Chapter 39
Cocoa Reef Resort’s beach bar is becoming my second home. Even with Tabitha leaning across the polished wood, typing on her laptop, and photographing every damn cocktail Keston makes, I still feel as if I’m welcomed when I slide onto a stool and order one of Keston’s fabulous rum punches.
Mellow reggae tunes have me bopping my head and tapping my fingers on the tabletop.
Keston throws a kiss across the teak counter. I wave and throw a kiss back.
Mikah takes it all in. She doesn’t look like she’s relaxing though. Her eyebrows are scrunched up under her sunglasses. Her foot taps a fast beat against the wooden drum that serves as a table for our drinks. Her breathing is shallow like she’s exerting herself.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Do you think we’re still being followed?”
“There’s something fishy going on here,” she says.
I point out Tabitha and explain she’s Keston’s ex-girlfriend. “Maybe her?” I say, slurping the drink through my straw. “Probably her.”
Mikah shakes her head. She stirs her sparkling water with lime and leans on one beautiful hand to gaze around.
With the sunshine playing hide and seek, most of the tourists have bypassed the beach and settled in around the giant lima bean-shaped pool with its dark blue umbrellas and matching loungers, embroidered with the name of the resort.
Dex and another server named Kay run between the beach bar and the pool, carrying trays full of sunset-colored cocktails. A few guests are dancing in the sand.
“No. I mean something literally fishy.”
“Oh, the smell of fresh fish. Grilled tuna is on the menu today. It’s yummy. They serve it with a pineapple salsa from the pineapples in the resort garden.”
“Cool,” she says, dropping her shoulders. “Everything on this island is fresh. Right out of the ground or sea.”
Keston comes over with a big smile for us both. “Anything I can get you?”
I tap my glass. “This is better than usual. You’re upping your game, mister.”
He kisses the tip of my sunburned nose. “All for you, my dear.”
“There he is,” Mikah says, her breath catching in her throat as she gazes over my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for him to show himself.”
She puts a hand on my arm. I’m not sure if it’s to steady me or herself. I’ve never heard or seen Mikah breathless before.
Keston shifts his weight to encircle my shoulders and turns slowly. Almost as if he’s expecting danger.
“What’s going on over here?” asks a petulant voice. Tabitha slinks up to our table. Her eyes scan Mikah in a way I’ve seen other beautiful women size up Mikah, as if hoping to find faults but failing.
I’m so concerned about how to introduce Mikah to Tabitha that I don’t look to see who’s got Mikah’s undivided attention.
Until I hear a familiar low, slurry voice behind me.
“Hello, CJ. Can I talk to you?”
I gulp. Three other people at the table and Kelley Harris Kips is only focused on me.
Mikah stretches out a hand. “Hi, I’m Mikah. You are?”
A long silence ensues.
I stand up from the table, fortified by Keston’s strong rum punch. And by the desire to hear what Kelley Kips has to say.
“Hi.” I don’t deny knowing him this time. The cat is out of the bag.
I can feel Keston’s energy thrumming through him like a tiger waiting to pounce. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
“Why were you following us?” asks Mikah warmly, as if she’s happy to meet our stalker.
“You don’t have to answer their questions,” says Tabitha, standing protectively next to Kelley like a fine defense lawyer.
Except Kelley doesn’t want or need defending. He steps back. I am mindful of what Alex said earlier. That Kelley may be on the spectrum. I’m not sure how that manifests itself, except that he seems a bit lonely.
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s go over to one of the cabanas.” I pick up my backpack with Charlotte’s dairy in it. “Can my friend come too?” I indicate toward Mikah who is practically salivating. Since when did Mikah drool over anyone?
He waves his hand in a movement I interpret as, “Sure.”
“Don’t worry, Keston,” I whisper in what I hope is a reassuring manner. “It’s only about the diary I found at your house. I’ve been trying to decipher stuff in there.”
“I know what it’s about,” he says darkly. His eyes are as narrow as they can get without being closed.
