by Ari McKay
“Are you happy with that?” he asked casually. “For some reason, you strike me as the type who was born to the sea.”
Paul glanced at Devin, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “I used to spend a lot of time at the beach,” he said. “I’ve never wanted to live on a boat, though. My job trajectory is taking the path I’ve wanted it to for years. I’m not unhappy.”
Devin returned Paul’s gaze, hesitating before deciding he had nothing to lose. “Not being unhappy isn’t the same thing as being happy,” he said quietly.
Paul’s mouth quirked up in a wry, one-sided smile. “You and my therapist would get along great,” he said. “My job isn’t the issue. I really am doing what I want to do until I retire.”
“Sounds like you have a wise therapist,” Devin replied, flashing Paul a teasing smile. Then he grew serious again. “Okay, so you like your job, but work isn’t the be-all and end-all of life. So my statement stands. You deserve to be happy, Paul. You’re smart and sexy and young, so you should be enjoying life.”
Paul stopped walking and turned his attention to the ocean, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared out at the distant horizon. “I know I shouldn’t focus my entire life around work,” he said at last, his voice so soft that Devin had to strain to hear him over the lulling rhythm of the surf. “Maybe one day, I’ll feel like doing more than going to work early and staying late. But right now, it’s easier.” He paused, then admitted, “And safer.”
“At the risk of sounding like my mother, we Osage have a saying,” Devin said. “‘If the eyes had no tears, then the heart would have no rainbows.’ I always took that to mean that you can never find joy if you never risk hurt. Safety… well, I think for the most part, it’s an illusion. Or maybe just another word for loneliness.”
“Intellectually, I know all that,” Paul said, his expression turning pensive. “But I’m having a difficult time dealing with fear. After my ex broke up with me, my first therapist pushed me to try dating. It didn’t go well, and I changed therapists.”
Devin’s suspicions about Paul’s ex were confirmed by Paul’s words. Not only that, a bad dating experience would have reinforced any negative things Paul’s ex had said. Devin felt an unusual urge to kick the asses of the men who had managed to heap more injury on top of the accident that had cost Paul his leg. If Paul had been part of the Walker clan, anyone who’d tried it would have found themselves in far more hurt than they’d ever want to face.
“Fear is hard,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, and it was cruel for anyone to add to what you were dealing with by hurting you. But they’re the ones who are truly crippled, Paul, don’t you see that? You might be missing a limb, but they’re missing a part of their souls. You could never be diminished, not in my eyes or the eyes of anyone who can truly see.”
Paul blinked rapidly and looked away, and when he faced Devin again, his answering smile was small and wobbly. “Thanks for saying that.”
“It doesn’t take many words to speak the truth,” Devin said softly. He rested his hand on Paul’s arm and gave it a small squeeze. “Don’t give those jerks power over your life by letting their pettiness limit your world.”
“I’ll try.” Paul drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Shall we look for some more shells?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Devin replied. He wished he could keep his hand on Paul’s arm—not for support, but just because he wanted to—but Paul obviously needed some space. So he gave Paul’s arm one last squeeze, then stooped down and picked up a piece of smooth, pale green sea glass. It was narrower at one end than the other, and it reminded Devin of a teardrop.
He thought for a moment, then held out the glass to Paul. “Here, I think you should keep this.”
Paul accepted the glass with a puzzled frown. “Okay…. Why?”
“So it can be a reminder,” Devin replied. “To some people, that’s simply a piece of broken glass, rejected and worthless. But to others, it’s a gift of the sea, polished by the sands, a treasure to be sought after and cherished, a thing of unique beauty. Whenever you feel like you’re less than perfect in the eyes of some people, look at that, and remember that to many more others, you are a gem.”
Paul slid the smooth piece of glass between his fingers, caressing it slowly. “I’ll try to remember that.” He slid the piece of glass into his pocket and offered Devin a small but genuine smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” If Devin had wanted any payment for the glass, Paul’s smile was more than enough. He returned it in kind, hoping he could earn more of those smiles, which warmed him even more than the tropical sun.
Chapter Five
PAUL stood in front of the dresser in his cabin and reached for his watch, but he paused when he noticed the piece of sea glass Devin had given him, and he picked up that instead. He’d enjoyed his time ashore more than he’d expected to, and he still couldn’t quite believe he’d let Devin lure him onto the beach. But Devin had been right. Now when Paul thought about the beach, he could focus on memories of Miss Jo’s conch fritters and collecting pretty shells for six-year-old twins instead of Jack.
He sighed quietly as he rubbed the glass between his fingers, thinking about what Devin had said yesterday. He knew fear was a stumbling block he needed to get out of the way; he’d had that conversation multiple times with his therapist. But he wasn’t ready to face another rejection. Losing Jack had been hard enough. They’d shared a love of all kinds of physical activities—surfing, boating, hiking, rock climbing, CrossFit. Jack had seemed convinced they would have to give all that up, and he’d refused to stick around long enough to let Paul prove otherwise. Since then, Paul had avoided those activities, telling himself it was a painful reminder, but maybe he was letting fear turn Jack’s words into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
On impulse, he slid the piece of sea glass into the pocket of his khakis. Then he put on his watch, checked his salmon-colored polo shirt for wrinkles, and headed out of the cabin. He spent several hours touring the ship on his own and talking to both employees and passengers about their experiences with the cruise line, and he took mental notes for his report.
