Caribbean Cruising Read online

  “Ryan isn’t a stick-in-the-mud,” I retorted.

  “Well, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Party Guy on the boat this afternoon,” Brooke asked.

  “We crashed his party,” I reminded her. “He invited me, I invited you, and you invited the guys we met last night. So maybe he was a little bummed. Maybe he had a right to be.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  I was a little ticked off at her for not appreciating everything Ryan had given us this afternoon. There was a part of me that liked Brooke, and a part of me that thought Brooke was all about Brooke. That maybe she thought the world revolved around her.

  Not that we don’t all have moments like that, but Brooke seemed to think everything centered on her all the time.

  She hooked her arm through mine. “The afternoon is over, and it’s time to find some guys to warm us through the night.”

  Warm us through the night. Yes, I was so down with that. And just like that I decided to overlook some of Brooke’s more irritating aspects, and to just appreciate the party girl in her. And hope that some of the party girl would rub off on me, because I thought only a major distraction was going to cause me to stop thinking about Ryan’s kiss.

  Music filtered out into the night as Brooke and I checked out the nightlife. She was totally into it, snapping her fingers, singing a few lines of a tune whenever we heard a song that we knew.

  I was completely loose and relaxed when Brooke grabbed my hand and led me into a thatched-roofed building. From the look at the people inside, no one dressed up for island night life apparently.

  “This way,” Brooke called back to me as she marched forward, unafraid.

  We wended our way among the crowds until we reached the veranda and courtyard. The islands were known for their steel-pan bands, and here the music from a live band resonated around us.

  “Over here,” Brooke said, pointing to a small table.

  We’d barely sat down when a waitress came over to take our orders. Brooke ordered two beers before I could say anything.

  Brooke was bobbing her shoulders up and down, rolling them around, in rhythm with the music.

  “Is this not cool?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks. Brooke picked a bottle up, then turned back to give her attention to the band. I smiled at the waitress, dug into my pocket, and retrieved some money to place on her tray. I was beginning to notice that when it was time to pay for things, Brooke was usually preoccupied—watching something else or conveniently talking with someone.

  I didn’t mind. I didn’t have any expenses on this trip except for what I spent on the islands, and I’d been saving my money for some time.

  Once the waitress walked away, Brook turned back to me and tapped the neck of her bottle against mine. “To good times.”

  Lifting my bottle, I returned the gesture.

  This was so unlike anything that my buds and I had done before, that I was feeling a little like a stranger in a strange land. And yet, I loved it. The sounds, the atmosphere, the people who continually wandered in and out.

  It was obvious that most of the people were tourists. Too many were sunburned or had zinc oxide covering their noses. Probably from doing much of the same things that we’d done today.

  I watched as a couple of guys at one table were chugalugging bottles of beer without stopping, their friends cheering them on. I figured the winner was the one who finished first.

  A resounding cheer went up as a dark-haired guy slammed his empty bottle on the table and released a large belch. Everyone was patting him on the back. He wore a lei around his neck. Only one button on his Hawaiian shirt was buttoned. That seemed to be about as dressed up as he got. He caught me looking at him and grinned.

  In an effort to improve my flirtation technique, I grinned back.

  “So how would you describe Ryan’s kiss?” Brooke asked.

  I jerked my attention away from the hottie, and stared at Brooke. “What?”

  “Ryan. When he kissed you this afternoon, what was it like?”

  I took a swig of beer, not really liking the taste. I decided when the waitress stopped by, I’d order a margarita. For now, I needed some time to think up an answer to Brooke’s question. I’d never shared my experiences with guys with my best friends, and I felt a little awkward revealing anything to Brooke. On the other hand, once this trip was over, we’d probably never see each other again.

  “It was nice,” I said.

  Her eyes got big and round. “Nice? Nice is when a guy gives you the answers to your math homework. Get a little more specific.”

  “It was just a kiss. It just wouldn’t be fair to try to describe it.”

  “Toadlike?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Slobbery?”

  “No.” I gave up trying to get her to stop asking me about the kiss. “It was perfect, okay?”

  “Okay.” She grinned. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Honestly, Lindsay, you need to learn to open up. I sense that you have a lot of repressed sexuality.”

  “What are you? A psychiatrist?”

  “I’m an observer of human nature.” Brooke looked back over the crowds as though she was extremely pleased with something.

  “Come on, let’s dance!” she shouted.

  “We don’t have dance partners,” I pointed out.

  “Who’s going to notice in that crowd?”

  I followed her out to the patio where people were dancing—not always together, not always as couples. It didn’t really seem to matter.

  The important thing was to move with the music, sidle up to someone, make eye contact, and move away to the next person. Brooke seemed completely comfortable doing exactly that. I was more or less dancing by myself. No way could I go up and touch my shoulder to a stranger’s.

  Then I felt a nudge against my shoulder and turned. There was the beer-guzzling winner.

  He grinned. “Aren’t you traveling on The Enchantment?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Thought I saw you at the club last night. I’m Chad.”

  “Lindsay.”

  We were dancing, moving, even as we were talking.

  “So where are you from?” he asked.

  I laughed at the now unoriginal but so familiar question. “Dallas.”

  “New Orleans.”

  We continued to move in rhythm to the beat of the band. Chad was cute. Dark hair and eyes. Up close, it appeared that he’d decided to give his razor a vacation as well, because he had stubble on his chin that seemed scraggly and out of place.

  “So you partying loose?” he asked. “Or are you hooked up with someone?”

  “Well, I came with a friend.”

  I pointed over to where Brooke was dancing between two guys. One I recognized as the beer-guzzling loser. I have to admit that I felt rather pleased that the winner had chosen me. Although I suppose even the word “winner” can be a relative term.

  I didn’t want to contemplate on the fact that Brooke’d attracted two guys to my one. She was definitely vixen flirtation.

  Chad grinned. “Only her? No dude?”

  “No dude.”

  “Cool.”

  We continued to dance. Chad was nice enough. He had a cute, sexy grin. Orthodontist money, well spent. But I didn’t feel that skip-a-heartbeat-catch-my-breath double take that I had when I’d met Ryan.

  As the music momentarily paused, Chad took my hand to keep me in the dance area. As the music started up again, and we picked up the rhythm of the beat, I told myself that he was a lot of fun.

  Because he was cute. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the guy. I kept telling myself that maybe he was the one. However, myself kept replying, “Don’t think so.”

  But I couldn’t figure out why not.

  Brooke made her way over to me, her two guys in tow.

  “This is Marc with a C, and Shooter,” Brooke said, introducing her dance partners.