YOLO_You Only Live Once

by Sue Seabury

  “Hello? Anybody home?”

  No dice. She had to go down to the dining area. It was empty of guests and no Ramsey, but Hugo was there doing his usual wiping and straightening. She really was having no luck this morning.

  “Um, hi.” She kept her eyes down. “Could you let me into the gift shop?”

  “Certainly,” Hugo said.

  Kat reached to straighten the salt and pepper automatically. Hugo apparently had the same idea. Their hands touched. She looked up.

  “What is it you’re looking for?” he asked.

  She lowered her gaze and headed for the gift shop. “Does it matter?”

  She felt rather than saw his surprise at her rudeness. She was hungover, needed coffee and was still embarrassed that she couldn’t squash her attraction to him. She didn’t want him to know any of these things.

  “I was merely offering to get them for you, to save you the trouble of searching.”

  “Maybe I want trouble,” Kat mumbled.

  Hugo cleared his throat and walked faster. Kat didn’t try to keep up.

  He held the door open. Kat passed through without looking at him. Her head ached. She didn’t feel like browsing. “I need ibuprofen and I wanted a field guide too. And a map of the island.”

  “It’s a shame you didn’t say something back at the bar. I had ibuprofen there.”

  Of course he did. Coffee, too. Kat pinched her eyebrows.

  “I have maps at the front desk,” Hugo said. “What is a field guide? A different sort of map?”

  Kat’s brain wasn’t working. She made page-flipping motions with her hands. “No, it’s like a sort of almanac of the local plants and animals.”

  “I see. I don’t have one of those in the shop, but I will be happy to call around for you to find one.”

  “That’s okay. Never mind. Let’s stick with the ibuprofen and the map.”

  “The thing is, I don’t sell ibuprofen either.”

  “Nobody ever needs ibuprofen? With the amount people drink around this joint?”

  Hugo shrugged. “I guess they bring it with them. But I will start stocking it.” He nodded decisively.

  Kat’s shoulders sagged. She was an unprepared drunk. Great.

  “I keep the first aid backpack under the counter, in the drawer nearest the floor,” Hugo said. “I will go get you a map and meet you in the dining room.”

  Kat took her time leaving the shop. He was being nice, trusting her alone in here, but it was professional nice. She shook her broodiness off. She needed to stop harping on this idea that they might get together. It would never work.

  “Do you want me to lock up?” she called.

  No answer.

  Leaving it unlocked, she returned to the dining area and made a beeline for the bar where she rooted out the first aid kit. She took three ibuprofen but didn’t want him to see her take that many. She poured herself coffee, then popped the pills and followed with a big swig.

  The coffee was too hot. She coughed it all up. Burning brown liquid ran inside the v-neck of her turquoise top. “Gah!”

  She pulled the neck away, but it pooled in her shelf bra.

  Of course Hugo showed up at that moment. “Are you all right?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Hugo went away again and returned quickly with a cup. “Here.” He dropped a few ice cubes down the front of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?!” The ice made her nipples go hard, very visible through the thin fabric.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just thought, ice for a burn . . .” He backed away.

  Kat felt around, but the slippery buggers kept sliding away. Finally, after stretching out her shirt and probably giving Hugo a free show, she got them all out. She sank into a chair.

  Hugo held up a little tube. “Burn cream?”

  The coffee and melted ice were bleeding through the fabric. Big, brownish blotches circled both boobs. She had to laugh.

  “Does that mean the ice helped?” Hugo’s forehead was still creased.

  “Yeah, I mean, I guess. I feel the headache again so it must have. It’s just, it kind of looks like chocolate milk. So I was thinking, if moms could make chocolate breast milk . . . And then you offered me that cream, like the stuff for sore nipples.” Kat wiped her eyes. Why the hell was she talking to this man about nipple cream? She must be losing her mind. “You have kids?”

  “Not married.” His adam’s apple bobbed. “Yet.”

  “That hardly stops anyone these days.”

