Page 66 of Five
A barrage of noise like gun fire erupts suddenly from the general direction of the tree line, cutting Remi’s explanation off. I jump, jerking hard at Remi’s arm. He pulls me into his side as a flare-like object shoots from the nearby trees in a flash of light and explodes over our heads. More follow, the accompanying booms of sound explosive and frightening.
“Oh, my God!” I yell. “What on earth is that!”
Why isn’t Remi doing anything?He’s barely reacting. In fact, a little smirk dances at the corners of his lips. I glare at him, even as I hang on to his arm for dear life.
His voice is calm as he explains. “Don’t worry; we’re not under attack. Jesse and Cope have this ongoing game with each other where one will sneak up on the other and shoot a roman candle at the other. By the sound of it, war has broken out.”
My heart subsides. I can breathe again. I manage a shaky laugh. “How…”
“Childish?” He laughs. “They’re a bunch of overgrown kids.”
“Ha. Well, I’m sure it’s fun. Add some paintball, and it’s a party. I’ll have to let them know they just aged me ten years. How on earth do you stay as calm and…serene… as you appear to be, with all that racket? And aren’t Roman candles fireworks? Aren’t you guys worried about them being a fire hazard?”
He shrugs. “You get used to it, and a skirmish doesn’t usually last long. And spring is the safest time for them to battle it out; the islands get enough rain to keep the trees and ground from drying out. They aren’t allowed to play their game from December to April, because those months are the dry season.”
“Ahh. Makes sense.”
We walk through the restaurant, past the bar, and into the kitchen, where a spicy fragrance assails my senses. Remi crosses the kitchen to a crockpot on a counter, where he lifts the lid, stirs the contents, and then lowers the heat after replacing the lid.
“What is that?” I ask curiously. “It smells divine.”
“It’s basically a stew of beef and spices I’ll use to make a Chongqing broth for the hot pot.”
Chong what?I’m not eager to confess my ignorance, and nod enthusiastically. “Ahh, okay.”
He leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, and studies my face, a grin spreading over his. “It’s good, I promise.”
“I believe you.” I glance around the kitchen, my gaze darting around the industrial appliances and stainless surfaces. It’s a professional kitchen, full of things I don’t recognize, but I see Remi in the row of herbs potted in small containers along a windowsill, and the colorful collection of pottery houses in an old wooden hutch. “So you weren’t just playing when you were in the cooking aisle of the bookstore,” I tease.
Remi grins and shakes his head. “Nope. I love cooking…playing with textures and flavors.”
“I feel I should warn you—I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing in here. The last thing I cooked was microwave popcorn, and I burned that.”
Remi’s smile is slow and filled with promise and intent. “No worries. I’m a good teacher.”
There’s something in his expression that makes my belly flip with nerves. I utter a high-pitched laugh, even though there was no joke, and break eye-contact, walking over to the sink. “I… uh. Yeah. I’ll just wash my hands.”
Remi joins me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Gotta have clean hands,” he murmurs, far too close to my ear for my equilibrium. I don’t comment, instead taking an inordinately long amount of time to wash up, far too conscious of Remi right beside me, the soap slick over his strong, tanned hands.
Oh, my God. Becky. When did I develop a fu—freaking—hand fetish?
It’s like I’ve never paid attention before to their potential… the strength inherent in each finger to offer pleasure or pain, the potential of that rough pad of the thumb to elicit shudders of sensation, the sturdy power commanded by its overall grip…
Down, girl.Mentally, I fan myself.
“Everything okay?” Remi asks. I realize that I’m just standing, the water running over my exceptionally clean hands, as I stare into space.
I nod, grabbing a towel to dry off. “Yep.” I turn from the sink. “Everything is perfect. So, what comes first?”
After another lingering perusal, Remi moves away, toward the walk-in refrigerator across the room. His Hawaiian shirt, its buttons undone, stirs with the current of air that moves with him, giving me a glimpse of his torso. I’m struck again by a wave of lust, one that thickens the atmosphere and makes my hands shake a little.
I hide them by crossing my arms over my chest. It’s chilly in here compared to the outside warmth and my bikini is no defense against the goosebumps that prickle my flesh.
I don’t even understand how I can be feeling like this. After Oscar and Oliver…it’s difficult to imagine being attracted in this way to someone else. And yet, it was the same with Cope, and if I’m honest with myself, even Jesse in all his asshole glory provokes a similar reaction.
It’s just tempered by anger.
“First, we chop,” Remi announces, bringing me back from my musings as he returns with an armload of vegetables. He nods toward a knife block. “Grab one.”
