Beach Blanket Santa

himself, and Sarah face-palmed, sinking onto a bar stool at the center island. Matt Salvatore. Unbelievable. She never thought she’d see him again. Certainly not as much of him as that.

    Matt shut the door behind him and slowly shook his head. Sarah Anderson, all after this time. She was the one person he never thought he’d see again. She’d certainly given him the boot sternly enough, and once things got rocky between Elaine and Robert, there wasn’t really any occasion to see her. The newlywed couple stopped having folks over shortly after their wedding. Come to think of it, they hadn’t entertained much at all. It seemed they were too busy biting each other’s heads off to consider serving up dinner to outsiders. It wasn’t that Elaine and Robert didn’t like each other. In fact, they’d been madly in love. The trouble was both were headstrong individuals, each used to getting his or her own way. This made for some heavy fireworks when even a discussion of which placemats to set on the table sparked an altercation.
    Matt extracted his clothes from the dresser, knowing Elaine and Robert’s parting had been for the best. The moment they’d split up, they’d seemed like old friends again, not that they wanted to spend much time around each other. Too many unhappy memories of what their tainted married life had been like. Still, neither harbored ill will toward the other, and each was happy to let the other go on with his or her life. The only real thing that bound them together was this beach house at the Outer Banks.
    Matt stepped into his jeans, considering the situation. He supposed he should offer to go. That was the gentlemanly thing to do. After all, this was supposed to be Elaine’s week here, not Robert’s. And what a shame that was too. The fishing today had been mighty fine. Matt even thought he felt that first hint of beard stubble poking through. He’d nearly forgotten how peaceful this place could be, gulls calling and darting above white-capped waves. Matt stared out the window at the tumultuous ocean suddenly shrouded in dark clouds. Seeing Sarah again had turned him inside out in a way he couldn’t have expected. He’d nearly forgotten about her completely until he’d looked in those big brown eyes. And, when he had, every inch of him remembered holding her close as they’d swayed to that sultry ballad by a small jazz band. He could even recall the scent of her, fresh and womanly, like daisies after the rain. And those skies had opened up and poured on him all right, sending him packing during the cloudburst. He tugged on his sweatshirt, thinking that this time he’d be more prepared. Sarah wouldn’t need to tell him to leave. He was volunteering.

    Sarah peered into her cooler, wondering if she should reload it with the cold stuff she’d already stowed in the refrigerator. But her cold packs had melted, so she’d need to stop by the store on the mainland and secure some ice on her way home. It would be rude for her to deplete this place of the one premade bucketful it had. Listen to her! Thinking of being rude to the one man she’d met on the planet who’d proved himself to have no manners. The morning after the wedding, he’d made a quick exit without caring to explain what went wrong. Only one picture bloomed crystal clear in her mind, that of the irresistible best man leaning forward to lift her bridesmaid’s dress over her shoulders. How could he when she wasn’t even in her right mind? Well, maybe he hadn’t been in his either. They’d both did have quite a bit of champagne.
    The door cracked open to the right-hand master bedroom. There were two large ones in this house, one on either side of the central living area, and each was decorated in its own ocean theme. One sported sand dollars, while the other, the one in which Matt was staying, was adorned in conch shells. He emerged, and Sarah caught her breath on the impossible. He looked just as good fully dressed as he had standing near naked in a towel. She felt her face redden, fearing he could read those thoughts.
    As Matt approached, she noticed a backpack casually slung over his shoulder.
    There was a small tug at her heart, something akin to pain. Maybe the thought of him walking out conjured up some mysterious sense of déjà vu. But that was silly. Shouldn’t she be grateful at his efforts to make things easy?
    He set down the backpack and started gathering his fishing gear. “I think it would be simpler