The Key to Love

by Callie Bardot

  When the doors slid open, there stood Keys.

  “Mia, I…” he began.

  “I’ll take the stairs. Never mind,” Mia said, whirling away.

  “Hey! I want to talk to you!” Keys said.

  Ignoring him, she sped toward the stairwell and threw open the door. Then, she scrambled down the stairs. Out in the lobby, Dante, Kennedy, Zander, Gia, and the others stood chatting. Breathless from her stair scramble, she slowed her gait as she approached them.

  Gia squinted at Mia as she approached. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Mia said. “It’s nothing.”

  Gia’s lips pressed tight, but she didn’t pursue it. “Are you ready for today’s adventure? Power through.” She pumped her fist listlessly. “Brutus and his great ideas.” She scoffed but smiled at him affectionately.

  “Right?” Mia said.

  “You’ll both be fine,” Marcos said, putting his arm around Gia and giving her a squeeze. “I’ll be your guide. I promise to take good care of both of you.”

  “Such a sweetheart.” Gia reached up to stroke his cheek.

  “Thanks, Marcos,” Mia said.

  Out in the parking lot, a red pickup truck pulled up, loaded with paddle-boards.

  “There are our steeds,” Zander said, pointing toward the vehicle. “Everyone ready?”

  Mia glanced to the right to see Keys striding from the elevator, his eyes fixed on her. “Yeah! Let’s go!” She took off at a trot.

  “Mia!” Keys called.

  She continued to ignore him, hurrying toward the truck. Once she exited the hotel, the sun fried her with its heat, like she stood beneath a broiler. She eased back under the awning.

  “Are you just going to ignore me?” Keys said from behind her.

  “Who says I’m ignoring you?” she said, once he stood next to her.

  He scoffed. “It doesn’t take a genius.”

  She eyed him.

  With dark rings peeking out from under his sunglasses and sallow skin, he looked exhausted. Yet, dressed in a short-sleeved pink shirt, open at the collar, and butt-hugging shorts, he still looked as sexy as sin. And his hypnotic eyes…the color of malachite…even through the sunglasses, they seemed to hold secrets and mysteries that stirred a sizzling sensation in her core.

  Zander and the others sorted through the colorful paddle-boards.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to the room last night,” he said.

  “Look,” she said, facing him squarely.

  He lowered his sunglasses and looked over the rim at her with his piercing eyes. “I’m looking.”

  She shivered, despite her best intentions to not let him get to her. “You don’t owe me any apologies. I’m a smart woman and can take care of myself. I’m the one who insisted on keeping it casual and friendly.” She shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. “If you needed to go out and sleep with another woman or women, I’m fine with that,” she lied. “Your life is yours to live.”

  Keys’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his strong neck. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

  She blinked. “You didn’t?”

  “No. I…I…” He shook his head. “I got fucking wasted. Shit-faced. Comatose. But it didn’t…” Again, he shook his head. “It didn’t help.”

  “What did you need help about?” she asked. A glacier of frozen emotion thawed inside her chest.

  His lips rolled between his teeth, and he simply stared at her, shaking his head.

  She glanced at the group.

  Heat glared at her, with a deep frown on his face.

  What’s your problem? She scowled at him before turning back to Keys. Her lips parted to ask him again for clarification on what he needed help with, but Zander interrupted.

  “Hey, you two. You get the last boards,” Zander called. “Let’s get a move on.”

  “I guess we’d better get our boards,” Keys said. “How I love being told what to do,” he said with a scowl. He turned and strode toward the truck where he hefted both remaining paddle-boards out of the back of the truck. “I’ll carry yours.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her heart lighter than it had been in the last twelve hours. Keys didn’t sleep with anyone. And, I wonder what he needed help with? Could it have been his feelings for me? A feeling of exhilaration replaced the gloom and doom she’d held onto.

  Paddle-boarding proved anti-climactic once she got past the waves. “This is kind of boring,” she said to Keys, after paddling about for thirty minutes. “I mean, all I’m doing is standing here with an oar, paddling as if I’m on a barge on the Mississippi.”

