This resulted in her spouting more tears, but at least there was a watery laugh to go along with them.
“What do you need? You got anything in this magical bag that can help us out here?” he asked.
“Um…” She hiccuped between crying. “I might have a package of wet wipes in there. Can you get them?”
A request like this usually sent him handing the bag over and letting her get whatever she needed for herself. Except she was shaky and emotional and—forGod’s sake! He’d just faced an onslaught of ravenous gulls and survived a free fall drop from who knows what height while inside an empanada. If he could do that, then searching the dark abyss of his wife’s bag should be nothing. This is what she needed from him, and he wasn’t about to screw it up.
“Okay, no problem. Let me just clean my hands a little.” He tried to wipe his hands on the pebbled sand, doing his best to clean them, but mostly smeared the grease further into his skin. He carefully unzipped the bag and sifted around the contents. It actually wasn’t bad, kind of like going on a treasure hunt, as he pushed away bruised bananas, water bottles, a paperback book, a random toothbrush, and a pair of sunglasses.
Oh, breath mints! Who didn't feel better after a refreshing mint? He popped a few into his mouth and offered the container to his wife.
“Hey, look what I found!” Trey paused for dramatic effect. “It’s another hair tie.” He presented it to her as though it was an amazing gift.
She frowned while taking it. “That’s not a hair tie. It’s a rubber band.”
“What’s the difference?”
“This is probably garbage I threw in there from work. It’s going to pull on my hair and rip it out.”
“Ah, okay, garbage. Let’s just toss it then. No reason to lug around garbage when this bag already weighs a ton.” As though a single rubber band would make all the difference.
“No!” Catalina slipped it onto her wrist. “Itmight come in handy. You never know.”
“Sure, I can use it as part of a projectile to shoot at gulls who come after our food the next time. Maybe make a slingshot or something.” They might need to eventually fashion some kind of weapon.
“Right? We were there first! That food was ours.”
He smiled at the return of his wife’s feisty spark, the tears mostly gone by this point. “Hey, here we go. And for my next trick… Ta-da!” He removed a new package of hand wipes like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
“Yay,” his wife responded with as much enthusiasm as she had the energy for, holding out her hand.
Rather than hand them over, he broke the seal, opening the package while scooting closer. Taking one of the cool sheets in hand, he tipped her chin with a finger in order to get better access as he gently wiped the mess from his wife’s skin. He was surprised when she stole her own sheet and began to wipe his face, returning the favor. It was all very soft and sweet and made his heart expand.
“Look at you,” he said lightly when both of their faces were mostly cleared from grease. “A little less delicious looking but still just as sexy.”
“Really? Even if my hair is completely disgusting?”
“Mm-hmm.” He brushed his lips across a brow and then along one of her eyelids as they shuttered closed. “Reason number sixteen on why you should love me. I find you sexy even when you have bits ofmeat in your hair.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right, sure. Besides, I think you went from fourteen to sixteen. You forgot reason number fifteen.”
“I didn’t forget. I’m saving that one because it’s special.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? You almost won me over with the sunblock and then lost me with ratatouille-ing people by riding their feet.”
He kissed her nose, feeling encouraged she wasn’t pushing him away. “I’m not worried. I have a lot more reasons to give you. Let’s see if you can figure out reason number seventeen.” With this, he dropped his head, pressing his lips to hers, softly at first until she sighed against him, her lips trembling open and kissing him in return. This was the gift he was waiting for, but he realized it was a small gesture and didn’t mean he won everything. Still, he deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his until he got a tiny moan from her and felt himself about to slip into the deep waters of lust. With great restraint, he pulled back, separating his lips from hers. Leaving her wanting was probably better than extending over the line just for her to smack him down.
She almost fell into him, as though their separation was enough to throw off her equilibrium and she hadn’t expected the kissing to stop. Catalina first appeared embarrassed at her reaction before narrowing her eyes at him. “I suppose you’re telling me that reason number seventeen is because you’re such a good kisser.”
“Aw, babe, thank you for the compliment!”
She rolled her eyes but there was a small smile attached. “You’re such an arrogant ass. I wasn’t trying to compli—”
She stopped when he placed a finger on her lips. “Reason number seventeen, Cat. I know when you need kissing.”
“Well, that’s definitely not true,” she replied.
He raised his brows, surprised. She was fighting against everything so hard. He could see it. And it hit him. Maybe Catalina was right. Perhaps there were times, back in their life in LA, when she came home, shoulders heavy and a crease between her brow, when she needed kissing…or time spent cuddled while reading a book or watching a mindless TV show. When she wanted a moment of peace, he had wanted something different—to have some part of her focus on him. Then she got mad, which in turn made him annoyed. Damn. She was right. He’d gotten lucky she’d given him the time of day when they first met, and he mistakenly thought this made him lucky all the time.
