by Ari McKay
After all, Paul had said he was ready to start living again, but he’d said nothing about that life including Devin Walker.
Chapter Nine
PAUL perched on a stool next to the small prep counter and watched while Devin puttered around the kitchen. They were in the chef’s kitchen, which was a private space available to the kitchen and bar staff by request, because Devin insisted on preparing a meal for Paul so he could demonstrate his culinary chops before the cruise ended.
In the two days since they’d left Jamaica, Paul had to force himself to get work done when all he wanted to do was spend time with Devin. When Devin was working a shift at one of the bars, Paul used the time to tour other areas of the ship and talk to employees and guests alike, and he spent an hour or two working on his report each day so he wouldn’t get behind. But he was always waiting to whisk Devin away as soon as Devin’s shift was over, even if they didn’t have any plans other than returning to Paul’s cabin to tear each other’s clothes off.
Paul’s inhibitions about his appearance had faded more swiftly than he expected, but Devin had shown nothing but acceptance and desire that encompassed all of him, and Paul was feeling more comfortable in his own skin as a result. He’d bought more casual clothes—including some shorts—from the Pearl’s clothing shops, and he looked far more like a man on vacation instead of a buttoned-up executive. In fact, he was wearing Devin’s infamous Buffalo Lick Bisons T-shirt at the moment. Wearing Devin’s clothes in public might be a little dangerous, but the satisfaction he got from wearing his lover’s shirt was worth the risk. Besides, he could always play it off as a necessary loan from his “guide” if he needed to.
“What are you making for me?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.
“A Walker family specialty,” Devin replied as he stirred a pot on the stove. “This is our secret barbecue sauce recipe, made from scratch every day back home at the Barbecue Shack. I’ve got a rack of baby back ribs in the oven. I put it in a couple of hours ago when I had a break on my shift. They won’t be quite as good as if I’d had access to a real grill, but they should do. Fresh corn on the cob, which I’ll fire-roast over one of the burners, and fried green tomatoes in beer batter. I think you’ll like them. If I had more time, I would have made you my potato salad—sweet and tangy and soft and crunchy. It’s a wonder, but it takes a couple of days to do right. Oh, and an appetizer, which I’ll grab in just a minute.”
Paul sat up straight as he stared at Devin, taken aback by the menu. “That’s definitely not what I expected you to make here.”
The kitchen was equipped with the same quality appliances and tools as the main kitchen, albeit on a smaller scale, but Paul never imagined Devin could whip up ribs and corn on the cob in it.
Devin turned down the heat on the sauce, then crossed to the big refrigerator. He took out several prep bowls and carried them to the counter. “I hope you like ceviche, because you’re about to get my favorite version.” He winked playfully as he reached under the counter and pulled out a pair of tall, clear glasses, juggling them for a moment before setting them in front of Paul.
The juggling made Paul smile, as it always did. He wasn’t sure why the sight of Devin juggling glasses or bottles—or whatever—gave him such pleasure. Maybe because the act revealed Devin’s playfulness so well, and Paul found himself drawn to that side of Devin more and more.
“I do like ceviche,” he said, leaning on the counter again. “What’s special about your version?”
“Well, as you may know, ceviche is known all over Asia and the Americas, but varies by region and culture,” Devin explained as he set to work. He took a tomato from one of the bowls and sliced it before retrieving a piece of cheesecloth from a drawer. He placed the tomato in the cheesecloth, bundling it with deft motions and then holding it over one of the glasses. As he squeezed, tomato juice dripped into the glass. “It used to require several hours of marinating, but that changed in the seventies, when certain Japanese influences married up with the traditional Central and South American traditions.” After he had about an inch of juice in the glass, Devin moved the bundle over the other glass and repeated the process.
After throwing away the tomato, Devin juiced half a lime into the glasses. “The main similarity of all versions is the acidic base, which serves to process the proteins of raw seafood, sort of a chemical form of cooking without the heat. So the main commonalities of all forms are acid, seasonings, and seafood.”