  He looked at the floor. “I guess I’m old-fashioned, then.”

  Her too. Like wanting the guy to make the first move.

  He was standing right next to her three regurgitated ibuprofens dissolving in a pool of coffee. Not exactly a steamy-love-scene sort of setting.

  He pulled the ever-present cloth from his waistband and wiped up the mess. Then he went to the bar and returned with three more ibuprofen and a glass of water. “Safer to take this way.”

  Kat swallowed them together like a pro. Her embarrassment had already peaked. Nothing she did mattered now. “Thank you.”

  He returned to the bar and poured a cup of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “For me? Black is fine.”

  “Just tell me what you want. I don’t mind making it.”

  “Okay, maybe a little sugar and cream. I’m on vacation, after all.”

  Hugo placed a white porcelain mug in front of her and stood nearby, like a prison guard. Kat took an obedient sip. It tasted like dessert. The medicine, caffeine and sugar worked like magic on her aches and nerves. “Thank you. Much better.”

  “Here is your map.” He placed the folded rectangle of paper down with a snap. “But if you’re planning to go for a hike, I hope you go with someone.”

  “Oh, yes,” Kat lied. “I figured I’d hook up with . . .” She couldn’t remember their names. Only Rude Roots, Special Snowflake, Helmet Head and Tiny Tot came to mind. Oh, no. The tests were wrong. She might actually have early-onset dementia. “The other women.”

  “They are down at the beach doing yoga. I think you are right about the exercise classes being a good draw.”

  He only cared about work. “Yeah,” she said. “I bet you could just write down whatever those gals do and that’d make the perfect regimen.”

  Hugo laughed.

  Only when she wasn’t trying to be funny did he find her humorous.

  “Thank you again for all your ideas,” he said. “I made a call about the field guide. I found someone who has one that you can borrow today. But if you want one to take home with you, I can order it for you.” His eyebrows went up in question. He was the perfect host. Correct, distant, no interest in her beyond that.

  “Borrowing one for the day is fine. Thank you.” She turned and looked out at the picture-perfect scene. Blue water framed by all sorts of plants she didn’t know the names of. She didn’t care what they were called anymore.

  “Breakfast before you hike?” Hugo said. “Another omelette?”

  “I’m good. I’ll wait. I like to earn my breakfast.”

  “Like the yoga ladies.”

  Kat lowered her head. “Yes, just like them.”

  “A bottle of water to take with you?” Hugo stepped behind the bar and pulled one out.

  “I’m good. I have plenty back at my room, which is where I’m headed now.” Kat gestured at the mess that used to be her favorite tank top.

  “If you leave that shirt out, I will have it laundered for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kat couldn’t take the cold professionalism any longer. “I’ll leave it on my door handle.”

  “No need. Just leave it visible in, say, your bathroom? Someone will be by to make up your room. I will instruct them to take care of your shirt.”

  Kat walked away. “Someone” would come by. Not him. Something told her that her daily bouquets were about to stop too.

  *

>   Kat changed into a pink tank top, all the while debating whether or not to leave her shirt out. It seemed silly to ruin it just to teach Hugo a lesson he wouldn’t get anyway. She left it soaking in the sink. No reason to let the stain set. The housekeeper might not be along for hours.

  The PTAs were doing an aerobic kind of yoga on the pier, complete with mats and hand weights. How much extra would they have paid to carry actual weights in their luggage?

  She shook her head to empty it of Darren-style thinking.

  She didn’t want to join in the competitive yoga. No one had spotted her yet—

  RuPTA caught her eye at that exact moment.

  Kat waved and hurried down the nearest path. It looked like the one Ramsey had shown them the day before, but she wasn’t sure. As soon as she was out of sight of the pier, she stopped and pulled out the map. It showed the whole island and she found the turtle beach easily. The question was, where was the resort in relation to it? The map wasn’t detailed enough to show walking paths. She snuck back to the pier and looked around. Yes; this was the path Ramsey had shown them. He also said it was easy. She’d be fine.