  “I agree,” Keys said. “I liked the adrenaline rush of yesterday, to be honest. That was a blast. I can’t remember having that much fun with a…” He gave her a side-eye. “I haven’t had much fun in a while.”

  “Right?” Mia said. Was he going to say he hasn’t had that much fun with a woman? Her heart did a leap and a skip. She looked over at him and smiled.

  He returned the smile. Keys had a beautiful smile. It did all sorts of crazy things to her insides when he smiled at her.

  When they’d all finished paddle-boarding, and body surfed to the shore, one of the Hidden Resorts staff members came to greet them. “Señors y señoritas,” he said, smiling broadly. “Let us take the boards back to the truck. When would you like to head to Cancun?”

  Dante turned to look at the group. “What do you think? An hour?”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Gia said.

  “Sure,” chimed in Effie.

  “I’m down,” Kennedy said.

  Keys gazed down at Mia. “What about you? I want to party with you, sweetness.”

  “An hour’s fine,” she said, happy to be included in his plans.

  “Then, we’ll be ready in an hour,” Dante said to the staff guy, handing his red and orange paddle-board to a shorts-clad staff member.

  “Que Bueno. Your van will be waiting.”

  When they arrived in Cancun, it seemed the entire town had turned out for the celebration. People spilled out of their colorful homes into the streets. Red and green paper mache streamers and banners had been strung in the town square. Street vendors sold fruit ices, ceviche, fish and shrimp tacos, fried insects, and other food items. Dancers in colorful costumes wove their way through the crowd to the tune of a small band accompanying them. The whole town bubbled with festivities.

  Their entire group became swallowed in a sea of people until Mia lost sight of everyone. She turned from side to side, looking around wildly.

  Keys emerged from the crowd and took her hand. “Don’t want to lose you in this sea of bodies, short stuff,” he said with a grin. “It’s like a Marked Love concert.” He had a lightness to him like he thrived on the energy of the crowd.

  Mia, on the other hand, hated crowds. But something about the warmth of his hand against her hand gave her a sense of safety.

  “Aw, dang,” Keys said, his face lighting up.

  “What?” Mia said, craning her neck to see what he referred to.

  “Here.” He placed his hands on his knees and bent down. “Climb on.”

  She hesitated for a second, then hopped onto his back. Keys’ warm back against her front brought an instant sizzle to her insides.

  He stood, hooking his arms around her legs, easily supporting her weight. “Check out the dancers.”

  Mia directed her attention to a small stage in the center of a crowd as Keys pushed his way through the throng of people.

  Dancers in skimpy bikinis with red, yellow and green feathered headdresses the size of a small car, moved in elaborate patterns to the beats of six drummers. The drummers were all male, clad in beaded loincloths and headdresses of long, flowing pheasant feathers. Gold bands clung to their powerful legs. Their feet were bare.

  The air felt electric with energy as the dancers twirled and kicked.

  Keys made his way to the front of the stage, where he let Mia slide from his hips. “Cool, huh?” he said, his face ali
ve with excitement. “I’d love to create some keyboard riffs to that kind of drumming.”

  “That would be awesome!” Mia said, taking Keys’ hand with hers. Their fingers twined like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  After that set, a more traditional group of Mexican dancers took the stage. The women wore long flowing skirts in vibrant red, with red, green, and yellow ribbons sewn near the hem. Their glossy hair had been pulled into buns festooned with flowers. Their male partners wore black velvet and gold sombreros, black vests, and pants with gold piping down the side.

  Overhead, red and gold streaks spread across the sky, heralding the approaching evening. Everywhere Mia’s gaze landed, from the dancers to the crowds to the buildings and the sky, bright colors greeted her eyes.

  Keys gazed down at her. “You hungry?”

  “A little, yes,” Mia said. “What about you?”

  “Famished. Let’s see about finding some food that isn’t loaded with intestinal bacteria. I don’t want to spend the night in the bathroom nursing a case of Montezuma’s revenge. Been there. Done that.”