As Devin continued his explanation, he added some diced cilantro and bell pepper to the glasses, then peeled plastic wrap off several other small dishes. Into the glasses went chunks of pale fish, cooked shrimp, cubes of lobster, and diced crab. Grabbing a bottle of vodka, Devin topped off the glasses, then added a dash of pepper to the mix. His final touches were a celery stick and a seafood fork.
“Mr. Bailey, may I present your Bloody Mare.” Devin grinned as he passed one glass to Paul, amused with his own play on the name of the cocktail and the Latin word for the sea.
Paul couldn’t help but chuckle even as he gave an exaggerated groan, but he didn’t waste any time picking up the fork and taking a bite of the ceviche. The sweetness of the seafood was brightened by the tart citrus, and Paul hummed with pleasure as he ate.
“This is one of the best ceviche recipes I’ve ever tasted,” he said, forking up another bite eagerly.
Devin’s smile widened in pleasure at the compliment. “Thanks. I wanted to show you I can do more than just good old Texas barbecue.” He tucked into his own appetizer, then frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve tried making it with tequila and even with a passionfruit liqueur, which was the closest thing I could find to what the ancient Peruvians used in their historic version of the dish. But I liked vodka the best. It was a better balance for the types of seafood I wanted to use.”
Listening to Devin talk about food made it easy to remember he was a culinary school graduate with aspirations beyond being a bartender on board the Pearl.
“Granted, my palate isn’t as refined as a trained chef’s, but this tastes really good to me,” Paul said.
“I’m glad you like it.” Devin put his glass aside, leaning across the counter. “How about a kiss for the cook?”
Paul smiled as he pushed his empty glass aside and leaned across the counter to meet Devin in the middle. “I’d say the cook has earned one,” he said, and then he closed the remaining distance between them and captured Devin’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
Devin hummed in pleasure, returning the kiss for several long moments. “I feel like I got dessert before dinner, you kiss so sweetly,” he teased. “Have I whetted your appetite? The one for food, I mean.”
“You’ve whetted both appetites,” Paul said as he sat back on his stool. “But you need to sate one of mine before I can sate one of yours. Otherwise, I might run out of steam.”
“Perish the thought!” Devin winked, then turned back to the stove. As he prepared the rest of the meal, he told Paul amusing anecdotes about his home back in Texas, and Paul heard the love Devin had for his big, rowdy family underlying his words.
“Beau is my cousin who runs the Barbecue Shack. He’s a blue-eyed blond that all the girls were gaga over. He came out about the time I was a senior in high school, and I can tell you, it was a huge relief for me, because I’d been wondering how in the hell I was going to do it myself. The family accepted Beau’s announcement, though I know some of the cousins mumbled about how they weren’t sure it could be true, since Beau is a former quarterback and so manly.” Devin chuckled and shook his head. “At the next big family dinner, Aunt Lula Mae, who is in her nineties, thumped her cane on the floor and announced she’d been described as ‘mannish’ her whole long, spinsterish life, and if Beau decided to wear a dress and looked better in one than she did, she was going to disinherit the whole lot of us.”
Paul laughed, delighted by the story, although he envied Devin a little as well. Paul’s family was smaller and not demo
nstrative or close-knit. He wouldn’t go so far as to say his parents were cold, but they had been fine with turning Paul over to a nanny, and the only big dinners they’d ever hosted were for professional contacts.
“So your family is accepting of Beau and his husband?” he asked. “What about your boyfriends?”
“Yeah, Beau and Jake don’t have any problems. Of course, it helps, I think, that Jake’s family has been in Buffalo Lick for generations, just like the Walkers, and Jake had the whole town’s sympathy for giving up his life in California to take care of his sister-in-law and her children after his twin brother died.” Devin paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I had a couple of boyfriends in culinary school, but that was in Houston.” A flash of pain, striking for being unusual, showed in Devin’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Paul wondered if he had imagined it. “Neither of them meant enough to me to take home and meet the folks. When I take someone home, I want it to be someone special, someone I can build a life with. Because heaven knows, anyone casual would probably run screaming from the combined matchmaking efforts of my kin.”
