Tropical Bartender Bear (Shifting Sands Resort Book 3)

by Zoe Chant

“Bring me back some double A batteries, will you, Tex?” Travis indicated an ancient personal tape player.

  “I need a new pair of socks,” Breck showed off the hole in his stockinged toe. “And can you grab me copy of the latest People magazine?”

  “A new septic system would be great,” Travis quipped. “I don’t know how this one hasn’t failed yet.”

  “We’ve only got a few more days,” Tex reminded them calmly. “Tonight are the final awards, we just have to get through them, and then the beach party, and almost everyone will be leaving tomorrow on the charter.”

  “I don’t know if the water system is going to last that long,” Travis said. His golden skin couldn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes. As early as it was, Laura suspected he had been up late the night before and already been hard at work that morning.

  “I wish I was going,” he added longingly. “But I know if I step foot off the island, there won’t be a working generator in the place.”

  “I could probably fix a generator,” Breck told him. “But I am not touching the toilets, so you aren’t allowed to go.”

  “If people wouldn’t keep flushing whatever the hell they are flushing, they’d all work just fine,” Travis stormed. “Seriously, who flushes paper towels?”

  “Let’s get out of here before Travis goes off on a rant about the crappy electrical system that the original builders put in,” Tex suggested at Laura’s elbow.

  “Lucky dog!” Breck called after them.

  The dock at the south end of the beach was simple and old, which also described the boat that waited for them. It had two outboards, one tipped up out of the water. While the boat was still moored and Laura was getting comfortable in her seat, Tex drew the other up and put the dry one into service. “Travis says to switch them every time we use them,” he explained to Laura’s quizzical look. “Says it prolongs their life.”

  “Why are there two?” Laura asked.

  “Emergency, mostly, but also speed. It’s a good hour to get to the mainland, a good hour back, and it’s open water. You can run both if you’re in a hurry, but it’s really loud that way, and we’re in no rush.”

  One engine sounded plenty loud to Laura; it drowned out easy conversation as it was.

  The day was beautiful; Gizelle’s lyrical description of pouring sunshine seemed incredibly accurate. The ocean glittered under the rays, and twice they saw pods of whales in the distance, flipping tails and blowing spouts. Laura would not have wanted to see them closer.

  “Otter!” Tex pointed out. A small dark head swam beside them for a short while, but they quickly outstripped it. “You don’t often see just one of them,” Tex observed.

  Laura let her hand trail in the sparkling waves, and marveled at the ocean. It was incredibly clear, and at first, they could see down through turquoise layers to the sand and reef below, but it fell away to unspeakably dark depths very quickly.

  There was something comfortable about the journey; the rocking of the boat was alarming at first, but settled into a soothing, mesmerizing pattern. They felt like a part of it, like they fit, together, into an interlocking destiny.

  Turning to look behind them, Laura watch the island shrink. Roofs and landmarks that already felt like home disappeared into the dark emerald jungle that surrounded it, and eventually even that dissolved into the waves of the ocean. It was an odd feeling of loss when it was finally impossible to make out. But by that time, the mainland was in sight, stretching across the eastern horizon like an invitation.

  Tex took the boat into a protected little jetty, to a dock so rickety it made the Shifting Sands dock look new and modern. The mix of boats already there ranged from shining yachts to tiny rowboats with ancient outboards bungee-corded onto them.

  “Can we just leave the boat here?” Laura asked, looking around. The village they’d landed at was a curious mix, the kind of abject poverty she’d expect from a third world nation directly next to a crisp tourist cart with a menu in English, German, and Japanese.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Tex assured her. “They know us here, and no one will risk Scarlet’s wrath by stealing anything. That’s the sort of thing that only happens once...”

  He helped her up onto the dock, which swayed under their steps, and laughed and held her up when Laura’s sea legs caught her by surprise. “It didn’t feel like that long of a ride,” she laughed.

