Holly Winter: Living the Life of Holly: #134 Rocky Honeymoon

Living the Life of Holly
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Column # 134 Rocky Honeymoon

The beaches of Huelva, Spain would be a great place to spend a honeymoon. Except that we aren't married. And. There's a HUGE problem. Is he a rock collector too?

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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
Rocky Honeymoon

“Where you going, little Missy?” Came the sleepy voice from the bed.

“I’m going to watch the sun wake up the beach.” I said, softly.

“Without me?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’d go to the beach without me?”

I laughed. “Consider yourself invited…”

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Nope. I’d love your company.”

We pulled on bathing suits and shorts and sweatshirts and exited through the lobby.

“Do you like your room?” The receptionist who checked us in the night before asked.

“Yes.” Cool-guy stammered. “It’s wonderful.”

“I gave you a room with a view. You looked so tired when you got here. The taxi driver told me that you had been driving around for a long time looking for a room.”

“Yes.” I said. It was puzzling to have someone being friendly after we had been mostly ignored in Portugal.

“We want you to have a great honeymoon.” She smiled.

Cool-guy smiled. “Thanks so much. I want to have a great honeymoon too.”

“Me too.” I laughed. “That’s the only kind to have.”

It was clear to me that everything was going to be better in Spain.

We wandered down the boardwalk out to the ocean and started walking away from the sun.

“I love this.” I smiled. “Walking on the beach early in the morning… it is a very favorite thing for me to do.”

“Me too.” He said, studying me. “How come you didn’t get upset when she said that ‘honeymoon’ word?”

“Don’t know. It was funny, that’s why.”

“Hmmm.”

“Do you start all your relationships with honeymoons?” I asked.

“No…”

“Well. I think you should. Cause. It’s the only way to go.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I saw the perfect rock. Smooth. Round. Looked like a little coin. I leaned down to pick it up right as Cool-guy leaned down to pick it up. We clunked heads. I was stunned, but managed to grab it before he did.

“Did you want that rock just because you saw me going for it?” I asked, indignantly.

“No. I saw it first.” He laughed, rubbing his head. “Are you ok? I mean. You bumped you head. That didn’t give you a seizure, did it?”

“Don’t know.” I said, rubbing the sand off my rock. I saw another smooth rock a few feet ahead and walked towards it.

“No you don’t…”

“What?” I asked…. and broke into a run. So did he. We both reached the rock at the same time. I pushed him. He pushed me back. I kicked sand. It didn’t matter. The man was far stronger than I was. And his arms were way longer.

He easily held me back while he slowly leaned down and plucked the rock from the sand.

“Hey. No fair. I wanted that rock.”

“Too bad you didn’t get to it first.” He chided.

I turned and saw another perfect specimen. He saw it too and gave chase. I dove head first. He yelled and kicked sand. I didn’t care. That rock was my goal. I wasn’t giving up. I got it. He tickled and swatted at me. Nope. The rock was mine.

He took off after another rock.

“Wait.” I panted after him. “Wait a minute.”

He turned around.

“Do you generally collect rocks?”

“Yes. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to impress me.”

“What?”

“You know. Like when you vacuumed out your car before our first date.”

“I didn’t vacuum my car.”

I almost lost all my fight. “You car’s always that clean?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “And for your information, that wasn’t clean.”

“You’re trying to change the subject.” I huffed. ”Do you have references that would swear that you’re a rock collector?”

“What do you mean, references? I was a Geology major in college before I went to cooking school.”

“Well. My friend Veronique will vouch for me that when I traveled with her to the beach in France, I carried home more rocks than clothes. And Mark will also vouch that I am known for collecting rocks every where I go. Ralph has been trying to get me to give up my rock collection for years. I’m known for collecting heart rocks, but all decent rocks are my game.”

“Do you have these references in writing?”

“No. But I can get them in half a day.” I said, lunging for a nearby rock. Ha. I got it before he had any idea that I was after it.

He walked up to me. “You really collect rocks?” He kissed me lightly.

“Yes. Really.” I said, seriously.

“So do I.”

“I don’t know if this relationship is going to work.” I said, breaking his gaze so I could run for another rock. Nope. He got it first.

“Yeah. Now you tell me.” He said, going for a rock near his feet. He got it. “You could have told me before I took you on our honeymoon.”

“This IS the best honeymoon I’ve ever had.” I laughed, reaching for a rock that was next to his foot. I got it. “Nobody ever told me I could have a honeymoon without having a marriage first. It’s way more fun this way.”

“Yeah? You keep going for the rocks in my perimeter and it might be the LAST honeymoon you ever have.”

I laughed. “Oh. I’m not worried about the competition. This is the last morning you’ll be invited to walk with me on the beach before breakfast. I’m going to be coming out here alone to collect all the good rocks before you wake up.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, pulling me close. “Then it will be my goal to be sure that you aren’t able to make it out of bed in the morning.”

“Fat chance.” I said, weakly. He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

He pulled me into a long, hard kiss. I forgot who I was. Where was I? What was I doing?

He gently lifted the rocks out of my hands. I let him. I was totally dazed.

He laughed. “You’re not so tough after a kiss, are you?” He added his rocks to my starter collection and rattled them in front of me.

He kissed me again. Dazed. I was totally dazed.

He laughed. “You become all weak after a kiss. If I didn’t know any better I would think you hadn’t been kissed in years.”

“What?”

He jiggled the rocks a moment longer and poured them into the pockets of my shorts. “Any rocks I gather on this trip are yours.” He said, softly.

“Oh.” I smiled. “Ok. Um. What?”

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