Around midafternoon, he returned to his cabin and took a nap so he’d be alert for the evening’s festivities. Devin was going to show him what went on behind the scenes to prepare for the midnight buffet, and he wanted to stay up for the buffet itself, not only to experience the event firsthand but also because Devin had promised the coconut shrimp and bacon-wrapped scallops would be worth waiting up for.
By the time he took a quick shower and changed into a suit, it was time for him to meet Devin in the Seafarer’s Lounge. They’d agreed to meet there, and Paul could have a drink until Devin’s shift ended. When he arrived at the lounge, there were still two or three seats at the bar available, and he claimed one and waited for Devin to notice his arrival.
It was only a few moments before Devin turned in his direction, and the social smile that had been curving Devin’s lips changed, becoming warmer and somehow intimate. Devin placed a glass of wine in front of his waiting customer, then excused himself and walked to Paul’s end of the bar.
“Hello,” he said, leaning against the bar. “You look great.”
Devin’s warm regard brought an involuntary smile to Paul’s lips. He knew he shouldn’t read anything into it, but he found himself enjoying being the focus of an attractive man’s attention again.
“Thanks. I thought I’d step it up a notch in honor of the midnight buffet and the seafood delights that await.”
“If the shrimp and scallops don’t appreciate your appearance, at least I do,” Devin replied with a teasing wink. “What would you like to drink to start the evening off? I have about ten more minutes, then I’m off duty.”
Paul gave Devin a speculative look. “Make me whatever you think is your signature drink. The one you make better than anyone else.”
“Oh, a challenge!” Devin grew thoughtful, t
hen nodded as if he’d made a decision. He picked up a blender jar and added ice, followed by dollops from several different bottles. Then he affixed the jar on the blender base and set it to grind the ingredients while he retrieved a tall glass. He poured the contents of the blender into the glass, then topped it with a generous splash of dark rum and something from a smaller bottle. After adding an orange slice for garnish, he finished with a straw, then placed the glass in front of Paul.
“Here you have a Rum Stumbler. It’s like a Rum Runner, but with a bit more of a kick.”
The drink resembled an orange slushy, but when he lifted the glass, Paul caught a whiff of alcohol that assured him this was definitely for adults. He took a sip, tasting oranges followed by the bite of rum.
“There’s something sweet underneath the fruit flavors,” he said, frowning as he tried to figure out what it was. “It tastes like an alcoholic Creamsicle.”
Devin put his finger to his lips and leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You have a good palate. I add a dash of bourbon vanilla. It’s my own special creation.”
Paul drew an X over his heart. “I won’t tell a soul, but I think I’ll want at least one of these every day for the rest of the cruise,” he said.
Devin’s smile was wide and delighted. “I can make that happen. Your wish, et cetera, et cetera.” Someone at the other end of the bar gestured to get Devin’s attention, and he sighed softly even as he nodded to the customer. “Duty calls. Enjoy your drink, Paul, and I’ll get ready to walk the second my shift ends.”
Paul twisted the seat of the bar stool so he could people-watch while he sipped his drink and waited for Devin to finish his shift. But his gaze kept straying back to Devin, and he couldn’t help but admire the lean lines of Devin’s tall body and how graceful Devin’s slender fingers were as he mixed, poured, and served drinks. Finally he forced himself to look away and pay attention to the passengers instead. He was here on business, after all, and observing was part of his job.
At last Devin’s replacement—a younger man named Julio whom Paul had met briefly—came on duty, and Devin waved goodbye to the people at the bar before walking over to Paul. “All done,” he said. “I’m all yours now.”
Don’t I wish. Paul didn’t know where the stray thought had come from, but he squashed it quickly and offered a lopsided smile. “Great,” he said as he finished his drink and left the empty glass on the bar. “I’m ready to see the wonders of the buffet prep.”
Devin grabbed a backpack from behind the bar, then came around the side to join Paul. “Let’s head to the aft dining room. You can get a look at the housekeeping staff setting up the decorations and the tables, and then we’ll go to the kitchen. How does that sound?”
“That sounds fine to me,” Paul said, gesturing for Devin to lead the way. “I’m in your hands tonight.”
Devin’s expression grew serious. “You’re safe with me, Paul. I promise.” With that, he headed for the exit.
Devin took Paul to the staff elevator, used a key to summon it, and then they rode down to the lowest level of the ship. The walkways here were kept clear for carts and people in a hurry, and they didn’t have to maneuver their way around other passengers. As they walked, Devin pointed out the various facilities, including a medical bay for both crew and passengers, the laundry facilities, ship’s stores, and the large cargo holds where the crew were allowed to put things like bicycles and sports equipment that might not fit in their rooms.
“The purser has to keep track of everything, and I do mean everything, that goes inside. Part of it is for safety, of course, but sometimes odd requests come from passengers, and the crew is often happy to loan things out for special occasions. We once had a wedding on board, and the groom was a major league baseball player. He wanted to play catch with his bride, but he didn’t remember to bring gloves or a baseball. But the crew scrounged up the equipment, and Triton Cruises had another satisfied passenger.”