  22

  What she would have given for Hugo’s machete. And a pair of hiking boots with spikes. She hadn’t realized how worn down the treads on her sneakers were and the rocks were quite steep. At least she was getting a good workout. She would earn her breakfast.

  After several attacks by invisible biting insects and numerous whacks in the face by various leafy branches, she slid on a rock and skinned her shin, the one that hadn’t been scraped at the blowhole. Now she had matching scrapes.

  Ramsey saying “it’ll last you for hours” came back to her. What if it actually tookfour hours?

  It was hot. Caught up in deciding what to do with her stained tank top, she’d forgotten to bring water. Karmic payback for thinking about doing something petty.

  Black grit stuck to the blood on her leg. She found a shaded spot and sat down to pick out the dirt.

  She was getting all beat up on this vacation. It made her think of Carver and how he used to proudly display his “war wounds” as she called them. She missed him.

  Her heart ached to turn back and call him, but he wouldn’t be impressed with her giving up before making it to the beach. She swept the biggest pieces of gravel from her leg and kept going.

  The final descent made her wonder if she was really in the right place, not to mention how she was going to get back up again. But it was worth it. Incredible views, lots of dramatic rocky outcroppings with waves crashing into them, some good shells, and a turtle! Just one, but after her ordeal to get there, it was nice to actually see the prize. Of course she’d forgotten her phone so her only picture would be mental.

  Keeping her distance so as to not frighten it, she watched it push through the sand in a painfully slow manner. Was she like that, taking the hard path? Was there an easier one?

  The place was beautiful and enchanting but she was thirsty. Time to head back.

  Climbing up the rocks proved easier than getting down. She got better at ducking around rogue branches and the flies seemed to have gone away. The route back to the resort seemed half as long as the way out had.

  She emerged back onto the pier, triumphant, sweaty, and starving. Even though she didn’t really want to be seen like this, she didn’t bother to go back to her room to shower. If the others were up and about, she had an interesting story to tell.

  The dining area was clear of people. She made a beeline for the fresh-squeezed juice. The grapefruit tasted even more heavenly than it had under the falo with Hugo. The second glass was just as good.

  “You’re back.” Hugo was beside her, his eyes darting up and down her body. “You didn’t go with the others.”

  Her gut twinged. She told herself it was hunger. She didn’t owe him explanations. “They weren’t done with yoga when I was ready to go.”

  The floor shook when he sank into a nearby chair. Only then did she understand how light on his feet he normally was.

  “You didn’t tell me where you were going.” His hands clenched and unclenched. “I had no idea where to begin to look.”

  Another thing Kat didn’t like about Darren was his overprotectiveness. In the beginning, she found it charming, proof that he cared. As time went on, though, it smothered her the way the oak leaves did the lawn every fall.

  “Who said you had to look for me? I don’t need a babysitter. I was fine on my own.” She bent her knee to hide the scraped shin.

  Hugo saw. He picked up his hands and dropped them. They made a loudsmack on his green sarong. He pushed himself to standing. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

  “It’s just a scrape. I don’t need it. I don’t need you to do anything for me.”

  Hugo stared at her. Kat quivered. She needed to eat. After setting her glass down deliberately, she sat in the chair he had just been in and looked out at the ocean. “Except maybe to make me some breakfast. An omelette would be perfect.”

  Hugo left without another word. She expected him to come back with his giant roll of gauze. Instead, he returned with a piping hot omelette stuffed with avocado, peppers, and all sorts of other deliciousness. It smelled so good, she could have fainted.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He walked away, then returned with the first aid backpack. “If you want it.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Kat was glad no one was nearby to watch her inhale the omelette. It was the most delicious thing she ever remembered eating.

  Did that mean her mind was going? Surely she’d eatensomething better than eggs in her life. She stuck her finger in the pool of juice that was left on the plate. The complex flavors made her swoon again. Nope. Nothing better came to mind.

