by Ari McKay
“Good! Just give me a tap if you want to stop to look at anything!”
The road was bordered to the south by the pristine beaches of which the islanders were justifiably proud. Beyond the beaches, the ocean spread out over half the horizon in turquoise splendor, deepening to sapphire where the sea floor dropped away. Devin pointed out some of the popular spots on the island as they passed, including Bats Cave Beach and the Caybrew Brewery, and farther east, past Bodden Town, the Pirates’ Caves. He would have loved to take Paul into the Crystal Caves on the north side of the island, but they wouldn’t have time before the ship sailed that evening.
Thirty minutes after they’d departed, Devin left the road and took the moped onto an area of hard-packed sand and gravel where several cars were parked.
“Here we are. Miss Jo’s. It’s the best food on the island,” Devin said as he dismounted.
The house itself was a rambling, whitewashed structure with a blue roof. There were several parts to the house, as though it had been added on to over the years as the needs of the family dictated. It wasn’t much from an architectural standpoint, but it was located on a beautiful stretch of beach and surrounded by palm trees and tropical flowers that gave it a laid-back charm. The air was rich with the scent of the sea overlaid with spices.
Devin led Paul around to one side of the building, where a stone path circled the house to the back. Here a large concrete patio dotted with picnic tables offered a view of the beach, and there were at least twenty people seated at the tables, chatting and eating from paper baskets and disposable plastic bowls. But despite the informality, Devin had found the food to be the equivalent of anything he’d eaten at a fine restaurant.
Devin walked up to an open window with a wide ledge where the food was being served. He beckoned Paul forward to meet the middle-aged woman with caramel-colored skin and hazel eyes standing within. Her curly dark hair was held back from her face by a bright red–and-yellow scarf.
“Paul, this is Miss Jo,” Devin said. “Miss Jo, Paul is making his first visit to your beautiful island, and I bragged about your food to him so much that I had to prove I wasn’t making it all up.”
Miss Jo smiled at Paul in a friendly fashion. “I’m always happy to have new customers,” she said, her voice tinged with the musical accent native to the island. “Especially such a lovely man.”
“No one could hold a candle to you, though,” Paul said, returning her smile as he held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Devin couldn’t help but raise one eyebrow at the way Paul replied. Obviously Paul could turn on the charm when he wanted to, and Devin felt a brief and irrational flare of jealousy at the warmth Paul was displaying. True, his relationship to Paul was professional, but he wouldn’t have minded Paul relaxing enough to consider him a friend.
“Ooo, aren’t you the charming one?” Miss Jo replied, giving Devin a sideways glance. “Here I thought this one was the most flirtatious devil to visit me from the ships. Or are you here to try to steal all my recipes too?”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with them if I had them,” Paul said, chuckling quietly. “My culinary skills don’t extend far beyond salads and sandwiches.”
“A big man like you needs more than salads and sandwiches,” Miss Jo said. She pointed to the menu board hung by the window. “What can I get you? I have the freshest seafood and the rarest of spices. All guaranteed to put meat on your bones and set your blood to simmering.” She gave Devin a broad wink. She seemed to have a finely tuned sense of people, and she had guessed Devin’s orientation within minutes of meeting him. No doubt she thought Paul was his boyfriend.
Devin glanced at Paul, hoping Paul hadn’t caught the wink. “It really is all good. I’ve had everything she makes, so I know you won’t go wrong with whatever you choose.”
Paul shot Devin a questioning look, but he didn’t comment on the wink. Instead, he looked at the menu board and then back at Miss Jo. “I’ll defer to the chef. What do you think I should have?”
Miss Jo grinned and pointed toward the tables. “You boys go have a seat, and I’ll bring you something special.”
Devin wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but he’d visited her place every time the ship made port on the island, so he’d gotten to know Miss Jo well enough to realize she had a streak of mischief in her makeup. Yet he could hardly protest in front of Paul, after having raved about the place and strong-arming Paul into coming with him, so he crossed his fingers, hoping Miss Jo wouldn’t say anything too outrageous and make Paul uncomfortable.
