Read Online Meet Me in Barcelona by Mary Carter - Free Book Online

much of it and she would burn. She wanted to warn Jake about skin cancer, but she never wanted to be one of those women who harped, or mothered. It was a slippery slope, and with Jake it was particularly tough to follow—he was impulsive; she was careful. Live and let live. She did, however, offer several times to help him put on sunscreen. He took one look at the giant bottle with SPF 50 in huge red letters and shook his head.
    â€œYou know they say there’s no definitive proof that anything over SPF 30 offers much more protection,” he said.
    â€œAre you saying if I had SPF 30 you would wear it?” Grace asked.
    â€œNah. I’m fine, sweetie.”
    You’re fine right now. Later you might turn into a lobster. I’ll pay the price if you don’t want to go dancing or make love because your back is on fire.
    â€œIf I let you put it on me will it make you stop staring at me as if I’m about to burst into flames?” Jake asked playfully.
    â€œYes, it will,” Grace said, grabbing the bottle before he could change his mind. “It really will.” Jake sat up, giving Grace access to his shoulders and back. His skin and muscles felt so nice and taut beneath her fingertips. Maybe she’d surprise him with Spanish guitar lessons one of these days. On his chest she outlined a little heart with her fingertips. She hoped it would work. Make theirs a love that lasted. She often indulged in little superstitions like that, just like the pancake pan she had bought, etched with little smiley faces. It was the simple things in life that got Grace through. She finished her artwork and handed him the sunscreen.
    â€œDo me,” she said.
    â€œAgain?” Jake said. “This is a vacation.” She laughed, and he pulled her in and kissed her. In Spain, on the beach, kissing. See, Marsh Everett? Life didn’t have to be baring your soul; sometimes it was baring your body. Then slathering it with SPF 50. “Is this waterproof?” Jake asked.
    â€œYou have to ask?” Grace said.
    â€œThen let’s go.” Jake stood, reached for her hand, and pulled her to her feet.
    â€œWhat about my purse?” Grace said. Jake glanced down at her little black satchel.
    â€œDo you have a lot in there?”
    â€œFifty euros, a credit card, the key to the room, and my passport,” Grace said. Jake looked around. The beach was crowded, and they were situated in the middle, about ten feet from the ocean.
    â€œTuck it under your towel. Then we’ll pile our sandals and clothes on top. I’ll keep an eye on it and run like hell if anyone goes near it.”
    â€œMy hero,” Grace said.
    â€œYou shouldn’t carry your passport around. And maybe we’ll get a little waterproof pouch so you can carry your money in here.” He took his finger and slowly outlined her bikini top.
    â€œYou’re going to drive me crazy if you keep doing that,” Grace said.
    â€œGood,” Jake said. “You know how I like to drive.” Grace swatted him away, then hid her purse under the towel and piled all of their things on top of it. Jake was right; she needed a better system. Don’t leave it, her little voice told her. Take turns swimming . But she wanted to hold on to Jake in the ocean, feel the waves crash over their bodies, kiss in the Mediterranean. It would be fine, she told herself. Next time she’d have a better plan.
    The water was warm and soft, like a relaxing bath. Grace spread her arms wide and paddled her legs in a lazy circular motion. After just a few minutes she felt lighter than she had in years. Jake wrapped his arms around her and scooped his hands under her legs, joyfully lifting her up in the water. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed. How long since they’d done this? The two of them working nonstop. Jake worked mostly days; Grace evenings and weekends. Remember this. Take a snapshot in your mind; hold