  “Thank you,” she called out.

  No answer.

  “I’ll bring the first aid stuff back after I shower and get cleaned up.”

  No answer.

  Why had she bothered to explain? He didn’t care. She shouldered the bag and headed for her room.

  23

  Before she got ten steps beyond the dining area, she ran into the PTAs.

  “Oh. You’re back. Hugo was worried about you.” RuPTA seemed to have no recollection of seeing her down on the pier. Furthermore, she seemed displeased that Hugo had mentioned it. Gone was the camaraderie of the evening before. The idea that Hugo cared gave Kat a pang; she shook it off. It was professional concern. Nothing more.

  “I was fine,” she said. “Just went to turtle beach. It was great.”

  “It was okay,” SS said.

  Kat wasn’t going to let this manicured know-it-all ruin her fond memory. “I thought it was beautiful. And the turtle was so adorable, flapping around in the sand. It was a little heartbreaking actually, to see it struggle like that.”

  Four pairs of eyes were on her. “You saw a turtle?”

  “Yeah. Just one though.”

  A general cry of annoyance went up. Apparently, they hadn’t seen any the day before.

  “Hmph,” SS said. “Would’ve been nice to ask us along. Hugo said you were coming to find us.”

  Again Kat looked RuPTA. She got a blank stare in return. “Um, I didn’t think you’d want to go again. I didn’t know you didn’t see any turtles.”

  SS clearly didn’t like to be one-upped. “Ever try paddleboarding?”

  “Yeah.” Kat shrugged casually. Her affirmative clearly did not please. She added, “I like it better than surfing. More relaxing. I’d do it again.”

  “We’re going now.” Helmet Head said in a cool-girl simper. “Wanna tag along?”

  Kat didn’t care for the condescending tone, but her only plan had been to take a shower. Might as well get in another workout before she did that. “Let me grab my suit.”

  “Meet you down on the beach,” Helmet Head said. “Or do you need us to wait to show you where to go?”

  The veneer of friendly concern was as thin as ice. About as
warm, too.

  “I know where it is. Thanks for asking.”

  The PTAs tromped off while Kat ran in to get her suit, racking her brain the whole time to remember their names. Even one. Nothing came.

  She could ask Hugo, but she didn’t want to. She could invite Pete and his friends along, except that was basically an invitation for a cat fight. Queenie would probably know their names. Kat would ask her to come as a peace offering.

  She gave a few swipes of antibacterial ointment to her shin — no point in putting on a bandage; it would wash away — and ran out the door, straightening the straps of her suit as she went.

  She banged on Queenie’s door. “It’s me. Kat.”

  No answer.

  “We’re going paddleboarding. Wanna come?”

  The door slammed open. Queenie’s hair was askew, as were her eyebrows. The V-neck of her leopard print silk pajamas was dangerously off-center. “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “The PTAs.”

  Queenie had been halfway out the door despite being clad in only a revealing teddy. She slumped back inside. “Why would I want to go with them?”

  “Um, for fun? Because we’re here to have new and exciting experiences? Because the group rate will probably be cheaper? And you never know when the Cig— Stan might show up.”

  “Nice try, but I happen to have personal information he’s sleeping off the better part of a bottle of brandy.”

  Kat took a step back. She didn’t want to see any of his bare flab so soon after eating. “Oh? How personal?”

  “Ha, you’re funny. He’s not here. Come in for a sec.”

  Kat stepped in the door and looked around for a bathing suit. The room looked like a clothes tornado had hit. “So will you come and keep me company?”

  “I dunno.” Queenie collapsed into the lounger. Her neckline veered dangerously to the side and her eyes shut. Kat waited a few moments, but it sounded like Queenie had fallen back to sleep.

  “If you’re not a morning person, I understand. But they’re waiting so I’d better get going. Hey, by the way, do you remember any of their names?”

  Queenie opened her eyes and rolled so hard, Kat saw only white for a second. “You’d never make it as a CI, Huggy Bear.”