Beach Blanket Santa

preparing all this.” She motioned to the makeshift Christmas tree beside them, sharing its homey glow.
    “I was,” he told her. “But once I’d set the driftwood under the house to dry out a bit, I came back and got my fishing gear. You’ll really like the gumbo, I think. It’s not exactly turkey and stuffing, but—”
    “It sounds great. Just let me know what I can do to help.”
    He wriggled his eyebrows. “Are you making a play to start cooking with me again?”
    She laughed. “Might be.”
    “You won’t have to offer twice.” He smiled softly. “Though I’ve got to admit making a roux won’t be nearly as sexy as baking cookies.”
    Her lips took a downward turn. “Darn.”
    He took her hand in his. “How did I get so lucky? One day I’m all over women, and the next, there you are.”
    “All over women?”
    “It doesn’t matter, really. I’m just happy my brother insisted I come here to get away.”
    “So it was Robert’s idea, was it?”
    “Uh-huh. Was it yours or Elaine’s?”
    “Elaine’s, actually.”
    He gave a hearty laugh. “Well, God bless them both. We’ll have to drink a toast to them later.”

    Sarah had fun helping Matt with the gumbo. Though he’d been right, making a roux wasn’t nearly as sexy as baking cookies. It required devoted attention to hot oil and flour, and careful timing with tossing in chopped onions and celery. After a delicious dinner filled with easy conversation and laughter, Sarah helped Matt with the cleanup, which was minimal.
    “What would you like to do now?” he asked her. “Shall we look for a movie?”
    But Sarah was having so much fun talking with Matt, she didn’t want to find them caught up in something like that. “Maybe we could turn on some music and just visit awhile?”
    “Sounds great to me.” He went to the living area to survey the CDs, neatly alphabetized on some built-in shelves. “What will it be? Christmas music or the Beach Boys?”
    “Hmm. Tough decision. Why don’t we go with Beach Boys. I mean, given where we are.”
    He grinned and loaded the CD. When Little St. Nick began to play, Sarah laughed. “Looks like we’re getting both! The Beach Boys and Christmas.”
    “At least with this song,” he said with a chuckle.
    She carried her wine to the sofa, but before she could get there, Matt approached.
    “Care to dance?”
    “Sure,” she said, setting her glass aside. The music was catchy and upbeat as he took her in his arms and they bounced happily to its tune. He twirled her under his arm, then whirled her back toward him, tucking her up against him. She laughed heartily. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”
    “In North Carolina, they call this shag dancing. It’s big in the beach areas.”
    When the song ended, a slower one started. Sarah turned to head back to the sofa, but Matt stopped her by taking her hand.
    “Don’t go.”
    She gazed up at him, and blue eyes sparkled, warm in the firelight’s glow. “I need you to stay with me,” he said, his voice gone husky, as Don’t Worry, Baby began. “Stay in my arms.”
    He pulled her to him, and they embraced her pulse fluttering wildly. “This is all I want,” he whispered into her hair as he held her close. “Just to be with you. Right here and now.”
    It was all she wanted too. Everything she wanted and had always longed for was right here in front of her. Sarah held on tight as they swayed to the music and the embers of the fire crackled softly. When the brief snow shower had let up, a deep fog had moved in. From faraway on the sound, the mournful cry of a tugboat wafted across the waters. They’d been through all kinds of weather, but with Matt, she’d felt safe, secure in the knowledge that he would care for and comfort her.
    She would remember this Christmas forever.

Chapter Eight

    The next morning, they sat at the kitchen island with their coffees.
    “I can’t believe we got a white Christmas,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I had one. I had to have been a kid.”
    “A light dusting was more like it,” he said with a laugh. “But, you’re right. It was special.”
    She studied him with affection, thinking how much she’d come to care for him these past few days. No matter what happened later, she would always recall her time here with him in a fond way. “I want to thank you. Thank you for helping make yesterday the best Christmas ever.” She shifted in her seat to pull the poem from her jeans