Veritas (10 page)

Lauren nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah.” Grey ran a hand through her hair and looked around the salon. Her eyes drifted to the spot in the galley where they had been standing the day before when she had almost kissed Lauren, and her pulse spiked at the memory of it. Somehow, in a span of only four days, she had gone from wanting to fire Lauren, to wanting to kiss her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as that truth began to truly sink in.

She was genuinely attracted to Lauren. For the first time in three years, she wanted another woman in a way that had nothing to do with forgetting her pain and everything to do with simple desire. She did not want to let go of the hurt and sorrow she had worn like armor these last few years. She did not want to forget Emily. But she was finally ready to admit to herself that letting go of the hurt and pain she had worn like armor for so long did not mean that she was forgetting Emily. It simply meant that she was moving on.

Grey could not ignore the way her stomach fluttered when she turned to look at Lauren, and she sighed. She would never forget Emily, could never possibly forget her, but she wanted this. And, even though Lauren had been the one to pull away, Grey knew that she had not imagined the spark she felt between them. Two weeks was not enough time for anything serious to develop, but maybe, just maybe, it was enough time for her to learn to live again.

“I…” Grey cleared her throat softly and gave Lauren a small smile. She tried to ignore the way her heart was racing, but she could hear the way it made her voice tremble ever so slightly. “After the trash gets picked up, would you want to maybe go over to Pusser’s for some diner? Take advantage of your night off?

Grey’s smile was soft and hopeful, and Lauren found herself returning it as she nodded. “That sounds great.” She looked down at herself and sighed. Though they were clean, her shorts and shirt were not exactly appropriate for going out. “Would I have time to shower?”

“Of course.” Grey’s breath caught as Lauren’s eyes turned back to her, sweeping slowly up her body in a deliberate once-over. It was not the first time she had caught Lauren looking at her like that, but it was the first time she was willing to acknowledge
what it did to her. She arched a brow when Lauren’s eyes landed on hers, looking darker than usual and somewhat embarrassed at having been caught, and added, “I’ll probably grab one too after I get the trash unloaded, so take as long as you want. The Muellers have a key, we’re not in a rush.”

Lauren nodded once. “All right.” She licked her lips as she held Grey’s gaze, and then smiled shyly as she finally looked away and disappeared down the stairs to her cabin.

Grey stared at the empty stairway for a moment, feeling the way her heart fluttered with anticipation in her chest, and shook her head as she pulled her phone from her pocket to call the harbormaster.

Grey kept stealing glances at Lauren as she led the way to the stairs that led to the second floor dining room above the bar at Pusser’s Landing. Lauren’s flowing ankle-length skirt sat low on her hips and swished seductively around her legs as she walked, and her teal tank hugged her lithe torso to perfection, but it was her hair that had Grey so captivated. From the moment Lauren had set foot aboard the
Veritas
, her hair had always been up, but tonight she had opted to leave it down. Her curls were soft around her face and tickled the backs of her shoulders, and Grey’s fingers itched to comb through the fiery tresses.

The curls seemed to take on a life of their own, bouncing lightly with every step, and Grey was so captivated by it that she
flat-out missed the first stair and ended up lunging for the handrail to keep her feet. “Shit,” she hissed under her breath as she skipped quickly up a handful of steps before resuming a more relaxed pace.

Lauren chuckled at the way Grey tried to act like nothing had happened. “Looks like my clumsiness is rubbing off,” she teased, her eyes glued to Grey’s ass.
Grey had changed into a pair of cream-colored linen slacks that hugged her backside to delicious perfection, and Lauren was completely hypnotized by the flex of taut muscles beneath the fabric.

Grey
glanced over her shoulder at Lauren, and her pulse jumped at the hungry look darkening Lauren’s eyes. “No knives for either of us tonight, I guess.”

A light
blush tinted Lauren’s cheeks when she realized that she had been caught staring, and she cleared her throat softly as she shook her head. “Kids menu for everyone, then.”

“Dear god, no,” Grey chuckled. She led Lauren over to the hostess’ station, and smiled as she held up two
fingers. “Two, please.” She glanced back at Lauren as the hostess gathered their menus and added, “But, I mean, if you want fish sticks and stuff…”

“Yeah, no. I think I’ll risk the knives.” Lauren fell into step beside Grey as they followed the hostess to their table, her eyes sweeping over the half-empty dining room. They were led to a small table that was pushed up against the balcony railing, and she nodded appreciatively at the view of the marina below. “Wow.”

Grey smiled and gallantly pulled Lauren’s chair out for her. “Not a bad view, eh?”

“Not at…” Lauren’s voice trailed off as she looked
over at Grey, who was bent slightly at the waist as she held onto the chair, making the open collar of her pale blue camp shirt flare, giving Lauren the barest peek of black lace against the supple swell of her breasts. She cleared her throat softly and smoothed her skirt over the backs of her legs as she hurried to sit. “Um, not a bad view at all,” she finished lamely, licking her lips nervously as she looked back out over the water and offered up a silent prayer that Grey had not noticed her staring. The knowing look Grey gave her as she sat down across the table told Lauren that she had not been so lucky, and she hid her face behind her menu the moment the hostess handed it to her.

“The specials tonight, which you’ll find in your menu, are the Caribbean lobster and the pineapple curry shrimp,” the hostess recited in a bored tone as she handed a menu to Grey. “Your server, Jameson, will be with you shortly. Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Grey murmured. Once the hostess left, she chuckled and opened her own menu, even though she already knew what she was going to order. She had not intended to give Lauren a little show when she pulled her chair out for her, but she was both amused and flattered by Lauren’s reaction. “See anything that looks good?”

Lauren let her menu fall and shrugged, refusing to rise t
o playful twinkle in Grey’s eyes. “I don’t know. The lobster?”