“We’d better do as she says,” he told Paul as he headed toward the seating area. “Miss Jo is a force of nature, and I’m half-convinced she uses magic to conjure up some of the dishes she serves.” He led Paul to a small table with an umbrella and a beautiful view of the unspoiled beach and sapphire water. “Will this do?”
Paul sat down and shifted his chair so he could take in the view, his expression softening with admiration. “It’s great,” he said.
“And this is only the first stop,” Devin said, adjusting his own seat so he, too, could watch the water. “Every island has a different feel, different people and customs, different food. It’s amazing the variety you find, even though there isn’t a great deal of distance between them. I’ve loved getting to know so many of them over the past six months. Hopefully you will too.”
Paul glanced over at Devin and offered a smile that seemed more relaxed than any Devin had seen before. “I’m sure I will.”
Devin returned the smile, pleased to see the island was working its magic on Paul. “It’s definitely an adventure.”
Before he could say more, Miss Jo approached the table, carrying a tray with a variety of dishes and two tall, frosted glasses. She placed the tray on the table, and Devin looked at the dishes, curious as to what she’d decided to serve them.
“I think you boys will like this,” she said. “Conch fritters, with my own special dipping sauce. Fried plantains that were hanging on the tree this very morning. And a rum punch that will go down as smooth as honey.”
Paul leaned over the tray and breathed in deeply. “Mm…. The fritters smell incredible.” He picked one up and dunked it in the sauce. An expression of bliss flitted across his face when he popped the fritter into his mouth, and he gave Devin a thumbs-up as he chewed.
“I think he likes them, Miss Jo,” Devin said, pleased with Paul’s response. “I really do need to find a way to wheedle your secrets from you!”
Miss Jo wagged her finger at him. “That won’t happen. If they got out, I’d lose the company of all you pretty boys. Now eat up, and enjoy the day.”
Devin turned his attention to the food as well, selecting a fritter and then dipping it in the sauce. He’d had Miss Jo’s concoction before, of course, but as he sampled the fritter, he thought he tasted more than just the chili and other spices he’d had before. There was a distinct woody note this time, and he made a mental note to ask Miss Jo about it.
They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the food and the scenery. The rum punch was as smooth as Miss Jo had said, but again he detected an unfamiliar note underlying the rum and coconut milk.
“Was it all that I promised?” Devin asked when Paul had swallowed the last delicious bite of plantain.
“Definitely.” Paul’s posture had relaxed as the rum punch took effect, and he appeared far more at ease now than he had at any point on the ship. “Both the food and the view are amazing.”
“Let me pay for our lunch, and then if you’d like, we can walk down to the beach,” Devin said as he rose to his feet. He collected up everything back onto the tray. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving Paul to enjoy the sun, Devin disposed of the paper trash and returned the tray and glasses to the window.
“Did you enjoy it?” Miss Jo asked, beaming at Devin with affection. “How about your man?”
“He’s not my man, Miss Jo,” Devin protested. “He’s a coworker f
rom the ship, that’s all. I was assigned to show him the ropes, and I thought he should learn about the high points of the islands as well as the workings on the ship.”
“You’re a smart boy,” Miss Jo said. She didn’t seem at all perturbed about his admission that Paul wasn’t his boyfriend. “He’s very pretty. You should keep him, Devin. I know a good match when I see one.”
Devin chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve only known him a few days. We’re not even friends yet,” he protested. Not that he would mind getting to know Paul much, much better. He pulled out his wallet and counted out the cost for their meal, adding a generous tip for Miss Jo’s hospitality. “By the way, I noticed you added a new spice to the sauce, and I think the same one is in the rum, isn’t it? What is it? It tasted quite woody.”
“You’ve a good tongue,” Miss Jo replied with a grin. “You should tell your man that.”
Laughing, Devin shook his head. “Enough with the matchmaking! Or are you trying to distract me from my question?”
