12. The Heart at the Bottom
CHAPTER 12
the heart at the bottom
BELLE
" I can't believe I caught a fish!" I danced around, giddy, high on the accomplishment of catching my first fish. I held it up proudly, my very own yellowtail snapper, its scales flashing bright pink and yellow in the sunlight.
Mick laughed. "That's a good catch for a beginner, Belle! Yellowtails aren't easy."
"I actually did it! I thought I'd just get my line tangled or, I don't know, catch seaweed or something."
He watched me with that look of amused pride I was starting to love.
Franco put his arm around me. "We're eating well tonight."
Cato, Franco, Mick, and I made our way to the little restaurant down by the docks, arms loaded with our catch. Our booty was impressive for a day's work: three yellowtail snappers, two mutton snappers, and a grouper big enough to feed a small family on its own.
We definitely had enough fish for the four of us—and probably half the restaurant, too, according to Cato.
Franco nudged me as we walked, grinning. "You catch a yellowtail on your first go, Belle, and now you've got more dinner than we know what to do with."
Cato chuckled. "Hope you're ready for a feast."
We strolled up to the restaurant, a ramshackle beach shack with an open front and wide wooden beams wrapped in fairy lights. A few plastic tables and chairs sat scattered on the sand, and strings of shells hung from the rafters, clinking softly in the evening breeze.
Inside, the dim light bathed everything in warm shades of amber, flickering with candlelight and the deep green glow from the Bob Marley posters tacked along the walls. A reggae beat drifted from an old speaker in the corner.
I was introduced to Trina, the owner of the Driftwood Shack, a laid-back, beachside spot known for fresh-caught seafood, colorful cocktails, and a warm, easygoing vibe that keeps locals and tourists coming back.
Trina was a big girl with a laugh as large as her presence. She waved us in with a broad smile, her brightly patterned dress swaying as she pulled Franco and Mick into tight, affectionate hugs.
Cato was not a hugger. He high-fived her.
"Boys, look at yuh! Been too long, man!" Trina shook her head with mock disappointment. "Mick, yuh finally catch somethin' other than trouble, eh?" She gestured to the fish they'd brought, her grin approving.
" She caught a big one just for you, Trina." Mick patted my shoulder. "A yellow-tail."
"Hi, I'm Belle, the yellow-tail catcher." She shook my hand and guffawed.
She gave Mick an appraising look, then winked at me. "Well now, yuh lucky to be here, Belle. These boys, dey a handful, but good ones, ya know."
As we settled in, Trina took all our fish and disappeared into the back, leaving us to the cool evening air and each other's company.
Franco, half-sunken in his chair, cracked open a beer and tipped it in my direction. "How are you likin' our island, Belle?"
"I like it a lot," I admitted, looking around at the quiet beach, the dim glow of candles, and the scent of fresh fish cooking in Trina's kitchen. "It's a whole other universe from my life in Cambridge."
"Ain't that the joy of it." Cato knocked his beer bottle against mine.
"Cheers to that." Mick added his bottle to the mix, as did Franco.
"You fit right in, though," Franco mused. "Usually, we have women; they want to know where they can get their fancy wine and all that bullshit."
"I've heard you can get fancy wine and all that bullshit at La Mer Lunaire," I replied, lifting my chin with mock sophistication. "Or is that just a rumor?"
Franco snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, La Mer Lunaire is real alright—only the fanciest, priciest place around. Our man Mick here takes his…ah…more demanding women there." He gave Mick a sly look.
Mick rolled his eyes, brushing it off with a chuckle, but I felt a pang of something hot and uncomfortable flare in my chest. Jealousy? I had no right, of course. This was just a holiday fling. But the idea of Mick sitting across from someone else, charming her over wine and a candlelit table, didn't sit as well as I would've liked.
"Didn't take you for the fancy date type, Captain Mick,” I choked out the words, keeping my tone light.
Mick shot a look at me, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not."
"Yeah, right!" Franco snorted.
"He isn't fancy. He's driven ,” Cato explained .
"To get into fancy panties," Franco chortled.
I laughed with them, but the image of Mick all dressed up in something other than board shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops for a woman all sexy and dressed up lingered in the back of my mind. I could do dressed up, I thought and wondered if I'd been too easy for Mick, and that was why he hadn't had to impress me with a place like La Mer Lunaire.
