CHAPTER 19
KATIE
With one eye on the bathroom door and my keen ears listening to the running water signalling a showering Nathan, I rummage through the drawers where all my clothes have been unpacked and neatly stowed by the lovely Giselle, whose main purpose during these last couple of days has been to make my life easier.
Needless to say, I love her.
“What to wear? What to wear?” I murmur, flicking through one outfit after the next. They’re all figure-hugging, and I’m perplexed by how that happened. Rosie must have done some magical sleight of hand during our shopping excursion. “Ah, this may work.”
My hand stops on the one item of clothing I actually owned before Nathan stormed back into my life and purchased a new wardrobe for me.
It’s my favourite t-shirt. Merle grey, threadbare soft from many, many washes, with the red King’s College logo printed in the top right-hand corner.
I’m not sure what was running through my mind when I added this to my suitcase at the last minute, but slipping it over my head and pairing it with a simple pair of denim shorts and my white Reebok runners, I’m more myself than I have been since entering that first-class lounge three days ago.
“So, you just look incredible in everything, then?” Nathan’s soft musing tears me away from where I’m staring out at the water. I turn to watch him walk towards me. And talk about incredible. The man makes a simple pair of shorts and a polo shirt look positively sinful.
“Um?” I fiddle with the edge of my shorts, wishing that, despite their name, they were a little bit longer. “Given the scarcity of information about today’s activities, I’m flying blind here. I hope this is okay?”
His eyes crinkle, and his dimple flashes. “It’s perfect.” He looks at his watch. “We’d better get going.”
I grab my Gucci tote (so, not one hundred per cent pre-Nathan-Katie, but now that I own it, you’ll have to pry this bag out of my cold, dead hands) and follow behind him.
We hurry along the jetty towards the reception area, my feet dragging as we bypass the gorgeous restaurant hosting the even more gorgeous breakfast buffet.
“Believe me, Kitty Kat,” Nathan says, his gaze following mine. “You won’t want to indulge in that today.”
I sigh with a touch of longing and follow behind him. I trust he knows what he’s doing by denying me the breakfast feast I crave. And also, there’s always tomorrow.
“Let’s go!”
Nathan’s excitement is infectious, and I follow along beside him, easily keeping up in my trusty shoes. We jump in the waiting golf buggy, and as we bump along the winding roads, my stomach gurgles an unhappy sound. I pat it to keep it in line.
“Not too long to wait now,” Nathan whispers to my belly. I giggle at the absurdity of this big man placating my noisy organs.
“So, I’m guessing it’s something with food?”
His eyes twinkle back at me as he mimes zipping his lips.
I tear my gaze away from his animated (beautiful) face and take in my surroundings.
St. Lucia, as I had imagined, is dazzling from every angle.
Even now, as we move away from the ocean vista and further inland, the lush tropical landscape steals my breath.
And for the millionth time since we got here, I say a quiet thanks to my mum for urging me to agree to this crazy scheme that has me so out of my comfort zone, but also has brought me to exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“We’re here.”
‘Here’ is the Doux Estate.
Huh. Still unclear what we’re doing here.
“Trust me.”
I take his offered hand and jump out of the buggy, walking beside him and taking it all in. Has he brought me to another hotel to eat? I’m about to ask this when I see it. The sign up ahead of us.
Chocolat.
“You brought me to a hotel made of chocolate?”
“Not quite,” Nathan chuckles. I blush, annoyed that I’d asked that stupid question out loud. “This is what we’re doing.”
I look closer at the large sign in front of us, bubbles of excitement taking over my hungry stomach.
Chocolate Tree to Bar Tour.
“We’re making chocolate bars!” he announces with a delighted laugh.
“We are?”
My eyes dart from here to there. We’re standing in the foyer area of an exclusive-looking hotel, nestled in the rainforest, surrounded by what I now see are cacao groves.
“I’ve died and gone to chocolate heaven.”
A petite woman with spiral curls steps forward and introduces herself as Brigette, our tour guide for the morning. Biting back my squeal of pleasure, I fall into place beside her, leaving Nathan to trail behind us.
“Tell me everything,” I gush. And so, she does.
For the next two hours, we are guided through the cacao groves, while Brigette teaches us about sustainable cacao-growing.
Along the way, she shows us how to graft a cacao tree and allows us to taste cacao pulp from a freshly cut pod.
I soak it all in, wishing I’d brought along my trusty travel journal so I could take notes.
