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After years of arid desert, the sticky humidity and pristine, sparkling white sands of Fort Walton Beach, Florida were a delightful change. Jimmy laid back on the novelty beach towels they’d bought at the airport, thankful of the shade from the wide, spotted beach umbrella, and played with the soft sand lazily. Next to him, Kim wore a giant floppy sun-hat that had her large sunshades propped on the brim as she read the airport romance novel she’d started on the flight. He stared like a sap, taking her in. His usually modest wife—and doesn’t that make him the luckiest bastard on the planet, getting to call himself Mr. Kim Wexler—was in a skimpy yet tasteful black bikini swimsuit, and he watched her eyes trace the lines of her paperback. That morning they’d had lazy sex in one of the four beds in their quaint light-blue beach-house rental, and he managed not to burn their eggs when she walked out of the bathroom in only his Fudrucker’s restaurant souvenir T-shirt.
Vacation life looked good on her.
Not that everything didn’t look good on her.
But there was something so special about seeing her face free of worry lines, laid back, back muscles finally loosening after they had a couple’s massage before their first dinner in Florida. Every smile, every laugh, every relaxed moment with Kim had felt like the joy of marrying her all over again. Jimmy would well with pride and peace. No-good Slippin’ Jimmy, doing something good. Not ruining everything he touched.
Before his mood could sour, Jimmy noticed Kim side-eyeing him, one perfect blond brow raised.
“Everything okay, there, Jimmy?”
Jimmy cleared his throat, flustered. “Yeah. Just… Thinking about how good it is. To be here. With you.”
Kim’s lips curled slightly. “This was a good idea. Getting away from work, and Albuquerque, and everything. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Well, I do have good ideas some of the time. You were one of them.”
His flirtation was transparent and not slick at all but it amused her, Kimmy huffing a laugh before marking her place in her book and leaning across the sand between their towels to give him a kiss. He’ll count it as a win.
Around them, waves lapped at the feet of the handful of other vacationers and locals running through the sand. Nearby Godzilla, an elementary school age girl with her arms held like a T-rex and roaring, stomped through the finished fortress of sand while her companions shrieked in delight. A couple walked their dog, arm in arm as they avoided the people coming in and out of the brilliantly teal water. It wasn’t as crowded as some of the other beaches in the area, but it was far from deserted.
Regrettably, Jimmy and Kim separated, faces starting to flush. Probably for the best. Sex on the beach sounds nice and all, but finding sand in undesirable places for a week tarnished the shine of that idea. Jimmy told Kim as much, grinning as she snorted.
Kim checked the time. “C’mere, Jimmy. Time for your sunscreen re-up.”
If the world were fair, Kim would also have had to constantly reapply sunscreen to not fry, but life isn’t fair. He burned way easier than she did, and it’s difficult to have a sexy, fun vacation with his wife if he couldn’t move without wincing and cracking blisters. Of course, this came with the added bonus of feeling Kim’s deft hands rub the cool lotion across his back and shoulders while he tried to focus on smearing it on his face and chest.