“Not worth it.” Grey shook her head. “I mean, it may be because I grew up in New England and everything, but the lobster here in the islands just isn’t that great. Their shrimp curry is pretty good though.”

“What are you getting?” Lauren asked, her forehead furrowing thoughtfully as she looked back down at her menu.

“Conch fritters and the jerk chicken salad.”

Lauren chuckled at how quickly Grey responded, and looked up at her through her lashes. “I take it that’s what you order every time you come here?”

“Pretty much,” Grey admitted with a grin. “No matter what you order, though, you gotta have a Painkiller to drink.”

“I do, huh?” Lauren flipped to the front of her menu where the restaurant’s drinks were listed. The Painkiller was at the top of the mixed drinks menu, obviously the house special—a blend of dark rum, cream of coconut, pineapple juice, orange juice, and nutmeg. Lauren nodded as she flipped back to the entrees. “Sounds good.”

“It is,” Grey assured her with as smile, her attention shifting from Lauren to the waiter who
stopped beside their table.

“Welcome to Pusser’s Landing. My name is Jameson, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Two Painkillers,” Grey ordered for them both. “And can we get an order of conch fritters?”

Jameson nodded as he scribbled their order on his notepad. “Of course. Would you like to order your entrees now as well?”

Lauren shook her head and did not bother to look up as she said, “I need another minute.”

“Not a problem,” Jameson assured her with a smile
as he backed away to place their drink order and appetizer orders.

Grey rested her elbows on the edge of the table and perched her chin on her folded hands
. Not wanting to make Lauren feel self-conscious, she pretended to look out over the harbor even though she was really watching Lauren read through the menu out of the corner of her eye. It was like watching a silent play. Lauren would silently mouth an occasional word or phrase that caught her attention, and then her forehead would either crinkle in disgust, or a look of pure surprise would light her face as she nodded in agreement with what she was reading. The longer Grey watched Lauren, the more she wished she knew which of the restaurant’s dishes elicited each reaction, and she felt almost disappointed when Lauren finished reading and set the folded menu onto the table beside her.

Island service is habitually slow, and tonight was no different, so by the time Jameson returned with their drinks, Lauren had long since finished studying the menu. She waved a hand at Grey to go ahead and order first as she skimmed the menu one last time, before going ahead and ordering the jerk chicken salad as well. She smiled at the surprised look Grey gave her as their
waiter disappeared. “I just figured that it has to be good if you order it every time.”

“No, it is
. I was just thinking that you’d want something more island-y.”

“The menu has burgers on it, Grey,” Lauren said, her voice tinged with laughter. “I don’t think a chain restaurant whose menu consists of burgers, pub grub, and Anglicized fish dishes is the place to expect quality Caribbean fare.”

“Not really, no,” Grey agreed, chuckling as she reached for her drink. “We’ll have a few days off before the next cruise because it’s only a five-day charter. I’ll take you to a couple of local spots on Saint Thomas that have some awesome island food. Sound good?”

Lauren smiled and reached out to run a finger around the rim of her glass, catching a few flecks of nutmeg on the pad of her index finger. “That sounds great.” She put her finger in her mouth, curious as to whether or not the bar used freshly ground nutmeg on the drinks. She was pleased to see that they did, and she hummed approvingly as she wiped her finger
dry on her napkin. “Is there a reason the next charter is only five days?”

It was clear from the look on Lauren’s face that she had not meant for the whole sucking-her-finger-clean thing to be a tease, that it was just a matter of her tasting an ingredient in the drink, but knowing that did not lessen Grey’s reaction to it. Her mouth was suddenly dry—impossibly, been-walking-through-a-desert-for-weeks-with-nothing-to-drink dry—and she could swear that a heater somewhere
nearby had been turned on high. Her expression must have shown some of her discomfort because Lauren was looking at her inquiringly, and she shook her head as she took a generous swallow of her drink, hoping that the blended ice would help keep her face from flushing. “What?”

“I said, is there a reason the next charter is only five days?”

“Right,” Grey drawled, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “Um, probably the cost. A five-day cruise is not a lot cheaper than the eight, but there is a little bit of a break.”

“Makes sense.” Lauren picked up her drink and took a tentative sip. The Painkiller was not nearly as creamy as a Pi
ñ
a Colada, but the orange juice really carried the flavors of the drink well. “Not bad.” She nodded thoughtfully to herself as she set her glass back down on the table. “So, will it be a shorter version of the cruise we’re on now, then?”

“Pretty much. Unless the client requests certain stops, or is someone I’ve taken out before, I usually stick to the same general itinerary.”

Lauren leaned back in her chair and tucked her hair behind her ears as she looked around the dining room. “So, I gotta ask, what, exactly, is a ‘Pusser’? Please tell me it’s not island slang for a certain part of the female anatomy.”

Grey laughed and shook her head. “It’s not,” she said as she picked up her drink and leaned back in her chair, mimicking Lauren’s posture. “Although, that would be pretty awesome. But, no. Pusser is actually slang in the Royal Navy for purser, which would now be called the ship’s supply officer. The Pusser was in charge of handing out supplies to the men, including rations of rum, so the rum rations became known as ‘Pusser’s rum’.”

“So the Royal Navy sells rum?” Lauren asked, arching a brow in surprise as she reached for her glass again.

“No. They used to produce it to ration out to their sailors, but that stopped in…
I want to say 1970.”

Lauren sipped at her drink and grinned. “That couldn’t have been a very popular decision.”

“Probably not,” Grey agreed with a nod. She looked up at their waiter, who was carrying a plate of conch fritters.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?” Jameson asked as he set the appetizer plate in the center of the table.

Grey arched a questioning brow at Lauren and, when she shook her head, said, “I think we’re good for now, thanks.”