"So how does this look?" Aoife turned toward her husband, one fist on her hip, posing like some clothing model for a cheap mall store. The lacy white tank top and skin-tight white shorts showed off her petite figure. Rick's eyes lingered as they studied her, then he smirked.
"Like you're planning to blind everyone on the beach."
"Hey! I actually have a tan, thank you very much." She pulled down on her shorts just enough to expose a very faint line between creamy pale skin and slightly darker pale skin.
"You're Irish. You people don't tan. You just get more freckles before you burst into flames."
"Watch it, buster! My people are gonna be there, and they don't take kindly to you haughty Americans."
"If they start anything, I'm hiding the whiskey until they behave."
"That's fucking evil!"
He gave her a wink as he continued packing. Fuming at his threat -- even joking about keeping whiskey from an Irishman deserved a good punch to the face -- she stripped off the shirt and tried on the white bikini top. It was fairly wide, but tight, smashing her already-small breasts until they were practically nonexistent. It was cute, with yellow flowers dotting it, practical. Perfect for prancing around relatives in. She took it off and tried on option two -- a barely-there, lacy black thing that was simply two strings connecting a pair of eye patches. It left nothing to the imagination, and complimented her just right. Checking it out in the mirror, she caught Rick staring. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes glided over her slowly. She decided to reserve this one for tanning and any private interlude with him. Or when she and the girls went off to tease any poor single boys.
After dressing properly again and packing her stuff, she followed Rick out to the car, watching for the telltale signs of nerves. He was hiding it well, but she knew what he was feeling. It had been over a year since he'd seen his father, even longer for her. And she couldn't even recall what the man's wife looked like. It was the stepmother that probably made Rick so anxious, given what they've heard from his uncle.
No, she reminded herself, they were coming together, so that was a good sign. All Aoife needed to do was make sure Rick and Gerald had some time alone to catch up on much needed bonding. Even if she was living across an ocean, she was still so close with her parents, and wanted the same for her husband.
Once the car was loaded, she glanced around the empty street, barely able to see even with sunglasses. The heat wave forced all the kids indoors, while the adults that weren't on vacation were trapped at work. She listened to the local birds for a few moments, imagining the sea gulls they'd be hearing for the next week.
Rick hesitated on getting in. His look was distant, never a good sign. She risked asking, "He's still coming, right?"
"He promised. He's supposedly making more of an effort these days."
"So Becky is finally whipping him into shape. Good." She folded her arms atop the car, ignoring her burning skin. It was only eight in the morning, and already the sun had heated the vehicle as hot as an iron. But she wanted to look cute, even if it hurt like hell. "This is gonna be good for all of us. So relax and don't expect the worst."
It was too obvious what he was thinking. If the rumors were true, then Gerald had been cheated on by both wives. However, this one, unlike Rick's birth mother, was sticking around. Rick had always been adamant that Gerald was a good man and father, and faithful, even if he struggled being a husband that was present. Because of this, Rick constantly worried that he was gone at work too much, as well. His schedule certainly was hectic, given that he was trying to reach a lead position in the game development company he'd fought hard to get employed with. She understood, and besides, her schedule was no better. She traveled quite often on assignments, too. She may only be an internet journalist for an entertainment website, but it was just as stressful and time consuming as the big leagues. So whenever she got the chance, she reminded him how their time apart only made their time together all the more exciting and passionate. That, and the videos she'd make of the two of them together. She still remembered the confusion he'd shown when she brought home so many nanny-cams upon moving in together.
Relaxing as he watched her be adorable, he asked, "Ready?"
"Let's get this party started!"
*****
Rick drove down the interstate, unable to stop stealing glances at his wife's legs. Long, pale, propped up on the window edge with the shorts riding up her hips. Glorious. And dangerous, considering he was driving eighty miles an hour. She glanced over, red lipstick contrasting greatly with her fair skin. Those lips spread in a wide smile.
"Eyes on the road, boy." Then she tipped down the glasses and asked, "Or are you hoping to have a little fun with me?"
"We almost wrecked the car last time."
"No, you almost wrecked the car. I was busy trying to contain your mess inside my mouth."
"I'll have you know I had a stellar driving record until I met you."
"Bully for you. None of my other boyfriends ever crashed because of me."
Now it was on. "That's because your boyfriends either stuck to rural country roads with the only other traffic being tractors and sheep, or exclusively rode in taxis. Wait, you said one of your girlfriends drove off a freakin' mountain."
"Almost went off. She stopped in time."