"All that expensive wine is a sham, and I prefer the Driftwood Shack," Mick said dryly.
"We all do," Cato agreed.
"You should've seen Mick a few months back," Franco grinned, taking a swig of his beer. "Saved Trina's boy in this very place."
I raised an eyebrow. "Saved him?"
Cato leaned forward, a rare smile crossing his usually serious face. "Yep. Kiddo had a heart condition none of us knew about. Trina came out from the back one night, screaming that her son had collapsed. Mick was on him in an instant, like he knew exactly what to do. He got him stabilized, did CPR, and used the defibrillator we keep back here."
"Kept the kid breathing until help arrived," Franco chimed in.
I turned to Mick, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but under the spotlight. "Wow!"
He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyone would have done the same thing."
"Oh, mi nah think so," Trina called, coming out from the kitchen with a tray of appetizers, her eyes glinting with gratitude. "If it weren't for Mick here, mi boy wouldn't be here today. Save his life, mi tell yuh."
I glanced over at Mick, who was suddenly very interested in his beer's label. He was downplaying it, but it was clear that what he'd done meant a lot to everyone here. I smiled at him, feeling warmth for this man who kept amazing me .
"Guess you're full of surprises," I said softly, meeting his eyes.
Mick smiled back, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "What can I say? Ah am just a beach bum with good timing."
That night, we slept in a bed in Mick's hut.
"You date a lot back home?" he asked as he stroked my naked back absently.
We'd just made love, and I lay with my head on his shoulder, a leg thrown over his thighs. The post-coital intimacy wasn't new to me; but it was different with Mick because I was more emotionally involved than I'd ever been before. This man pushed all my buttons in the best way possible. I felt free with him, and I knew it wasn't just about being in Reef Harbor.
"Not a lot, but some."
"What does that mean?"
"If you give me your number of bedmates, I'll give you mine," I teased.
He slapped my ass gently. "That's not what I meant. I'm asking if you have someone special in your life."
"If I did, I wouldn't be in bed with you, Mick."
"I guess."
"What does that mean?"
He kissed my hair and nuzzled it with his chin. "My fiancée cheated on me, and it left me…and I know not everyone is like her, but it left me sore. But I know you aren't the type."
"Even though I lied about being engaged."
He laughed. "I had a feeling you were making that up."
I kissed his chest and then, because it was there, licked a nipple. "You date a lot?"
"I don't date."
"You have sex?"
"Yes. "
"And take women out to La Mer Lunaire for dinner?"
"Sometimes."
"Was I too easy?" I felt vulnerable.
He tipped my face up with a finger on my chin. "What did you say?"
"Was I too easy for you? Is that why you?—"
"Shut up," he snapped. "Don't talk about yourself like that. Sex is fun and nothing to be ashamed about. How come you don't ask if I was too easy?"
I licked my lips. "I…I don't usually do this."
"I do. Does that make me a bad person?"
“Of course not.” I sat up then and put a hand on his chest. "I…I'm being silly."
"No, you're conforming to the societal bullshit that glorifies men who fuck around but shames women for doing the same. I don't believe in judging either side. We're adults, having mutually consenting, fabulous sex. Why should anyone be judged for that?"
I'd never met a man like him. Never. He had a solid moral code. He believed in living life to the fullest.
"You're unique," I whispered. And I think I've fallen in love with you.
Fucking fuckity diddly doo!
"So are you, Babycakes." He smiled at me. "You're full of sunshine, positive, and…so passionate both in and out of bed. I feel like you feel everything a hundred times more than anyone else I know does."
"I've been told I'm too emotional."
"There you go again, judging yourself and saying it like it's a bad thing to be emotional. It's not. It means you're human." He tugged me down, and this time, I sprawled over him, his half-erect cock nestled between my legs.
I'd never had sex without a condom, but I was doing it with this man, this veritable stranger who I'd gone ahead and fallen hard for. I was a scientist. I didn't believe in love at first sight and all that bullshit. But now I had proof that it could happen because it happened to me. This man had turned me inside out.
"Will you think of me after I leave?" I asked, wanting at least that. I wanted to be special enough to be more than a notch on his bedpost…or hammock post.
"Why do you want to think about the future when the present is so delectable?" He pushed his hips against mine. "Ride me, Babycakes, let the rest go. We're here to live our lives, not constantly question the past or the future."
So, I did as he asked and took him inside me, letting the doubts and the fears fall away.