Cruising With Miss Christmas (Cruisin’ With Curves)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

T he dishcloth pauses in mid-air as Lorenzo leans forward, his dark eyes gleaming.

“Did you hear the news about Bert?”

“Um, no. Who is Bert?”

Lorenzo shakes his head, “Sorry, forgive me, of course you don’t know Bert…er, Santa, from Santa’s grotto?”

I fix him with a hard look. “Much as I am thoroughly enjoying the Christmas festivities, I have not had occasion to make Santa’s acquaintance,” I grumble.

“Well, you certainly won’t be meeting him now,” says Lorenzo. He leans in conspiratorially. “Went to get his suit dry-cleaned at our last stop. Got drunk. Missed the sailing. Got left behind. Now on a plane home, I believe.”

“Wow, North Pole bound, is he? That’s pretty rough.”

“Captain runs a tight ship. And it, er, wasn’t the first time. Captain McClelland has sorted help out for him.”

“That’s good. That’s a tough situation.”

“Yup, but it does leave us somewhat short staffed in the Santa department. Do you think your, er, rescuer might, er, stand in?”

“You can ask him, if you want.”

Lorenzo shakes his head. “I’m not asking him!” He pauses for a moment. “Maybe Ben would do it...”

“Who is Ben?”

“The guy with the suit, from, er, yesterday…”

“Hmm.”

“Actually, I think he might still be lying in a darkened room after the, um, incident.”

There’s silence for a moment as Lorenzo bends to return the clean glasses to the shelves under the bar. But necessity clearly gets the better of him.

“You don’t think you might be better placed…” he ventures.

“No.”

Lorenzo’s eyebrows raise. “Trouble in paradise? I thought you two were…” He twines his first two fingers.

I sigh. “We are, well, kind of. He’s, er…”

“Moving too fast?”

“No. Exactly the opposite,” I grumble. “He’s very, er, mindful of my…virtue.”

“And you would prefer your virtue to be well and truly sullied?”

“Yes, to be honest. I thought…well, I used to think, that I wanted to….wait, you know, until I was married…”

“But…?”

“But now I know that he loves me.”

Lorenzo huffs. “Not that old chestnut.”

“It isn’t like that,” I protest.

“That’s what they all say.”

“No, Lorenzo, honestly. I’ve known him for years. He’s the one I…”

“Oh.” I watch as realisation dawns on Lorenzo’s face. “So he’s the one you…”

“Kissed, yes.”

“And ran away from?”

“Also yes.”

“I see. And now he is here.”

“Yes. My brother sent him to take me home.”

“Really? And are you going to go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not getting off this ship until we reach our destination. I’m loving it. And while I’m here, I’m not facing any family members who are less than pleased about my, er, sudden and, eh, private travel plans.”

“And the, um, ginger giant?” asks Lorenzo with a twinkle in his eye.

“Hector,” I chide.

“My apologies, Hector,” he corrects. “But the man is a mountain.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose.”

“He can stay onboard if he wants to, or he can fly home from the next stop. I don’t…”

“Oh, yes you do.”

“What?” I grumble, miffed by his interruption.

“Care. Don’t say you don’t care. You do. Do you love him?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“And does he love you too?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And how do you know?” asks Lorenzo. There’s no scepticism, no judgement on his face, just genuine curiosity.

“I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it when he touches me. Well…” I huff.

Lorenzo looks at me for a moment, his expression contemplative.

“Listen, Elspeth,” he says, reaching over the bar and taking my hands in his. “I work on a ship. I see thousands of different people each week. I know love when I see it. And I can see it in you. And in him.”

“What? I thought you thought…?”

“No harm in checking,” he says sagely. “Anyway, it pretty damn obvious.”

“Eh, how, exactly?”

“His expression when you went into that pool yesterday. I’ve never seen anything like it,” says Lorenzo with a whistle. “But,” he says, his voice lilting upwards, “The course of love never does run smoothly. Perhaps our Prince Charming just needs a little time to, um, process his feelings.”

I sigh. “Yeah, you are probably right.”

“And in the meantime,” he says, tapping his finger against his lips. “I know exactly what you need.”

My eyebrows raise.

“Not that,” he grumbles. “Well, maybe, but that’s not what I had in mind.”

He waggles his eyebrows in a faux suggestive manner. I roll my eyes.

“Anyway, my idea is way better…” he pouts.

“Way better, wow. Don’t worry about managing my expectation level or anything, Lorenzo.”

“Ah, my dear, we staff of the Infinity Voyager know how to satisfy our passengers…”

I sigh. “I’m all yours.”

“Excellent, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I turn my back to the bar and try to relax for a moment. My shoulders burn with pent up tension. Maybe I should go to the spa. Maybe that would help me unwind.

There’s nothing that will get Hector out of my mind.

I look out over the pool, ignoring the small shudder that rolls down my spine at the sight of the glistening water.

If I was in love with Hector before he rescued me from that pool, our time together as he supervised my recovery cemented him into the very fibre of my being.

We sat up until the small hours, chatting, reminiscing, recalling memories from our years together on Christmas Tree Farm. My grumpy mountain man made me tea, made me laugh, made me stay in bed until he was satisfied that I had not sustained any serious injury, made me eat the most delicious room service burger and fries ever.

Made me want him so bad that my insides ache.

And yet, when night came, he made himself a bed on the floor and bade me goodnight with a kiss on the forehead so chaste that it would have put a nun to shame.

I don’t understand it. I know he likes me. Loves me, even. I know he wants me. I can see it when he looks at me. I can feel it when he touches me. Yet there I was, in his bed, and he didn’t…

Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes. I scrub my hand across my face and take a deep breath. I will not cry over this. He said partners, but my brother is his best friend. If he can’t go through with it…if it is too much for him…if his relationship with my brother means more to him than I do, then that’s just how it will have to be.

I’ll move away, maybe get a job in the city. We don’t have to see each other. I couldn’t bear seeing him every day, trying not to feel what I feel for him, trying not to love him.

Christmas Tree Farm is all I’ve ever known. But I’d have to leave. I couldn’t bear it.

“Here we go,” Lorenzo’s voice is chipper as it breaks across my consciousness. He notices my jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he says as he places an enormous bright blue frozen drink on the bar in front of me.

“Wow, what’s this?” I marvel at the luminous concoction.

“Something to fuel your brain. Help you make good decisions.”

I run my finger down the ice-cold glass. “Have you just blended all the white spirits with blue food colouring?” I ask, almost hopefully.

He laughs. “No. It is virgin,” he responds, with a slight smirk.

“Funny,” I respond, pulling a face.

“You, my dear, need to have some fun,” he says slowly, resting his elbows on the bar. “And what better way to start than with a slushy.”

“A slushy!”

“Yes. I can’t think of a better accompaniment to serious life-choice decision making.”

“Mmm,” I reply sceptically. But as I take a long sip of the so-called brain aid, I get the feeling he might just be right.

“Well?” he asks.

“Delicious,” I confirm. “But if you want Hector to be Santa, you are still going to have to ask him yourself.”