He’s Such a Nice Guy – for NYCMidnight’s Flash Fiction Challenge

“Good morning, gorgeous,” I could hear the familiar voice calling from the front of the shop.

Steve always stopped by with something fresh from the farm to share before the day got busy. I sat the tea-pot on the hot plate and went out to say hello.

“What’s fresh today, my friend? Tomatoes, cucumber, little green onions?”

“I thought I’d drop by with something special,” Steve smiled.

It was a full and genuine smile that crinkled a bit around blue eyes glittering with mischief. A sweet exotic fragrance was just beginning to fill the shop when Steve presented me with a huge bunch of star-gazer lilies.

“It’s certainly no watermelon,” I gasped and greedily snapped them from him.

I could happily paint myself in bright orange pollen to be able to bury my face in a bunch of star-gazers.

“What brought this on,” I asked

“Nothing much, really,” Steve continued to smile. “The sun was shining, the surf was up, and I felt like sharing a bit of the Creator’s handiwork with you today.”

To say the least, Steve was anything but typical. Sure the sun bleached long hair, deep tan, and lean body fit in just fine on the Pacific Shores boardwalk. But, he was also a bit of a hippie and ran an organic produce store next to my surf shop. His store’s success was due more to his magnetic personality than anyone’s particular desire for fresh green beans. Everybody loved the philosophical purveyor of produce. There was never a shortage of women next door, which certainly was a good excuse for the guys to come in and browse through the boards and gear in my shop.

Something in his demeanor was different, more intense, that morning. I felt drawn to him. He put his hands about my waist and pulled me close to his side.

“Danielle,” he whispered, “close up the shop and run away with me for the day.” His suggestion was warm and sultry on the back of my neck. “The day is going to be incredibly beautiful. If you step out on the boardwalk, you can hear the song of the surf. Why stay indoors, doing what we can do any day? Carpe Diem, Danielle. Let’s seize today and live the way the Creator intended, in tune with His creation.” He sealed the suggestion on my skin with a velvety kiss.

The thought was so powerful, I was nearly breathless. I turned in his arms to face him.

“But, Steve,” I started to object, but he covered my mouth in his and kissed the life out of the objection.

Releasing the kiss he backed away only as far as the ends of our noses. “I have fresh mangos and strawberries, dark chocolate, and champagne. Come lay on the beach and celebrate the day with me,” he purred softly against my lips.

My body began to give in to the deep caressing strokes he ran along my back. My lips fell again upon his and a consuming passion ignited.

Then a sharp angry whistling noise began assaulting my ears. Steve walked in the door just as I lifted my chin from my palm.

“Good morning, gorgeous. Daydreaming so early?” He was carrying a small crate of mangos. “I wasn’t kidding yesterday when I told you about my mango tree,” his smile caused the skin around his eyes to crinkle.

It was then that I realized it was the tea-pot screaming, about to boil over. I scurried back to take it off the hot plate.

“I need to get back to the store, Danielle. Come by for lunch later,” he called as he set the brass bell above the surf shop door jingling on his way out.

“He’s such a nice guy,” I thought to myself. “Someday I should tell him what all the daydreams have been about.

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