“That’s great,” Paul said, pleased to hear the crew was willing to go above and beyond to make the passengers happy. “That’s the kind of service we want to provide for our guests. I think it sets us apart from the competition.”
“It definitely does,” Devin agreed. “I think it also accounts for why there are so many repeat cruisers and why the tips we make are much higher than on most other ships. Which is also why competition to join a Triton ship is high and turnover is low. At least half the crew on the ship has been with the line for over ten years, and there’s one steward, hired by the original Mercer before he retired, who worked on the first ship of the line.”
Paul was taken aback by that revelation. His father hadn’t mentioned anything about such a long-term employee being on the ship, but maybe he wasn’t aware of it. “I’d love to meet him.”
“I bet he’d like that,” Devin said. “He’s very proud of being one of the longest-serving employees on any ship, not just with Triton. But first… here’s the aft elevator, which goes up to the service area between the kitchens and the dining room.”
They weren’t the only people waiting for the elevator, and Devin seemed to know most of the staff, who were loaded down with boxes and bags they were ferrying up to the kitchens. There was a lot of good-natured banter, and the crew included Paul, asking how he was enjoying learning the operations of the ship. Paul didn’t have to feign enthusiasm when he said he was enjoying it a great deal. He was fascinated by how much teamwork was involved in running the ship and how the crew seemed to have their routines down so well they performed together like a well-oiled machine. He was also enjoying being on board the ship itself, and he’d already made a promise to himself that this wouldn’t be the last cruise he took.
When the elevator opened, Devin waited for the crew with burdens to get off, then led Paul into the dining room. The late dinner service was smaller than the main seating, and as diners cleared out from a section, burly crewmen removed the tables, and then the housekeeping crew descended on it with brooms and dustpans and cleaning cloths, wiping down every surface until it sparkled. The big round dining tables were rolled away, and smaller tables took their place, creating a more intimate arrangement. Crisp tablecloths in deep blue were deployed, and vases of fresh flowers—roses and orchids—were placed on each table.
“The buffet is one of the highlights of the cruise,” Devin told him. They were standing out of the way against one of the walls, and Devin pointed out the long tables being assembled along the aft windows. “Everything will be put on display, and people will be allowed to take photos before the buffet is opened. Did you see the ice-carving demonstration out on deck earlier? Those will be used as decorations on the buffet, and there will be a chocolate fountain and a champagne fountain. And this is only the first time on the cruise we’re doing this. There’s another one on next-to-last night of the cruise.”
“The ice-carving demonstration was amazing,” Paul said, although he’d been chagrined to realize one of the artists was creating a replica of the statue of Triton that was based on him. “Some of them seemed delicate, though. How do they transport the sculptures around the ship safely?”
“They’re taken down the elevator to a big walk-in freezer and stored until just before the buffet opens. They also use the freezer to make the big blocks for carving. I know there’s a trick to it, and they’re actually stronger than they look.” Devin chuckled. “I haven’t had time to learn the skill myself, but it’s on my bucket list. It would be awesome for when I open my own restaurant, though considering Texas, I’ll probably have to carve ice steers and footballs.”
“Don’t forget cowboy hats and boots,” Paul said, teasing Devin a little.
Devin smacked his forehead with one hand. “How could I have forgotten those? My cousins will shame me next time I’m home if they find out. Oh, look, they’re putting up the dance floor. I envy the merchant marine crew. The officers get to dance with the guests.”
“No shipboard romances for th
e rest of you?” Paul knew fraternizing with the guests was frowned on, but he also knew human nature, and he doubted the guidelines were enough to keep the employees and passengers from engaging in private mingling if they really wanted to.
“It happens,” Devin admitted. “Though not as often as you might think. I’ve had plenty of passes made at me. I think it’s a hazard of the job, being around people and alcohol. But I’ve never been tempted, and not just because most of the people issuing the invitations are women.”
“What would tempt you?” Paul asked, surprising himself with the bold question. Devin’s personal life was none of his business. The Rum Stumbler had to be to blame.
Devin didn’t seem to mind, and he looked at Paul directly. “Someone special,” he said. “Someone intelligent and kind and thoughtful. It would help if he was tall and sexy and liked to dance.”
Paul wasn’t conceited enough to think he met all those criteria, but he met a couple—but it didn’t matter because he had no business wondering if Devin could ever be tempted by him. Even if it weren’t a terrible idea because of the employer-employee aspect and because he was lying by omission, he wasn’t ready to think about getting involved with someone.
Although it was getting harder to remember that when Devin was around.
“Those sound like good criteria,” he said, unable to keep a husky note out of his voice as he gazed into Devin’s dark eyes.
“I like to think so,” Devin replied. “What about you, Paul?”
“As long as he doesn’t run away as soon as he finds out about my leg, he’ll be an improvement on the last one,” Paul said, smiling wryly. It was the first time he’d been able to joke about Jack, and he felt some of the cracks in his heart knitting together at last.
