Page 26 of Smartasses
“You want to start with the Queen’s Staircase?” The Smitty-six step historical site was a literal staircase carved directly into the limestone.” Then there are some local art galleries within walking distance we could explore.”
“Sounds good.” They passed through the area filled with cruise ship crew members who had been helping to direct the tourists but were now packing up their pamphlets. “Let’s grab lunch, do the staircase and galleries. Then maybe, we can fit in the pirate museum too.”
“Aye aye, matey,” she said in her best pirate accent.
Tonight after dinner, she’d duct tape him to a lounge chair if she had to, but she was going to tell him everything about the thirst account and the post she’d made and deleted. Until then, she’d go forward as if there wasn’t a countdown clock starting to echo in her heart.
One jerk chicken and two cold beers later, Carter still couldn’t motivate himself to get up from the table. Content wasn’t a word that was usually part of his vocabulary but right now, sitting in this restaurant in Nassau with Aubrey sitting across from him telling him a story about the absolute legend of an old woman who ran the local diner in Salvation and kept everyone in line with slices of unbelievably good pecan pie, he was. Sure, it could be because of the island breeze and that away-from-it-all bubble of being on a cruise, but it wasn’t. It was all Aubrey.
She stopped in the middle of a story about how Ruby Sue had fairy godmothered the Sweet triplets, who own a brewery in town, into their current relationships and shook her head.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve talked your ear off about people you don’t even know.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of beer. “I liked it.”
She blushed as she looked down at her lap, a smile tugging at her lips as if she couldn’t quite believe what he’d said, but he’d meant it. He liked listening to her talk, liked her laughter, liked the way her devious little mind worked when it came to pranks, liked how she was game for anything, and he loved the way she felt underneath him when she came. Now wasn’t the time to tell her because he didn’t want to sound like a creeper, but there was no way he was walking away from the possibility of being with her when the ship docked. He’d been on too many movie sets and been a part of too many relationships that happened because people were stuck in the same far-flung location not to realize it was different with Aubrey.
“Come on,” she said, getting up from her chair. “Let’s go see those steps.”
The walk from the restaurant to the Queen’s Staircase wasn’t far, but they got turned around a couple of times and ended up popping into a few souvenir shops and an art gallery. By the time they got to the staircase, it was practically deserted. Arm around Aubrey’s waist, tucking her close to him because not touching her seemed impossible, they listened to the local guide who explained that between 1793 and 1794, slaves carved sixty-six steps out of the limestone to provide direct access to Fort Fincastle. The staircase was renamed in the 1800s for Queen Victoria, who abolished slavery when she ascended to the throne. Looking at the walls, covered in tropical foliage and smoothed by time, the landmark of harsh beauty was as awe inspiring as it was painful to imagine the circumstances of its building.
Once the guide finished, Carter hung back at the bottom of the staircase to make a quick phone call while Aubrey made her way up the steps, pausing to take photos of the palm trees set against the steps and the waterfall about halfway up.
“I need a favor,” he said as soon as his brother answered the phone.
Byron harumphed. “I need my own private island.”
“You have a private island.” It was a short helicopter ride from where he stood right now.
“But I share it with you,” Byron said with an overdramatic sigh, playing up the poor-me melodrama that both of them knew he didn’t mean.
“What a hard fucking life you lead,” Carter said, laughing.
“So now that that is out of the way,” Byron said, going back to his normal business-first fast clip where each word came out quick because time was money. “What’s the favor?”
“Can you somehow arrange dinner with the captain for ten without alerting the cruise ship company that I’m who I am?” The way Aubrey’s shoulders had fallen and the expression of regret on her face back on the ship had eaten away at him all day. He hadn’t kidnapped her or anything, but she’d upended her plans for the cruise to help him and he needed to make that up to her.
“You making friends?”
“It’s Aubrey’s friends,” Carter said, watching as she leaned close to the staircase wall to capture a detail with her cell phone camera. “So Liv, Grace, Benjamin, and Kendall along with their plus-ones—and Aubrey and me, of course.”
“Aubrey?” Byron asked, his tone deceptively calm. “Her last name wouldn’t happen to be Dean, would it?”
Unease shot through him like a rocket blast, making him wince. Carter knew that tone. It was the same one his brother had used whenever he went into protective agent mode. The result was usually a lot of groveling and a couple of more million thrown his way by whoever had chosen poorly and crossed Byron Hayes.
“Yeah,” he said and then fought hard not to give in to the anxiety squeezing his lungs. “How did you know her last name?”
“Because I’m staring at a file containing her photo right now.”
That didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. “What’s going on, Byron?”
“She’s the person behind that damn Instagram account, the one who posted that you were on the cruise and nearly ruined everything—she still could.”
“No, it couldn’t be.” He glanced back at Aubrey. She smiled at him, her cell phone camera facing him, and waved. There wasn’t a flash, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t taken a photo. Had she been documenting their every move? Was that what she had to tell him before? “It’s gotta be a different person.”
“Yeah, that’s unlikely,” Byron scoffed. “Blond hair. Huge koi tattoo on her ribs? Looks like she’d melt if you put her in your mouth. Of course you’ve probably already done that and know for sure.”
His grip tightened on his phone until the corners ate into his palm. “Fuck you, Byron.”