“How could they matchmake? It’s not like they’d have a reason to round everyone up for a shotgun wedding,” Paul said, trying not to wonder too much about whether Devin’s family would like him—or if Devin would even consider taking him home in the first place.
“Oh, please.” Devin rolled his eyes and laughed. “You are obviously a city fella, if you don’t know how small towns are. Weddings and funerals are the biggest events outside of the rodeo, and the local women aren’t going to miss a chance to put the pressure on a likely couple to get married, then take the credit for getting them together. You know the biggest goings-on at weddings and funerals? Gossip and matchmaking. It’s a cycle. Especially in a tiny, relatively poor community like Buffalo Lick.”
Paul tried to imagine being in the middle of Devin’s big, boisterous family, but he couldn’t, not when his own experiences with family were the exact opposite. He wanted to ask if Devin would ever consider him special enough to introduce to the Walker clan, and he was surprised by the depth of his desire to know the answer. They’d barely known each other a week, so he shouldn’t be thinking long-term. Not to mention there was the secret-identity issue.
He was struck by the abrupt realization that he considered Devin special enough to introduce to his parents, to find a way to make a relationship work even if it was long-distance.
He realized he was falling in love, and that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away before Devin could see too much in his eyes. “I can see why you’re careful about who you take home, given those circumstances.”
Devin was silent for a moment, and then he leaned across the counter. “Um… I know we haven’t known each other long, Paul, but… well… if you were interested in coming to Buffalo Lick, I’d really like that.”
Paul snapped his gaze back to Devin’s face and saw a blend of hope and worry there, and his heart thudded against the walls of his chest at the implication behind Devin’s words. He stretched out his hand and curled his fingers around Devin’s, squeezing tightly.
“I’m interested,” he said. He’d have to tell Devin the truth about his own family, and he would, but not tonight. He didn’t want to make things awkward on a professional level since Devin was still supposed to be his liaison for the rest of the cruise. But as soon as the cruise was over, he’d tell Devin who he was. He hoped it wouldn’t change anything between them. The only things he’d withheld from Devin were his real last name and position in the company; he’d been open and honest about everything else.
Devin drew in a breath, his expression registering surprise. But then he smiled, a warm, slow smile full of affection. He turned his hand over beneath Paul’s, lacing their fingers as he leaned in closer, brushed his lips against Paul’s, then pulled back. “All right, then,” he said. “In that case, you get to keep the T-shirt.”
“I’m being gifted with the sacred Buffalo Lick Bisons shirt?” Paul pressed his free hand against his chest in exaggerated shock. “That’s almost enough for me to consider myself betrothed.”
Devin chuckled. “Maybe you ought to try the ribs first,” he teased. “Because if you don’t like the family barbecue sauce, I’m afraid it would mean we’d have to call everything off.”
“No pressure,” Paul said dryly. He stroked the back of Devin’s hand with his thumb as he gazed at Devin, his spirit feeling lighter than it had in years. He didn’t care any longer about how quickly their relationship was moving; this felt right, and he was no longer afraid of rejection—not from Devin. “How long before I can try the ribs so we’ll know if this is fate or a crash-and-burn?”
“I need about ten minutes with the broiler,” Devin replied. He claimed another kiss—this one firmer—then pulled back. “Make sure you eat enough to bolster your strength, Paul Bailey, because I have nefarious plans for you after dinner.”
“That’s all the incentive I need to clean my plate,” Paul said, releasing Devin’s hand with reluctance.
He was looking forward to dinner and those promised baby back ribs, but he was looking forward to dessert even more.
Chapter Ten
THE beeping of his watch pulled Devin out of a deep sleep. After months on the ship, it took him only a moment to recognize from the lack of movement that they had made it to port, which meant they’d arrived back in Galveston and the cruise was over. Sighing with regret, he silenced the alarm, but he was unable to resist the urge to wrap his arms around Paul and spoon up against his back, pressing his lips to Paul’s exposed nape. He breathed in deeply, letting Paul’s scent fill his senses, wondering how in only two brief weeks Paul had become so entwined with Devin’s happiness that Devin wanted to wake up next to him every morning for the rest of their lives.
