Page 5 of Hot Buttered Rum

“Nope, that’s Dexter. Polly is our resident squirrel. She lives in the big oak tree in the backyard. I’m watching Dexter for a friend. And, as you can see, he’s quite anxious for his owner to return.”

The bird had turned its beady eyes back to the window. Its skinny bird legs nearly tangled together as it paced back and forth along the edge.

“How sweet that he’s waiting like a loyal friend.”

Coco pulled a plate out from beneath the counter and placed a cupcake in the center of it. “Tell me what you think.”

All the trepidation and confusion I’d felt as my car rolled up to the inn was gone. I picked up the cupcake and peeled down the wrapper. I ran my tongue across the rich fudgy frosting. It was laced with just enough rum to tickle my nose.

Coco pointed at me. “I thought you might be a frosting first kind of girl.” I was focused on the cupcake, but I was certain her finger had been somewhat gnarled and thickened at the knuckle. But on second glance, she had the smooth, soft hands of a young girl.

I took a bite. The cake was light as air and full of all the buttery rum goodness I’d expected. “Oh my gosh, these are nothing short of magical.” I looked around. “Like this place. How on earth am I here, at the Silk Stocking Inn and nibbling on a cupcake that seems to have found taste buds I didn’t even know I had?”

“You won a free weekend, remember?” She said it so plainly and confidently, I wasn’t even sure how to respond. In fact, a thousand questions circled in my brain, but I couldn’t land on just one to ask.

I was about to utter something about a wrong turn when the parrot began a chorus of squawks intermingled with a few words I couldn’t quite discern at first. A short feather escaped its bright green plumage as it stretched its wings to keep balance during its enthusiastic dance. “Aye matey,” the bird screeched sharply.

“Ah, that must be Turner.” Coco rounded the counter and headed toward the door. “I hope he’s brought my lobsters.”

The door opened. A cool ocean breeze caused my hair to flutter in every direction. I still clutched the cupcake in one hand as I reached up and smoothed my hair back with the other.

Dexter let out an ear-piercing whistle and lifted off the window sill. The bird flapped its wings, and after a clamor of shrieks and squawks, it managed to land rather gracefully on the shoulder of the man who had walked inside.

With the bright green air show over, I looked at the man for the first time.

A breath stuck in my throat. My fingers pushed into the cupcake I was holding. The remainder of the frosting dislodged and fell to the floor.

Coco piped up instantly. “Don’t worry about that. I still have to mop the floors tonight. Come on over and meet Turner. He’s the local fisherman and part-time treasure hunter.”

I wiped my hands off on a napkin and walked over to greet him. He was well over six feet tall, with wavy black hair, piercing blue eyes and a gunmetal gray plug in each ear. His bright white smile nearly mirrored the image I had in my head of the roguish pirate captain in my story.

I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Ginger. And I have absolutely no idea how I got here. Wrong turn, apparently, but the cupcakes were worth the detour. Sorry, I’m rambling.” Working in automotive engineering, I’d taught myself to be especially confident around men, but this man had tossed me off my game.

I could see a dimple beneath the black beard stubble. “Those unexpected wrong turns, and yeah, I’ve got to agree about the cupcakes.” He tilted his head slightly. “Ginger? Shouldn’t you have red hair?”

I regained some of my composure. “Shouldn’t your parrot be named Polly?”

As if it knew we were talking about it, the bird bobbed its head and muttered, “pretty girl”.

Turner shot a sideways glance at his pet. “Damn right she is, Dexter.”

My face warmed as Turner gazed at me with the same look I’d given the buttered rum cupcake minutes ago.

“Did you bring me the lobsters?” Coco asked. “I’ve promised Ginger lobster pot pie, and without them, they’d just be pot pies.”

Turner pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I left them on the porch. And since you’re making pot pie with my catch, does that mean—”

“Yes, you’re invited too. Tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, I can’t stay.” I’d finally snapped out of the semi-trance the incredibly handsome fisherman had left me in. “I just drove up here to—”

“Nonsense. You must stay. You won a free vacation.” Coco placed her hand on my arm as I looked into her emerald eyes. It almost seemed as if she could read everything about me in my face. It was as if she knew the one thing in my life that had been missing was a passionate and true love that could rival the stories I had tucked deep on my hard drive.

“You won’t regret it,” she said softly.

“I—uh—well, I don’t have any plans.” My face warmed again as I realized how pitiful that sounded. “I mean my plans were cancelled at the last minute.” Of course, I felt no need to go into what those plans were because that would have sounded even worse.

“Well, I’m glad you’re sticking around. Dexter and I are heading out to get below deck before those rain clouds pop.” Turner nodded politely and walked out.

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