Page 27 of Visions of You

A nervous little ripple ran through me at the thought. Over the previous weeks, the angry, withdrawn man I’d met had become casual, even easygoing. Unless someone did something he thought was a safety risk. Then Hot Grumpy Guy came back in full force. There was no point in denying Operation Sabbatical was in serious jeopardy. Gabe had drivenShark Baittoday, and the friendly sibling teasing between him and Maia had made me smile all morning.

And after our conversation yesterday in his wood shop, I was even more eager to see him. His smile had made me weak. It made my insides melt. And he’d been about to kiss me. Until his watch alarm went off, anyway.

I brushed out my damp hair, then frowned in the mirror. “I don’t have time to do anything with this.” Digging into my bag, I pulled out a clip, twisted my hair into a coil, then clipped it at the back of my head. I didn’t have any makeup with me and generally didn’t wear any. I shrugged at my reflection. “I’m going for dinner and maybe some conversation. It’s not like it’s a date. He might have left by now anyway.”

Not a date.

I kept repeating that as I made sure the shop was locked up. Then I headed toward the beach. The western corner past the last bungalow was alight with party lights, crisscrossing over a dozen picnic tables. The breeze wafted a rich, delicious scent toward me, and I took a deep breath. Soft sounds of an acoustic ensemble band drifted into the night.

As I entered the area, I swept my gaze around, but the place was nearly deserted. No guests sat at picnic tables, which had already been wiped clean. A small area before the stage had been cleared to make room for dancing. Footprints in the sand said people had been dancing there earlier, but now the area was empty of revelers.

And Gabe wasn’t around, either.

A willowy woman, her white apron contrasting her dark skin vividly, stood behind a line of covered metal pans.

“Am I too late to get something to eat, Felicia?”

“Evenin’, April,” she said in a soft Caribbean accent, smiling as she stepped forward. “There’s plenty left, and it’s still nice and warm.”

She dished me up a plate of grilled chicken along with rice and beans and homemade coleslaw, and I made my way over to the bar and sat at the counter. I kicked off my flip-flops. After another glance around the nearly empty area, I tried not to be disappointed that I’d missed Gabe. “Can I get an IPA, Charli?”

The woman behind the counter nodded and wiped out a pint glass. Charli had been a bartender at the resort for ten years and was one of the first employees I’d met. Her blond hair was slightlytoo platinum to be natural. Her tan arms were well muscled, and she could turn on a hard edge to deal with troublemakers when needed. But otherwise, she was friendly and affable, a perfect fit for the job.

As she tilted the glass under the tap, I couldn’t help asking, “Was Gabe here earlier?”

“Yeah. He left to make sure Hailey was settled in for the night. I was surprised—he usually doesn’t show up to these things. But now that he’s here for good, I guess he wants to interact with guests more.”

I nodded and scooped rice and beans into my mouth, trying to decide if he’d been looking for me.

Well, if he was, I missed him.

“Night dive tonight?” she asked, sliding the ice-cold beer toward me.

“Yeah. It was a fun one. Two enormous tarpons followed us and used our lights to hunt. The divers loved it.”

Charli’s eyes got huge, and she shuddered. “You and I have different ideas of fun, then.”

I laughed and we traded small talk as I ate. After finishing, I couldn’t resist seeing if Felicia had any desserts left. I clapped my hands when she presented me with a slice of cherry cheesecake.

I had just sat back down when Charli returned, and our conversation transitioned to a Saturday outdoor movie night held on Driftwood Beach, near Conch Republic Brewpub. Leaning casually on the bar, she was telling me the lineup when the overhead party lights threw a shadow over me. Someone sat down on my right.

Charli straightened with a grin. “You’re back!”

My heart lurched, then took off at a dead run as Gabe nodded. He wore a soft blue button-down shirt and dressy shorts, his beard trimmed to stubbly perfection. His eyes met mine for a long beat before turning back to the bartender. “Officially off duty now.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out a glass tumbler. “I know what that means. The only question is whether you want Macallan or Glenlivet?”

Gabe leaned forward and pressed his hands against the counter. “Do you have any of the 18 Double Cask down here?”

Charli rolled her eyes. “It’s a barbeque, Gabe! The eighteen-year-old stuff is kept nice and safe behind the main bar.” She pointed toward Dorado. “The Glenlivet I’ve got is a 12. But you’re in luck because I brought one bottle of the Macallan 15. Just in case you might want some.”

He sat back again and rested an elbow on the counter, looking impossibly gorgeous. “True. The really good stuff is to be saved for special occasions only. Macallan, please.” He turned to me and smiled.

My mouth went dry.

Charli poured a healthy shot into the glass and pushed it toward him before retreating to the other end of the bar.

“No ice?” I asked.

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