“I suppose telling you one secret won’t hurt. It was just a little bois bande.”
“Wait… what?” Devin looked at her in surprise. “You put an aphrodisiac in the sauce?”
Bois bande was well known in the islands, reputed to make men virile and to inspire lust. The name meant “erection wood,” and he’d heard of it in his study of the local cuisine, though he’d never tried it. He felt his cheeks heating up, and he resisted the urge to smack his head against the wall of the house.
“It was just a smidgen,” Miss Jo replied with a casual shrug. “Enough to help with inspiration, that’s all. What you do with it… well, that’s up to you.”
“Great. Thanks, Miss Jo.” Devin shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know what to tell Paul.”
“Don’t tell him a thing. It’s only reputed to be an aphrodisiac, right? If there is nothing to the rumors, then nothing will happen.”
Devin hoped she was right. Not that he didn’t find Paul attractive—he definitely did—but he had no idea if Paul even thought of him in that way. It was probably best not to mention the spice and forget about it himself.
After bidding Miss Jo farewell, Devin returned to Paul. “How about that walk?”
Paul hesitated, frowning slightly, and then he took refuge in the neutral demeanor Devin was all too familiar with. “I suppose a short walk wouldn’t hurt.”
“Are you worried about walking in the sand?” Devin asked quietly. “It’s packed well along this stretch, so you shouldn’t have any problems.”
“It’s not that.” There was a flash of melancholy in Paul’s eyes before he blinked it away. “The last time I walked on the beach was with my ex.”
It was obvious from Paul’s demeanor that the “ex” must have made the choice to end the relationship, and Devin felt pretty certain he now knew where a lot of Paul’s insecurity stemmed from. He decided pragmatism was the best way to approach the situation, although there was a part of him that would have been happy to track down Paul’s ex and smack the shit out of him.
You didn’t even smack the last guy you went out with, a little voice inside his head taunted him. And he sure deserved it. Devin winced slightly at the reminder, knowing it was always easier to deal with someone else’s problems than his own. No doubt what had happened with Brad was different than what Paul had experienced, but Devin understood the pain of believing in someone and having his trust violated.
“If it hasn’t been long since your breakup, I imagine there’s probably going to be a lot of those ‘last time I did this it was with my ex’ sorts of situations. If it were me, I’d want to do things as much as possible to get past that mental roadblock, but we’ll do whatever you like. But if we take the walk, then the next one you take, you can think ‘the last time I walked on the beach was with a friend.’”
Paul’s eyebrows climbed at that, and Devin could practically see the “huh” thought balloon over his head. “It’s been a while since the breakup, but I still have a good number of firsts to get through,” he said. “My therapist would probably agree with you, so yes, let’s take that walk.”
“All right,” Devin said, then stepped back so Paul could get up. “I love walking on the beach and looking for unusual shells. My nieces always beg me to send them any I find so they can turn them into jewelry.”
“Let me know what qualifies as unusual,” Paul said, bracing his hand on the back of his chair as he got to his feet. “I’ll help you look.”
“Bright colors, mostly. Whole, unbroken shells, sharks teeth, things like that.” Devin resisted the urge to offer Paul his hand. No doubt Paul would find it condescending, even if Devin didn’t mean it that way. Paul was still coming to terms with his loss, and until he’d managed to do it, he needed to know that he could rely on himself, and Devin needed to make sure Paul didn’t think Devin considered him weak or less of a man. “Fortunately, six-year-olds aren’t very picky.”
“Are they twins?” Paul asked. “Or cousins who are close in age?”
“My oldest sister’s twins,” Devin replied, smiling as he thought about his family. The only bad thing about his job was not getting home as often as he would have liked. “I have another niece who is almost thirteen, but her tastes are more sophisticated, and my other sister has two little boys, but they’re still toddlers. If I were to get into the cousins, well… it would be a lot. The Walker clan is large and fertile.”
“How many siblings do you have?” Paul asked. “And is there access to the beach from here or do we need to go back to the street?”