It’s the sort of experience I want to capture on paper.
“And now it’s your turn to craft your own chocolate bar,” Brigette concludes the guided tour with the best sentence I’ve ever heard.
“Thank you so much.” I shake her hand and squeeze with gratitude for the little slice of heaven she just shared with us. “This has been a wonderful experience.”
She beams back at me. “It was my pleasure. And now I’ll leave you with our expert chocolatier, Francois, who will show you how to make the chocolate bar of your dreams.”
“You should see your face right now,” Nathan murmurs in my ear. For the entire tour, while I was listening and learning, he was standing close beside me. His eyes never straying from my face.
I wave one last time to Brigette and then crane my neck to gaze up at him. “This is perfect, Nathan. Thank you for bringing me here.”
The amusement in his eyes fades as he zeros in on my mouth. In slow motion, his face lowers closer to mine until there is nothing in between us. I hold my breath, and he softly brushes his lips over mine, offering a small sample of the kisses we’ve shared, before pulling back.
“I’m happy you’re happy.”
In a daze, I wrench my gaze from him and turn to where a smiling Francois is waiting to teach us how to make chocolate from scratch. It’s like Nathan designed the entire day to hit all my pleasure centres: learning new things, chocolate, and time with him.
“Shall we?” Francois asks.
I step towards him with an eager nod. “Let’s go.”
Thirty minutes and many, many chocolate samples later, Francois (my newest best friend—sorry Jade) takes our individually crafted bars of chocolate away to set, while Nathan and I find ourselves an alcove, out of the way, to relax.
“How long until we get to eat it, again?” I ask, peering around the corner in the direction of the long-gone Francois and my lusted-after chocolates.
Nathan leans back, his arm stretched out along the seat behind me, almost but not quite touching me. “He just left, Kitty Kat. Give the chocolate time to set.”
I sink back, fighting a pout. Sure, we’d sampled some (okay, many) chocolates while making our own, but my stomach wants more.
“And in the meantime,” he continues, like he’s reading my mind. “We can indulge in these.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth, like magic, a tray of desserts appears on the table in front of us, along with two tall, frosted glasses.
“Our signature iced hot chocolate,” the server tells us with a shy smile. “Enjoy.”
“That’s quite the oxymoron,” I mutter as she leaves, drawing in a long sip through my straw and almost expiring from the flavour explosion on my tongue. “Ohmigosh, Nathan. This is amazing!”
I suck down another mouthful while he chuckles, watching me drink in favour of drinking himself.
“Try it,” I urge through my third—and final—sip. Boo, it’s over. “You’ve never tasted anything better.”
He does as I say, taking a large gulp and offering me the rest like the true hero he is.
“Thanks.” I greedily accept his glass and try to slow down. If I’m not careful, his share will be gone as fast as mine was. “Why have I never had iced hot chocolate before?” I muse, eyeing the desserts laid out in front of us. All made from chocolate. All drool-worthy.
Nathan loads up a plate and hands it to me, before turning back and filling another for himself. “Maybe because it’s just an iced chocolate?”
I shake my head, an emphatic no. “This is not that. This is…more.”
“The way you’re looking at that drink, you’re making me jealous.”
“You should be,” I joke, placing down my empty glass and sampling from the pile of treats on my plate. Oooh, so delicious.
He clears his throat, his eyes watching me lick my fingers like it’s his job. “So, was this worth forgoing the planned itinerary?”
I nod, the motion causing my hair tie to snap and my blanket of hair to fall down around my shoulders. It’s such a common occurrence, I’m surprised my ponytail has lasted this long.
“Not now, hair,” I groan, reluctantly putting my plate down and hunting around for another hair tie. In my haste to change outfits this morning, I’d forgotten to add the mandatory spare one to my wrist, and now, with my Gucci bag also coming up empty, I’m royally out of luck.
“Here.”
I pop my head out of my tote and frown at the hair tie he’s waving in front of me. “What? How?”
His cheeks heat, and he runs a hand through his blond locks. “You always seem to need one.”
Confused, I look between the band in his hand and the wrist next to his face. There, snuggled up next to his watch, is a hair tie.
He’s keeping a stash of spare hair ties for me? Because he’s noticed how often I need them?
“What—?” I stutter again, my eyes stuck on his wrist. It’s almost too sweet to compute. Who does that?
He waves the hair tie at me again, glancing off to the side and away from me. “Take it.”