  “We’ll put our order in at Lee’s and go have lunch and a cold drink while they get it together,” Tex suggested, tucking her arm into his and strolling to solid ground.

  Lee’s seemed to be a poorly marked shack from the outside, but was a modern grocery on the inside, stacked to the low ceiling with Spanish-marked goods and more bottled water than Laura had seen in her life. Tex went straight to the back, where a grizzled little Asian man took their order.

  “Not sure I can get that many bottles together,” Lee said, shaking his head over the wine order. “But I’ll ask Lita to run up to the In and Out and see what they have.”

  Tex tipped his hat to him. “My thanks, sir.”

  “Anytime, Cowboy. Take your beautiful young lady here over to the market for a while and come back late afternoon. We’ll have your boat loaded by four.”

  Tex shook his hand.

  “Give my regards to Ms. Scarlet,” Lee added with a wink.

  “Always,” Tex agreed.

  “They know Scarlet here?” Laura observed. “I didn’t think she left the island.”

  “I’ve stopped being surprised by anything to do with Scarlet,” Tex said.

  “Will we be able to get back before dark?” Laura asked with sudden concern. She didn’t like the idea of boating out into darkness without being able to see where they were going. She was honestly a little unnerved by the thought of boating on the open ocean altogether, but she didn’t want to admit that to Tex.

  “When Lee says four, that means four on the dot, so we’ll have a little over an hour to get back before sunset. Should be fine.”

  The reassurance was all Laura needed to enjoy herself.

  They ate lunch at a place on the outskirts of the village that was mostly a leaning porch and a hut, but it served ice cold colas in glass bottles and plates piled with rice, beans, plantains, a salsa Tex introduced as picadillo, something that was almost coleslaw but not quite, and a thigh of spicy grilled chicken.

  A skinny stray dog made itself at home underneath their table, and Laura fed it the last of her rice when she was too full for the last few mouthfuls.

  There was something about the hum of the ocean and the insects, the cries of toucans in the treetops. The fruity smell of warm jungle was comfortable, and the hum of conversation that Laura didn’t understand somehow didn’t make her feel excluded. Everyone flashed wide, sincere smiles at her, eyes almost crinkled shut in their enthusiasm.

  Laura had stuffed herself full, and the stray dog was thumping it’s grateful tail on her foot when Tex stood up and took her hand. “Let’s go see the market.”

  The market proved to be a crooked row just off the beach of tents and cars with their back hatches open, an informal collection of local merchants selling an array of colorful goods. Scarves fluttered in the breeze, and opportunistic sellers offered overpriced suntan lotion and bottled water next to hand-carved masks and sculptures.

  Tex stepped knowingly into a slightly more permanent booth, built of weathered plywood on two sides, with a metal roof over tables heaped with open bins of spices.

  “I’ve got a shopping list from Chef,” he said apologetically. “I thought I’d get it out of the way first.”

  “Don’t mind me,” Laura said, and Tex entered heated negotiations for quantities of spice in the pounds.

  Laura wandered away to let him haggle, stroking silky sarongs hung in wild-colored clusters at the edge of the next booth.

  “Real silk,” the vendor tried to tempt her.

  Laura stopped touching them and moved on with an apologetic smile and shrug. The v
endor moved on to the tourist behind her, launching at once into a friendly explanation of the dying technique.

  Laura glanced to find that Tex and the spice seller were still deep in discussion, and wandered to the next booth.

  It had a collection of carnival masks, brilliantly painted and finely detailed. She was used to masks that relied on the natural color of the wood, but these were entirely covered in a rainbow of paint, bright animal markings, with tiny toucans and many-hued parrots added in relief along the edges. An empty-eyed wildcat with a tiny emerald island painted on its forehead caught Laura’s attention.

  “Hand-carved by my uncle, painted by my sister,” the seller said with an ingratiating smile. “A special price for you.”

  Laura touched it gingerly, drawn to it but skeptical of the sales pitch. The price tag was on the high end of reasonable, but even reasonable was out of her price range.

