Page 28 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

She smiled—very nearly welled up a little bit, but she clearly worked to put it away, taking a long breath and pushing a smile out at me. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s service, honestly. I owe you a tip?”

“Smile of yours is tip enough for me.” Ah, shit, that was flirting. Whatever. Ryan took it okay, grinning wider.

“Looks like I’m loaded, then, with how much I can dish out tips. I guess… I’ll head out and let you know later how the Stern’s family is.”

She did seem like she was doing a little better. Stern’s wasn’t the prettiest or the sleekest place—a bit of a dingy local joint—but the staff really did treat their regulars like family. And Ryan needed some familial love right now.

This woman was my charge for the week to come. After all—had to live up to my reputation as protectorate for the queer girls on the island.

The fact that she was cute and charming wasn’t going to get in my way.

Chapter 9

Ryan

The name-drop worked, turned out.

I spent a bit of time at Stern’s, a grungy place where they gave me skeptical looks until I mentioned Brooklyn, at which point the old man waiting on my table lit up and brought me a little shortbread cookie I didn’t ask for alongside my coffee. Settled in, I threw myself headlong into writing my article there at the table under a dingy window and got some solid progress in that petered out when my coffee cup was empty and my surprise cookie was reduced to a few crumbs left in the saucer, and the act of writing cleared my mind, as always. I found myself more focused, sharper, with the bitter sting of disappointment from Shane and from my family dulled to a blunt thing in the back of my mind, still there but far from the first thing in my thoughts.

Guess it didn’t really matter too much what happened with my family. I already knew how they felt about me and my career, so it was more of a blessing than anything else, being able to take the mask off and stop pretending everything was happy and harmless and nice. That resolution took me back out to the car, laptop tucked under my arm, and from there to a different hotel, a nice place but significantly lessluxethan the resort my family had booked.

They’d get pissed off at me for abandoning them altogether to go to a different hotel. That was their prerogative.

The lobby was a small, quiet place with simple furnishings, and a young, wiry woman behind the desk who gave me a reserved smile when she told me that they only had a vacancy open tonight and tomorrow night.

It’d do. Maybe my family would be so mortified by the show that they’d book another room for me at the resort for the rest of the week. Or I’d find another place. Maybe check out the little bungalows like where Allison was staying, and I could join her in mooching off Brooklyn’s pizza oven.

But once I got into my room and unpacked my things, putting in a little more writing and a little update for my subscribers—not going into the details, just letting them know I was continuing to write a little bit while on vacation and that they’d get an article this week, but not to expect my usual pace of long-form writeups—I stared at myself in the mirror, dressed down and ready for a casual dinner, workout clothes laid out on the bed too, and I couldn’t help the thought.

Just one quick little diversion before I saw Brooklyn.

∞∞∞

I knocked against the door, leaning against the frame, kicking one foot up over the other, and I listened as the music turned down on the other side, Brooklyn’s voice carrying from inside the house over the sound of kitchen instruments.

“I wonder who that could be,” she called. I swirled the flowers idly, casting my eyes up towards the bright blue sky, a smile playing on my lips.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” I said back.

“Can I ask for a hint?”

“Someone who loves pineapple on pizza.”

“Okay, that’s going to rule out most people. Hm.” I heard her footsteps inside, and the door shifted—not opening, but the rattle of someone leaning on it from the other side. “Let me ask a few characteristics and you’ll rank how this person does on them.”

“Helping yourself to more hints, I see.”

“Charm?”

“Oh, terribly low.”

“Hmm. That rules out my friend Ryan. Creative skills?”

Were we flirting a little? I… somehow found I didn’t mind terribly. I’d never really flirted with a woman before. Brooklyn was a pretty damn good place to practice. “Creative skills… sometimes she tricks people into thinking she has them.”

“Ah, this is tough. Not at all charming, lacking in creativity… zest for rock-climbing?”

I laughed. “Sky-high, of course. In fact, she even watched some beginner’s bouldering videos while she was at Stern’s to make sure she didn’t completely embarrass herself in front of you.”

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