It did seem sudden and almost frighteningly intense, but Devin thought it was good luck that Paul had been assigned to the Pearl and that Kate had made Devin his liaison. Or maybe it was fate. Devin believed in destiny, having seen it in action among his family and friends. His cousins Beau and Liam had both found love through the strange workings of fate, and Devin felt lucky that he’d also been blessed. Not that either he or Paul had said the words yet, but Devin knew what he felt, and he was optimistic enough to believe that if Paul wasn’t in love with him yet, it was only a matter of time.
The watch beeped again, and this time Devin groaned. He didn’t want to move, but he had responsibilities. He nipped lightly at Paul’s sensitive skin. “Time to rise and shine,” he said. “I have to help with debarking the passengers, and you have a meeting with Kate.”
Paul released a slow, sleepy sigh and nestled closer to Devin. “Right now?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Duty calls.” Devin moved one hand down to the curve of Paul’s bare ass, caressing for a moment, then giving it a small smack. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let you out of this bed for another two weeks. But Kate might make both of us walk the plank.”
Grumbling, Paul stretched, and then he rolled over to face Devin, his expression pensive. “How long before you’ll be free?”
Devin raised one eyebrow, wondering what had Paul worried. “It’ll take until nearly noon to get all the passengers off. Then I have to help with restocking, though that won’t take too long. I’m supposed to meet with Kate myself around two, and then I’m done.”
Other than Devin’s invitation for Paul to come to Buffalo Lick, they hadn’t discussed what would happen when the cruise was over. Devin was taking two weeks of leave, so he would miss the Pearl’s next cruise. He’d had plans to go back to Buffalo Lick, but if Paul wanted him to come to Charleston, Devin would happily go. But Paul hadn’t extended the invitation, and Devin had been too focused on enjoying their time together to dwell much on what might happen afterward, preferring to leave it in the hands of fate.
“I’m not heading back to Charleston right away.” Paul gnawed
on his bottom lip as he searched Devin’s face. “I thought I’d get a hotel room for tonight, at least. I’ll text you the info, and you could meet me there? We could order room service and stay in.”
“I’d like that.” Devin caressed Paul’s cheek. “Is something wrong?”
“No, just a reaction to reality setting back in, I think.” Paul smiled wryly. “These past two weeks have been idyllic, and I hate to leave the ship.”
“So do I,” Devin admitted. Something felt a bit off-kilter, and Devin’s warm sense of contentment evaporated. Maybe Paul was right and it was simply the return to reality, so he smiled and pressed his lips to Paul’s, claiming a slow, gentle kiss. He had to trust that fate knew what it was doing, and, after all, Paul was staying in Galveston at least for the night. They’d have to talk about plans for the future, but Devin was sure they could make things work. “Everything will be fine, right? We can discuss it tonight. Maybe we can figure out a way that the idyll doesn’t have to end here.”
Paul’s smile grew warm, and he slid his fingers through Devin’s hair, stroking it gently. “I’d like that.”
That smile helped to quiet Devin’s fears, and he leaned into Paul’s caressing hand. “Good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you once we leave this suite until I can leave the ship, but I want more. More of you. I’ll meet you wherever you’d like, even if it means coming to Charleston.” Maybe he was pushing too hard, but he wanted Paul to know he was serious.
“I’ve got some work to do after I meet Kate,” Paul said, massaging Devin’s scalp with his fingertips. “I need to finish up my paperwork and send it in, and I should probably make a couple of calls. But I’m going to find a hotel as soon as I leave the ship and work from there. I should be finished by the time you’re free. We can figure out everything else from there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Devin wrapped his arms around Paul, then rolled to the side, pulling Paul on top of him and giving him a teasing grin. “So give me a goodbye-for-now kiss to hold me until tonight. You wouldn’t want me to starve for the lack of kisses before you see me again, would you?”