  She pulled her fingers back, sobering to remember that she was going to need every penny she had in the event she needed to flee further. The idea of staying at Shifting Sands was undeniably appealing, but part of her still doubted her safety there. There had been two attempts on her life, and although Scarlet was skeptical that it was the mob, Laura couldn’t imagine what else it might be.

  And she couldn’t fathom the idea of someone wanting to hurt Jenny.

  She shook her head at the hopeful seller, and walked on, past rows of magnets and souvenirs that had COSTA RICA written in all caps, and, almost as frequently, “Pura Vida,” the Costa Rican motto that meant “pure life.”

  She was looking at carved wooden keychains when she glanced around and saw a fit, dark-haired young man in obviously American clothing talking to the seller in the next booth. He looked shifty, with his close-mouthed smile and mirrored sunglasses. Did she imagine the words “Shifting Sands” at the edge of her hearing? She ducked her head and turned away from them. How far would she have to run to get away from the cartel? And how would she do it with the paltry money she had?

  She hurried back to where Tex, a heavy bag of spices already purchased, was haggling for socks and double A batteries with a seller out of the back of his car.

  A glance back showed the young man buying a keychain, laughing easily. He looked like a tourist, not like a hitman. Laura shook her head and steadied her breath.

  There was no point in becoming paranoid.

  She greeted Tex with a smile that was first forced, then irresistible in return for his delighted grin. Something about his boyish charm drove away her dark musings, and she resolved not to return to them until they were back on the island. She would enjoy this excursion.

  The vendor, having lost Tex’s attention, made a valiant effort to get it back. “Both for twenty-five hundred colon, perhaps?”

  Tex looked back at him blankly, their negotiations clearly forgotten. “Sure,” he laughed with a shrug.

  Laura hoped she hadn’t distracted him into a terrible price.

  Money exchanged, Tex took Laura’s hand and they walked on, pausing to look at the items for sale.

  Tex convinced her to model ridiculous gemstone sunglasses from one table. Laura got him back by convincing him to try on a rainbow sombrero.

  “I love it,” she teased, hiding his cowboy hat behind her back. “It’s your fabulous new look. Much better than the cowboy hat!”

  Tex laughed at her, reaching for his own hat, but Laura giggled and held it away.

  Tex tossed the sombrero back onto the display and made a tackle for Laura, tickling her until she released the hat, and then refused to let go of her without a kiss, which she willingly gave him.

  When she glanced back towards the market, she thought she saw the man with the mirrored sunglasses, but he disappeared back into the crowd before she could be sure.

  Chapter 22

  “Are you going to want dinner before we head back?” Tex asked Laura.

  “After that lunch? I don’t want a whole meal,” Laura laughed.

  Tex loved the way her eyes sparkled when she wasn’t worrying about her future. He would have done anything the in world to keep that stress from her beautiful face. He vowed to make it his life’s goal to make her laugh whenever she wasn’t.

  He introduced her to queso palmito, the mild string cheese ball that peeled into delicious layers, and paired it with roadside strawberries.

  “Oh,” Laura said with delight, putting a second berry to her dark lips. “These are the best strawberries I’ve ever had.”

  She tried to pay the vendor, but there was no way Tex was going to let her open her wallet. “My mother raised me right,” he told her firmly.

  The stubborn flash in her eyes told him he was in for a fight, but a moment of darkness passed over her face, and she put her wallet back in her purse instead.

  They walked in silence down to the edge of the beach. A downed tree made the perfect bench, and they sat with feet in the sand, watching the wild brown children playing in the waves. A few tourists in designer chairs sat with a big cooler between them. Laughter and chatter made a lovely soundtrack to their little snack, and Tex snuck his hand into Laura’s. It lightened his heart when she squeezed it and leaned into him.

  Putting his arms around her was the most natural, perfect way to sit.

  “I love you,” he said, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if she heard him. She didn’t respond.