  “I’ve never had it. When I traveled with my parents, my dad made sure of that,” Mia said, allowing Keys to lead her away from the stage.

  Keys nodded. “When I was a teen, I used to head down to Mexico with my friends. I learned the hard way that street food might look enticing, but it’s better to eat in a restaurant. Nasty little critters want to eat out the insides of us gringos and gringas.” He tugged her onto a sidewalk jammed with revelers. “Let’s duck in here,” he said, pointing to a small restaurant called Mezcal y Mariscos.

  Inside, the small, dimly lit restaurant, posters of Mexican beer, and Mezcal alongside huge photos of lemons and limes adorned the bright yellow walls. Yellow lights hung from the orange ceiling. Sturdy carved wooden chairs with dark brown leather seats were placed around massive wooden tables. A few cozy booths lined the walls. Several customers were already seated, some dining, some waiting for their meals to arrive.

  The scent of fresh tortillas, chiles, beans, and other foods teased Mia’s stomach into a growl.

  “Señor y señorita,” said a pretty hostess wearing a white shirt and a red calf-length skirt. “Is it just the two of you?”

  “Yes,” Keys said, rubbing his thumb across Mia’s hand.

  “Right this way.” She led them through the tables and seated them at a booth in the back of the room. After handing them menus, she said, “Your waiter, Francisco, will be right over.”

  “Thank you,” said Keys.

  Keys sat across from Mia. He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. “Are you having fun?”

  “Yes! Are you?” she said. The energy between them felt thick and charged.

  “I am,” he said. His intense gaze sliced through her. “I’m sorry I was a dick last night.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. Nothing’s written in stone between us. You can do what you like,” she said. “We both said this would be for fun, not for the future.” So why do I want more?

  “Right,” Keys said, breaking eye contact to stare at their hands. “Just friends, isn’t that right?” He swallowed hard.

  “Right,” she said, as lightly as she could.

  Their waiter interrupted them, striding over to stand before their table. “Buenas Noches, señor y señorita. Can I start you with something to drink? We have an excellent wine list.”

  “What do you recommend? Since the name of the place includes the word ‘Mariscos’ I assume we’ll be ordering seafood.”

  “Yes, yes,” Francisco said. “We make the best seafood in the Quintana Roo. Might I suggest a starter of zucchini squash soup with scallops and ricotta ravioli, paired with a Chardonnay? Then, for your entree, I suggest roasted lobster with risotto and asparagus. I recommend a Pinot Noir to accompany that dish. Then, we shall see about dessert.”

  Keys said, “Mia? What do you think?”

  “It sounds fantastic. I love the recommendations.” She squeezed Keys’ hands before tugging her fingers from his.

  “Okay, then. Let’s do it,” Keys said to Francisco.

  Francisco nodded at them and strode away.

  “So, friend…” Keys said. He leaned back in his seat.

  “What, friend?” she said with a smile.

  “Doesn’t this feel like a date?” His lips parted as he studied her.

  “Friends eat dinner all the time,” she said breezily.

  “Do friends hold hands?”

  “Sure,” she said with a wave of her hand. “If they’re close friends, why not?”

  “How many guy friends do you hold hands with?” he said with an arched eyebrow.

  Mia’s face grew hot. “Not many.” None.

  “I see.” Keys turned to look at the waiter who strode in their direction, bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  Francisco uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into one of the wine glasses. “Señor?” He stood back.

  Keys did the whole swirl, sniff, and sip thing Mia’s parents had drilled into her as a young adult.

  They wanted her to be cultured and be able to move through any social circle she chose.

  “This is fine,” Keys said.

  Francisco nodded and proceeded to pour wine for both of them. He set the bottle between them and dashed away.

  One of Keys’ eyebrows lifted as he raised his glass to hers. “To friendship,” he said, squinting one eye.

  “To friendship,” she said. Swirls of heat filled her core. Unable to hold his gaze, she looked away, clinked her glass against Keys’ and took a sip of the wine. “Yum, this is good.”

  “It is,” Keys said.

  “So,” she said. “How many female friends do you hold hands with?”