Now that he had that image to sustain him, he was able to pry his gaze off her and focus on getting to New Smyrna safely.
Since they'd had to foresight to plan the reunion between holidays, and chose to start on a Monday, the city wasn't too busy. He took a detour to drive past all of the beach access points and hotels. A week before the big get-together, he'd visited the town again to choose the best directions for everyone to follow. The house was just over a mile away, though his boss had promised the ocean was easily visible from the second floor. After taking in the sights - and stopping for a small pizza at a small place no bigger than a food truck -- he followed the GPS to the house. When he'd come by the first time, the place's front hedges were untrimmed and overgrown. He merely glimpsed it down the driveway, checked the mailbox to be sure it was the right place, and hurried back home. Since then, a landscaper had stopped by, giving the entrance a more sophisticated style. And damn was the place bigger than expected.
"I'm gonna kiss your boss for this," said Aoife.
Staring up at the small, Mediterranean-style mansion as he pulled into the drive, he said, "So am I."
There were two cars already parked a grey minivan and a Ford Sonota. His father liked to splurge on rentals, usually a hotrod or class BMW, so neither could be his. And considering how bad his uncle was with directions, most or Rick's family was likely to be behind schedule. They got out of the car, grabbed a suitcase each, and headed to the door. Neither had reached it before a very large redheaded man flew out in a wave of obscenities. The man's accent was so thick that Rick wasn't certain he was even speaking English, only that he was quite pissed at his daughter. The man's face was as red as his beard.
Then he spotted the newcomers, and his anger evaporated. "Lassie! And I see you dragged your boyfriend along!"
The man lumbered over and wrapped two very thick, hairy arms around Aoife, lifting her off the ground. When she was set back down and caught her breath, she said, "Seamus, this is my husband. We've been married for five years."
"Aye, what's it matter. If he's the only man sharing yer bed, it's all the same. Come 'ere, boyo!" Rick got the same crushing treatment as his wife.
With his ribs suitably bruised, Rick stepped around Aoife's uncle and headed inside to face whoever had arrived. A couple of teenaged girls greeted him in the kitchen, already having lost interest in the house and returning to their phones. He found Seamus' wife, Lily, talking with another couple he didn't recognize. Since Aoife had roughly a hundred aunts, uncles and cousins, he just assumed they were part of the latter group. He greeted them, accepting Lily's much gentler hug than her husband's had been. She wasn't a tall woman, a bit stout yet shapely, and had clearer blue eyes than her husband's side of the family. Her two daughters had the same, along with the deep brown hair of their mother. The last time he'd seen Bree and Gloria was at the wedding, when both were still in grade school and fairer of skin. Now, their heavy tans matched their hair color.
"What was all the bluster about?" he asked as he shook the hands of the other two cousins. The man introduced himself and his wife as Wesley and Dana.
"Oh that. Just him being an old-fashioned git, as usual. Ignore him."
"Rather hard to do that." They all chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, picked out a room yet?"
"No, we wanted to wait for the hosts. The master bed is yours, no question, but if you have any suggestions..."
"Nope. Pick any room. If anyone wants to fight over one, go it out back. I'd rather not get blood in the carpet."
She assured him she wasn't going to let that happen, and he left them to search for the stairs. He heard Aoife's entrance, as the teens squealed, but not as loudly as his wife. The rest of the tourists followed suit. With a smile as he imagined them all hopping about and giggling with Irish accents, he clambered up the stairs with the heaviest suitcase they'd brought, and sought out the room his boss had said was the best. It awaited him at the end of the hall. Opening the door to the master bedroom was like revealing the gate to paradise. Where the hall was of dark woods and mood lighting, the room beyond was nearly as bright as outdoors. The glass doors on both walls were open, the breeze blowing in, turning the white silk curtains into dancing ghosts, while a second set of much heavier curtains were all shoved and tied into the corners. The whole room was bright, with a white ceiling, yellow walls, light brown furniture and trim, and off-white carpet. It was double the size to all the other rooms, with its own bathroom and a porch that wrapped around the corner. Quite the first impression his boss had promised.
So was the woman coming out of the bathroom. Barefoot, hair damp, followed by a billow of steam, she paused as she saw him. Her skin-tight jeans and low-cut tank top clung to her, revealing a rather striking shape. Her mouth spread into a wide smile as she recognized him. He failed to do the same for her.
"Richard! It's been ages!"
"Y-yeah." She was the third one to hug him, and the most pleasant. She had spritzed perfume on, which mixed nicely with the shampoo she'd used. She brushed it off her shoulders as she leaned back, still touching his arms.