  After they had licked their hands clean, Tex glanced at his cracked phone display. “They’ve probably got our order packed up at the boat,” he said reluctantly. “We’ll want to get out soon to make it back before dark.”

  He stood and offered a hand to Laura. She looked at it skeptically for a moment, then gave him a slow smile and let him help her up. Tex shouldered the dense spice package and settled his hat on his head, tucking Laura’s hand into the crook of his elbow.

  They walked back over the sand, laughing at the tiny crabs that scuttled away from their steps, and peering up into the sun at the calling seabirds.

  Their steps slowed as they reached the pier, and they found that the boat was indeed ready to go. The delivery boy, hauling an empty wagon bigger than he was, presented them with a receipt that Tex signed off on. He put the carbon copy into his wallet, and then turned to help Laura step down into the boat, to find that she had already scrambled into her seat.

  They putted out of the little bay slowly, then Tex kicked the motor into high gear and the boat skipped over the little waves easily. The sun only just seemed to be dipping down from the zenith, but Tex knew how fast it could set. He squinted out onto the horizon, but the island was still invisible. After a moment of consideration, he crawled back into the stern of the boat and went through the steps to put the second engine into service.

  At Laura’s quizzical look, he explained, “We want to get back before dark, and we’re just cutting it a little close.”

  The engine tipped easily down into the water and Tex pulled out the choke and yanked on the starter cord until it caught. The motor thrummed to life, coughed, and then caught in earnest.

  He was happier with the speed they were making after that.

  “Here!” he told Laura, pulling her into his lap. He showed her how to steer the ship, and let her find the right combination of throttle to use against the wave, and how to point the compass.

  She grinned and squeaked when she mistimed her charge against a wave, sending shattered saltwater over them. Tex held a protective arm around her, enjoying the way she reacted to the ocean by moving in his lap.

  He kissed the back of her neck, and she responded with a throaty purr. “You’ll make me drive the boat off course,” she scolded him.

  Tex was giving her another kiss, followed by an irresistible nibble, when the second engine gave a sudden, unexpected sputter and roar. He only had time to turn and look at it curiously before it exploded.

  Chapter 23

  Laura was trying to focus on keeping the tiny jumping compass line on track with the distraction of Tex’s mouth at th
e back of her neck. She barely heard the noise of the explosion over the roar of the ocean and the engine, and she was caught by surprise when Tex’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her out of the chair and over the side of the boat.

  The water was shocking, even if it wasn’t cold, and Laura thrashed reactively when she came up again -- until a chunk of railing flew over her head and she realized that Tex was trying to pull her away from the sinking, burning boat, one of his arms around her. For a moment, she went limp, and Tex’s strong strokes drew her away from the blaze. Then she added her own strength to their retreat, as the fire hit the water and turned to explosive steam. The boat gave a death gurgle as it sank, and the sound of it was lost to the endless ebb and splash of the ocean around them.

  Laura kicked off her shoes and tread water beside Tex, who had only reluctantly let her go to remove his own boots.

  “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

  Tex shook his head in confusion. “I have no idea what happened!”

  His hat was gone, Laura realized, with a pang, and she never expected that she would miss it so badly.

  Debris surrounded them: chunks of decking, engine molding, a large piece of the awning. Her purse had probably sunk like a stone, but Laura suddenly remembered Jenny’s phone, still in her shorts pocket. She’d bought one of those ridiculous waterproof cases for it, but she’d only hoped to save it from being splashed at the beach; she wasn’t sure if it was going to work for a full-body salt-water dunk.

  She must have looked awkward, treading water with one arm and reaching for it with the other. A wave hit her square in the mouth while her attention was divided and she spat and sputtered.

  The swells that seemed insignificant in a boat were far more malevolent when Laura barely had her head above water.

  While she struggled with her soaking pocket underwater, Tex swam into the debris, testing various pieces with his weight. They weren’t going to be able to tread water until someone found them, and swimming back to the mainland seemed as impossible as swimming to the island — both were tiny on the horizon.