brings peace to my heart. What she says next is whispered so softly I almost miss it.
“I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, too.”
We stay like that for a while, gazing at each other, her hand on my cheek and mine on her thigh, gently stroking her warm skin. But then my stomach lets out a loud rumble, reminding me it’s been a long time since I wolfed down a sandwich on the ferry, just moments before I met Ella.
“Good gravy, was that a monster or your stomach?” she laughs, and I chuckle right along with her. My hand drifts back to her thigh, and this feels so comfortable, so easy, as if we’ve been together for years, not mere hours.
The drive to the diner is short and I’m able to get parking right out front. Ella takes my hand as we walk inside, and it feels good that she’s not shy about showing me affection. I don’t miss the curious glances that come our way and more than one person asks Ella who I am when they come up to chat with her. She evades the question, saying I’m a friend visiting the island, and that does NOT feel so good. I’m much more than just a friend. I want to be everything to her, a partner, a lover, a friend, and eventually a husband. That thought startles me.Marriage? Where the fuck did that come from…but now that the idea is in my head, I can’t shake it. I can see Ella walking toward me, outside the inn, a flowing white dress, and flowers in her hair. Our guests will chuckle at the story of how we met and even if it might seem fast, they won’t be able to deny how perfect we are together. Fast forward and I can see her belly, swollen with our child, glowing with the love that comes from finding your soul mate. Because that’s what she is to me. Ella is my soul mate; I know that by the way my body craves her touch and with the way my heart feels as if it belongs to her.
Suddenly her voice trickles into my consciousness. While I’ve been fantasizing about our future, Ella has been saying something about pickles.
“No, no pickles. Not for me,” I say, still somewhat distracted by the vision of her pregnant.
She grins up at me. “Excellent. I hate pickles. So, do you trust me to order the best salmon burger you’ve ever had?”
I look down at her, and with one hundred percent sincerity, I reply, “I would trust you with anything.”
Her smile softens and she goes up on her toes to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Does that mean I can drive your car?” she murmurs against my lips.
My head falls back with laughter. This woman, she is something else.
Someone calls out Ella’s name, and she goes to place our order. I whip out my black Amex card and quickly swipe it to pay for dinner. The guy running the till raises his eyebrows and looks me up and down, and I realize they probably don’t see a lot of those cards here. I give him a nod and turn with Ella to leave.
We take our food outside and I look at the captivating woman beside me.
“Where to, beautiful?”
She gestures dramatically toward the water. “To the beach!” she announces.
We walk down the street, but instead of going to the public beach, Ella leads me down the road a little bit further before taking a small side path with a sign that readsprivate property.
“Umm, Ella, babe, are we allowed here?” I ask.
She giggles at me and shakes her head. Apparently, that was a silly question to ask. “Of course, we are. The locals put that sign up so that tourists wouldn’t come here. We don’t bother with the public beach during tourist season; this is the secret beach.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I don’t know if she’s trying to be seductive, but it just looks amusing to me, so I chuckle.
“Alright, lead on.”
A moment later, the path opens up onto a stretch of beach with soft, pale sand and large logs providing perfect spots to relax.
“Damn, I forgot a blanket,” Ella pouts. “We’ll just have to sit on a log to eat. It won’t be as comfy as the sand, but oh well.”
“I don’t plan on being here long enough to worry about a comfortable seat because someone said something about dessert,” I reply. Her intake of breath is full of anticipation and arousal, and if I wasn’t salivating from the aroma of those burgers, I’d turn her around and march her back to my car, speed the entire way back to the inn, and have my way with her.Do I really need to eat?I answer my own question with another loud rumble from my stomach.
We both chuckle at that and find a log to sit on. The view is spectacular from this beach. The blue water of the ocean stretches on for miles. I can hear seagulls in the distance and the gentle sound of waves lapping the shore. It’s probably the most tranquil setting I’ve been to in years, and the press of Ella’s leg against mine only adds to the perfection of the moment.
