Page 57 of Winter in Paradise
“Are you sure you can’t go to dinner tonight?” he asks.
“Positive,” she says.
“Because you have another date,” Baker says. “Just tell me one thing, is he bigger than me?”
Ayers’s laugh is musical, like a bell. He loves her laugh. He loves her smooth tan arms. He loves her jangling silver bracelets. There are five, all variations of the St. John hook, including one she had custom-made with an “8” and a hook because every February she runs a race called “8 Tuff Miles”—the length of the satanically hilly Centerline Road from Cruz Bay to Coral Bay. The race ends at Skinny Legs, hence the name of the bar. (Things here are finally starting to click for Baker.) He loves her blond curls, her sense of adventure, her taste in music, and her enthusiasm about the natural world.
“I have another commitment,” she says. “And I’m not telling you what it is, but you don’t have to feel threatened.”
“I do feel threatened,” Baker admits. “I don’t want to share you.”
“Hey now,” she says. “Aren’t things moving a little fast?”
“Sorry,” Baker says. “I just had a really good time today. I enjoy being with you.”
“I had a good time, too,” Ayers says. “But you’re a tourist, so we can’t get too serious. Let’s just have fun while you’re here, okay? Let’s not attach too many feelings to this.”
Baker takes this like a poison dart to the throat. No feelings? He is nothing but feelings.
“Let’s not not attach feelings,” he says. “Besides, I don’t know when I’m leaving. I might be here for a while yet.”
“I guess I don’t understand that,” Ayers says. “Do you not have a return ticket?”
“It’s open-ended,” he says.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why did you get an open-ended ticket? I mean, I realize you don’t have a traditional job, but you do have a child, right, and a life in… Austin?”
“Houston,” he says.
“We had a wonderful day,” Ayers says. “And it was exactly what I needed. But we barely know each other. And I also don’t understand why you don’t want me to come to your villa. It’s like you’re hiding something.”
“You’re hiding something,” Baker says. “You won’t tell me what you’re doing tonight.”
Ayers takes an audible breath. “My ex-boyfriend, Mick? He cheated on me. He told me he was working late “training” Brigid, and I went down to the Beach Bar at two in the morning and found them together. Very together. So I’m sorry, but I can’t handle a man who isn’t absolutely forthcoming and transparent. If you have secrets, that’s fine, that’s great, good for you, but I’m not interested.” She grins at him. “I’m dead serious. I will never let myself get hurt like that again.”
“I would never,” Baker says. “Will never.” He needs to keep himself in her present, in her future, but her words make him realize that he needs to tell her about his father. It will take just one sentence: My father was Russell Steele. Baker worries she will freak out, maybe even leave him on the side of the road and drive off. The time to have told her was right at the beginning, at the memorial service, when they were sitting on the branch. But the situation had been so raw then; they had been at Rosie’s funeral lunch. He had been right to keep quiet. He could have told her last night on the beach. That was a missed opportunity. He doesn’t want to tell her now because she hasn’t quite fallen for him yet. He’ll take her to Caneel Bay, he decides, he’ll consummate the relationship properly, he’ll make her fall in love with him, and then he’ll tell her. And she’ll have no choice but to process and accept the news. It might not even matter.
All right, he’s not naive, it will matter. But he still thinks it’s best to wait.
“I want to take you to Caneel Bay,” he says. “Take you to dinner, get a room, spend the night. Would you do that with me? When’s the next night you’re free?”
“Caneel?” she says. She drops the tough-girl attitude and lights up. Baker has stumbled across the magic words, apparently. “I’ve never stayed there, though I’ve always wanted to. And ZoZo’s, the restaurant, the osso buco is… wow, are you sure that’s what you want to do? It’s not exactly cheap.”
“Who cares?” Baker says. “It’s a splurge. You’re worth it. I would love to stay a night away from my mother and brother.”
“I would love a night with reliable air-conditioning,” Ayers says. “Can we turn it all the way up?”
“All the way up,” Baker says. “What night are you free?”
“Tomorrow night,” Ayers says. “I work on Treasure Island tomorrow, I’ll be back around four.”
“I’ll make a reservation,” Baker says. “And meet you there around five.”
“I probably shouldn’t go on such an extravagant date with a tourist,” Ayers says. “But it’s too tempting to resist. And I don’t have to be at La Tapa on Friday until four, so maybe we can sleep in, get a late checkout?”