  “Zilch. If I’m touching a woman, I want more than a friendship.” His gaze seemed to penetrate her, sending a swirl of shooting stars up her spine.

  “I see,” she said, taking another swallow of wine. “Are you saying you want more than a friendship with me?”

  A secretive smile curved his lips. “What do you think?”

  She started to answer, but Francisco appeared, bearing dishes and a long wooden pepper mill under his arm.

  He set the bowls and plates before Keys and Mia and said, “Freshly ground pepper?” He removed the mill from his arm.

  “Please,” Keys said at the same time as her.

  Francisco ground pepper over both dishes and said, “Can I get you anything else at this time?”

  “No, thank you,” said Keys. As Francisco departed, Keys said, “Dig in.”

  Mia picked up her fork and eyed the two scallops sitting in a sea of butter. Her fork sliced through one of the scallops with ease. She lifted it to her lips and took a bite. “Mmm, this is to die for.”

  Keys slid a spoon into his soup and lifted it to his lips. After the soup disappeared into his mouth, he said, “This is pretty good, too. But I’m easy to please.”

  “Where did you learn to taste wine? You did the whole swirl and sniff thing like a pro,” Mia said, taking another bite of the scallop.

  “My bitch ex,” Keys said. A look dark enough to obliterate the sun flashed across his face.

  “Oh,” she said, not wanting to spoil the mood. “New topic. What’s your favorite food?”

  Without thinking about it, he said, “The kind of food that’s out there in those street vendor carts…but without the bacteria that will make me sick as a dog. I’m not a fancy food kind of guy. I mean…what we’re eating is tasty and all. But give me a plate of boneless short-bib Malaysian stew from Mama’s on Water Street, or a slice of pizza from Sammy’s or a big fat burger from Tommy’s Thick and Tasty and I’m a happy man.” He stabbed a whole scallop and popped it in his mouth.

  “Tommy’s Thick and Tasty,” she said with a giggle. “There’s a guy’s idea of a name if ever I heard of one.”

  “I know, right?” Keys said, after swallowing his seafood. H
e forked a ravioli. “What about you? What kind of food turns you on?” he said, with a wicked glint in his eye.

  “Oh, I’ll eat anything as long as it’s good food. I’m not into processed foods, but I’ll eat a burger or a hot dog if there’s nothing else, and I’m famished. A hot dog and a beer at the ballpark is a treat unto itself,” she said, scooping a spoonful of the zucchini soup. The memory of the last time she went to the ballpark to watch a game with Darion darkened her mood. They’d encountered some friends of his at the game. Darion had proceeded to berate Mia in front of them until she’d fled to the bathroom to cry.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” Keys said. “If you like a good hot dog, then you’ve got to try a Dirty Dog. My buddy Malik owns the cart. His old man makes the dogs himself. He owns a butcher shop. I’ll have to take you on a street food tour when we get back to the states.” A small frown creased his forehead as he spoke. “Anyway…”

  “Anyway…” She eyed his bruised expression. Clearly, we’ve both stumbled into our own memory land-mines.

  After that, she stuck to safer topics.

  Two bottles of wine, a delicious dinner, some dancing in the street to a live band, and a few shots of Mezcal later, Keys guided her toward the sea. Most of the alcohol had been consumed by him. He seemed dead set on wiping out his brain cells.

  “Where to now?” Keys said, draping an arm around her.

  She shrugged. “Let’s walk along the beach and see where it takes us. When is the van supposed to pick us up?’

  “Oh, who knows?” Keys said, striding along the shore. “And who cares? I was hoping you’d say you wanted to get down and dirty with me.”

  She snorted. “No. Not here.”

  “I’ll rent a room. Money is no concern.” He patted his pants pocket where his wallet bulged.

  “We’ve got a room,” she said. “I want to return to said room. So, where do you think the pick-up spot is?” She looked up at him.

  “You tell me,” he said, adding a wink.

  She chuckled. “We’re supposed to know. I don’t want to sleep in the sand tonight. Isn’t it supposed to be picking us up at 1 a.m. in the same place they dropped us off?”