I don’t know what I was expecting out of this luau, but it wasn’t Avery coming over to us with a plate of fresh mango and a pineapple shaped bong. He’s got a crown of flowers in his hair, and as the sun sets he’s looking as glazed and happy as a jelly donut on a Hawaiian beach. “Try this, man,” he offers. I take the fruit but say no to the bong, and Charlotte does the same.

“I feel like we sort of stick out.” She nibbles on her mango while scanning the crowd of beachy regulars. It’s true. Everyone else is about one stiff breeze away from being totally naked. Apart from the lei of white flowers the girls gave her when we arrived, Charlotte’s in a floral, floor length muumuu. Somehow, even in that long, loose dress, she’s the sexiest woman here.

Tell her that, Justin. Make her feel as desirable as she is. That voice in my head is egging me on, but I’m still too ashamed. I don’t want my wife to look on me with anything like pity if I tried romancing her too hard. After all we went through two years ago, and after all this time like ships passing in the night, she’d see it as a desperate attempt to get back to the way things were. I can’t have that. Instead, I clear my throat and say, “Hungry? Looks like they have paper plates and greasy food. Perfect for a first night dinner.”

“You take me to the nicest places.” She giggles, and I try not to let it hit me in the heart. Is she joking? Or is there some hint of truth to that? What if I’m doing this honeymoon all wrong, and we’ve only gotten started?

And what if we get dragged into doing the hula later on? Already I can see a couple of middle-aged hotel guests who’ve wandered to this side of the beach, and they’re wearing grass skirts and gyrating fervently to some ukulele music. It’s enough to make you wonder if you’re still sane.

I kiss Charlotte once, and head over to the fire pit. There’s plenty of food on display, from skewered and roasted pineapple to some kind of grilled fish. As I load up two plates, there’s some guy that sidles up to me. He’s thin and kind of pasty, with the look of a Midwestern tourist who took a stopover in paradise and is regretting it. Too much scalp, and a tight, unhappy grimace on his face. Poor bastard.

“This place is kinda dive-y,” he sniffs at me. He even goes so far as to slug me in the arm. I pull my shoulders back and look at him square in the eye. I’m pretty easygoing, but we don’t know each other well enough for that kind of bro-y douchebaggery.

“I think that’s part of the charm,” I tell him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He glares at some of the young women from the beach. They’re laughing and dancing to the music. “Bet those’d never give me the time of day. Just like every other woman around here. You looking to score?”

I think I’m close to putting this asshole in a headlock. “No. I’m married,” I say evenly.

“Your loss. Bet they’d actually get with a guy like you,” the asshole grumbles, taking a swig out of a beer.

“Like I said, I’m married. I’ve got a little insight into women. Want my advice?” I lean in closer, and the creep jumps back. Nice. “Stop treating women like hateful objects, and they might just give you the time of day.”

The creep only mutters, probably something profane, and slouches away. Great. I catch the eye of a couple of the hotel attendants wearing crisp white polo shirts. One of them looks at the guy, then at me, and rolls his eyes. Great. Apparently I’m not the only one getting an earful today.

I pick up the plates and return to Charlotte, who’s watching some beach kids twirl flaming batons. She looks half delighted, half horrified. “Here. I’m pretty sure we should get away from the flame squad,” I tell her, handing over dinner. She groans at the sight of the fish tacos.

“What would I do without you?” She rests her head against my shoulder as we walk away. My skin is on fire at her touch, my blood boiling. Fuck, I think I’m a little hard just at the scent of her perfume. I’m not backing away tonight. I’m not going to let my shame get the better of me. I want to possess this woman I’m married to, utterly. I want her to feel how special she is, how much she means.

When we’re a comfortable distance from the party, I pull her close against me. I feel her gasp as she senses my arousal. “Justin.” She looks down, and part of me is ashamed. She’s embarrassed. She doesn’t know how to tell me she’s not in the mood.

Fuck off with that. Charlotte’s never been afraid to tell me anything in her life. I doubt she’ll start now.

“Is this good?” I whisper before capturing her mouth in a kiss. She moans, her lips parting. She gasps in surprise as my tongue flickers inside her mouth, then returns me stroke for stroke. A deep, insatiable hunger is rising within me. I don’t remember what happens to our food; I think I threw it into the sand. Such is life.

“Yes,” she murmurs, which urges a growl out of me in return. My hand fists in her hair, and I line her up against my body. She gasps again, and her hips move against mine. Fuck it. I don’t care if we’re near a luau, with hula dancers and marijuana. I am ready to throw my wife down in the sand, strip off her dress, and show her my—

“Pig.” That’s Charlotte’s word, not mine. She looks over my shoulder, eyes wide. “Babe, there’s a dead pig staring straight at us. I’m so sorry, but it’s killing my mood.”

I turn around, and yes, there is a roast, suckling pig being licked by the flames of a fire. Damn, all I can think of now is that character Babe, from Sage’s favorite movie. If she were here, she’d burst into tears.

I think Charlotte’s right. We need to get the kids off our minds as best we can right now.