I am aware he possesses an alpha protective gene, but this isn’t about being an alpha, or even about me really.
Keston harbors a deep wound where this man, who looks like him and who shares his last name, is concerned. A wound that is peeling itself open slowly and surely. I can feel his pain. I just don’t understand its source.
On an island where everyone knows everyone else’s business, they also keep each other’s secrets close to the vest.
Mikah leaps off her bar stool to follow me and Kelley.
“Should we go too?” I hear Tabitha asking Keston.
“No, I trust CJ to handle whatever it is.”
Pride and affection swell within me. That’s right baby. We’ve got each other’s backs.
“Plus, Mikah is going with her,” he says practically.
I deflate like a beach ball that’s been punctured.
Mikah links arms with me. “I’m in love,” she whispers. “For the first time in my life.”
I shake my head at her. “This is not the time for commentary, Mik. We’ve got some private business to attend to.”
Her laugh is happy and suspicious at the same time. If that’s possible.
“Private business or pirate business?” she asks. “Either way, love is always relevant. You said it yourself.”
I don’t answer because we’re arrived at the cabana and Kelley is waiting for us to enter.
I reach for the dairy and place it on the table. Kelley opens his beautifully woven messenger bag. It looks like something I can’t afford. One of those all-natural accessories that celebrities carry to look down to earth. How the heck did Kelley Kips purchase it? Has he already found the buried treasure? Is he rich?
I gulp. Don’t jump ahead of yourself, CJ.
He unwraps the book slowly, unwinding layers of the same beautiful rustic cloth to reveal an ancient dark leather book. The one I have is scuffed and creased. This one looks as if it’s been through a fire. Charred edges are visible, and it smells faintly of smoke and ash.
Who tried to burn the book?
“Is that the other diary?” I ask, softly.
“For you,” he says, pushing it toward me.
Part of me wants to grab it and turn the pages right away. Another part wonders at Kelley’s reason for giving it to me.
“Why me?” I ask.
He puts a rough-hewn finger on top the book. “It says so in there. When true love comes along, the diaries must be joined as one. It has been a long time and I’m waiting for true love to show itself.”
His one grey and one green eye look solemnly at me. Full of trust and something . . . virtuous or innocent. Almost otherworldly.
“True love?” I say, stalling. Is he talking about me and Keston? Or me and him? My heart thuds loudly. Better be me and Keston. I’m not about to divide two brothers, no matter how stunningly beautiful this one is.
In the silence, Mikah picks up a piece of the beige cloth the diary was wrapped in. “Excuse me. I am sorry to interrupt this book deal. But is this homemade all-natural woven hemp?” She handles the material as if it’s the pirate gold itself.
Kelley’s green and grey eyes turn bright and piercing like shards of glass. I wonder if he understands what she’s asking him. I’m not sure I understand what she’s asking.
“Did you make this cloth?” She presses.
He nods yes.
“How?”
“On my spinning wheel.”
Mikah looks like she’ll faint. “This is amazing. This is the softest, most tightly woven natural hemp I’ve seen. This would make great clothing.”
He points to his pants that I previously thought were linen.
“You wove the hemp for this pair of pants?” Mikah asks. “Can I . . . touch them?”
Kelley stands up and pulls off his pants and hands them to Mikah. He is stark naked underneath.
“Guess they don’t make hemp undies,” I whisper from behind my hand.
Mikah is speechless.
Not that I’m staring or anything, but from the size of Kelley’s well-endowed member, he is definitely related to Keston. In fact, if I peek a little further, I’d say they were twins.
Mikah’s tongue is hanging out.
I reach over and close her mouth.
She silently hands Kelley back his pants. “They are very nice pants,” she manages to say.
“Thank you. I learned how to make hemp clothing from my grandfather. If you want, you can come to my farm. I’ll show you how. It’s on the other side of the island. My name is Kelley Kips. You will see a sign.”
“Yes, please,” Mikah nods her head hard.
To me she whispers, “I may never come back.”