Devin pointed to the end of the patio. “There are steps over there,” he said, then walked beside Paul as they made their way through the tables. “I only have the two sisters, and I’m the baby of the family. But my father is one of eight children, and each of his siblings seemed to take it as a challenge to have as many kids as possible. We all ran in a pack as kids, which was lucky for me. It tended to cut down on racist comments when I had a dozen cousins ready to beat the crap out of anyone who wanted to make an issue about my skin. My siblings and I weren’t the only ones with Native American blood in town, but we were in the minority.”
“Sounds like you have quite a support system,” Paul said, a wistful note in his voice. “I’m an only child.”
“It was great—most of the time,” Devin replied. “Of course I’m sure there were times when all of us wished the others to the cornfield. I know I did, especially when it was my turn to take the fall for some bit of trouble the lot of us had gotten into. I take it you had a lonely time of it growing up?”
Paul kept one hand on the wood rail as he led the way down the concrete steps to the beach. “I had friends, and I was active in sports,” he said, shrugging as he paused at the bottom of the steps to wait for Devin. “I don’t remember feeling lonely, but I did develop a habit of talking to myself. I read a lot too, which probably helped mitigate any loneliness.”
Devin went down the steps and out onto the hard-packed sand, then started slowly toward the water, letting Paul set the pace. He didn’t want to hover, but he paid close attention to Paul’s progress, ready to offer assistance if Paul needed it. “I don’t think I had more than a few minutes alone from the time I was born until I went to culinary school,” he admitted. “That took some adjustment, getting used to it being so quiet all the time.”
Paul took a few slow steps as if testing the sand, but then he began walking at his normal pace as they approached the shoreline. “I don’t mind it. I think being surrounded by a lot of people and noise would be difficult for me. It depends on what a person is accustomed to, I suppose.”
“You’re probably right.” Devin chuckled. “At least living in close, cramped quarters on the ship and having people around all the time doesn’t bother me. I wouldn’t be able to do my job if it did.”
“I admit, I wondered if the living conditions were an issue with the staff when I saw your cabin,” Paul said. “Do people complain about them? The
y seem small for one person, let alone two.”
“They’re a bit tight, but it’s not like we need to have much other than a place to sleep,” Devin replied. They’d reached the waterline, and since the tide was out, it was easy to walk on the damp sand. “We have the run of the ship, after all, and we get free time in port. I guess it’s harder for people who need privacy or who are looking for a place for intimacy, but it’s never bothered me.”
Paul kept his gaze turned downward, scanning the beach as they walked along. “I’ll have to remember to ask around for suggestions about the living space.” He bent and picked up a shell, and he offered the yellow-and-white-hued scallop shell to Devin. “Will this do?”
“It’s great, thanks!” Devin accepted the shell and studied it before slipping it into the pocket of his shorts. He had the strange desire to keep that particular shell for himself, or perhaps have it put on a keychain for Paul. It was a silly notion, perhaps, but he thought it might be a nice thing to do. “You won’t be spending much time on the ships yourself, I take it? I know we get people from corporate from time to time, but will your job mostly be back in Charleston?”
“Yes, this trip is a chance for me to learn about the daily operations on board ship from a firsthand perspective,” Paul said. “But my job will be at headquarters, not on board one of the ships.”
For some reason, having his suspicions confirmed made Devin feel let down. He liked Paul and wanted to help him come out of the shell he’d built around himself. He thought it would be awesome if Paul were to take a position like Kate’s, and then maybe he could request a transfer to Paul’s ship….
And he was getting ahead of himself, he realized. But Paul appealed to him on several different levels. Paul was tall and handsome, obviously intelligent, and that would have been enough to attract Devin’s notice—as indeed it had, that first night Paul had walked into the lounge. But there was more to his attraction than that, and it wasn’t just that Devin thought Paul might need someone. There was something special about Paul that Devin couldn’t quite put his finger on, but unfortunately, the length of the cruise might be all the time he’d have to get to know Paul.