“We’ll table this for later, then.” I kiss her once more, but I could kick that delicious pig in the snout for this. Every time we get close to getting closer, something slides into the way. It almost makes you wonder if it’s fate.

“Son of a bitch!”

That cry comes from the other side of the fire pit. Both Charlotte and I flinch when we hear it. It sounds like, and indeed is, the creepy little weasel who was skulking around the buffet earlier. He’s dancing around in the sand, holding his hand close to his chest. His eyes are squinty as he points at one of the baton twirlers. The poor girl looks horrified. “You idiot! You burned my hand!” he howls, shoving the injured appendage in the poor kid’s face. Her knees are practically knocking together.

“I’m sorry! You took a swing at me!” she cries. Everyone’s riveted on the scene now. The man snorts.

“It’s called making a pass, you brainless—” He gets interrupted by one of the hotel guys in white polos coming over. The kid looks furious as he gets in the man’s face.

“Sir, maybe you should get your hand looked at.” His voice is ice, and the creep only sneers at the poor boy.

“I’m suing the hotel for this. You can’t have untrained fire dancers on your property, and you can’t be rude to your guests!”

The kid is about to yell and make this worse. On instinct, I step in between them. The creep looks me up and down and snorts. “Great, just what I need. Some Ken doll to the rescue.”

“You have no right to take legal recourse against the resort.” I narrow my eyes at him. “The demarcation line between the hotel property and the public beach is at least a hundred feet that way.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Also, the hotel staff isn’t here on duty. Isn’t that right?” I look over at the kid, who jerks his head in a nod.

“Yeah. We’re just here for the party,” he grumbles.

“Like I said. You have no legal recourse to take, especially when you tried to grab a girl wielding a flaming baton. In fact, if you don’t want a sexual harassment lawsuit aimed at you, I’d suggest leaving the party now. I’m sure the hotel has a doctor who can give you some burn ointment.”

I cross my arms over my chest, and the creep flushes red. He finally pushes past me, grumbling as he tromps away from the party and back towards the hotel. There’s a smattering of applause, much of it from the baton girl and the two middle-aged guys in hula skirts and Hawaiian shirts. As the sun sets down over the ocean, casting a blood red and orange light over the party, I feel kind of in the spotlight.

And it feels good. Especially when I catch Charlotte’s eye, and see her watching me with…I want to say it’s pride.

Nothing could make me feel taller or more confident than that look. The kid from the hotel shakes my hand, but I can’t stop staring at my wife.

“Dude, you’re the best. Thanks for that. I was about to punch that jackass,” the kid says. I clap his shoulder.

“No worries. Glad I could help.” And with that, I return to my bride. She’s snatched a couple of fruit punches in the meantime, and hands one to me. It tastes spiked. Excellent.

“What should we do now?” Charlotte purrs, taking a deep drink of her punch. She cuddles close to me as they bring out a limbo stick, and everyone starts going to drunken town, trying their best to go under.

“I say let’s do our best with that thing,” I say, nodding at the limbo. “You know. To limber us up for…later.”

Charlotte clinks plastic cups with me. “I’ll drink to that,” she whispers, her eyes hooded with lust. I take a large, healthy swig of sugary alcohol. This night cannot get any better.

This night got a lot worse. I should have remembered to stretch before limbo-ing, because you can’t be as damn young as you were. My back’s twinged now, and Charlotte’s got my arm around her shoulders, helping me back to the hotel path. I know I’ll be fine by morning, but our nightly activities are going to have to be postponed.

Son of a bitch.

“It’s okay,” Charlotte soothes, helping me down the path to the pool. The pools are lit up, all brilliant aquamarine against the velvet tropical darkness. At least we won’t fall in. That’s some comfort.

“So our first day was hit and miss.” I wince a little, but lean over and kiss her. “Tomorrow. I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” She nestles against me, more than I can possibly deserve. I’m so fixated on her I almost don’t notice the kid running towards us out of the darkness. In fact, I almost walk straight into him—he comes the hell out of nowhere.

“Hey!” It’s the boy from the beach, the one who nearly punched the jerk in the face. He grins at us, all the while trying to catch his breath. “I told my boss about you. Mr. Lee. He owns the whole resort, and he said you might’ve saved us some legal trouble. He wants to say thank you.”

“Well that’s…nice of him.” How do I politely tell this kid to get out of here? Maybe Emma’s right. I’m too agreeable for my own good.

“He wanted to offer you both a complimentary outing tomorrow. You ever been snorkeling?” He doesn’t wait for our response. “It’s by this amazing reef a mile or so off shore. There’re supposed to be sea turtles this time of year. It’s incredible.”

“That’s nice,” I start to say, and want to finish with ‘but I’m going to be entangled in a day of eroticism with my wife tomorrow starting first thing, and I only want to be disturbed for room service.’ However, Charlotte lights up.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling. I was a marine studies major in college,” she tells the kid conversationally. I want to go find a palm tree and bang my head against it a few times. I need to stop helping people in legal snafus. It only keeps me from getting laid. “Babe, can we go?”

“Of course,” I say, because how the hell am I going to say no to my wife when she’s excited? Another morning up early, and without sex.

These fish had better be fucking amazing.