There’s so much food to choose from it’s hard to not overdo it. I fill a plate with mahi-mahi with a mango salsa, coconut shrimp, and triangles of what look like polenta with melted cheese on them called funchi. I take a sample of fried plantains and add some salad.
Owen’s in his seat before me. “Holy shit,” I say, eyeing his plate as I sit. “Are you going to eat all that?”
“I sure am.” He digs into a beef stew, scooping up sauce with the bread called pan bati. “I’ve got lots of time to lose weight if I need to.”
“I doubt you need to lose weight ever.”
“He does not,” Igor confirms. “Me, I put on weight when I look at food.”
“He loves sweets.” Nadia pinches Igor’s waist. “Did you look at desserts?”
“Yes.” He grins.
Sara and Josh appear with Jamal, and soon we’re all eating. Owen gets wine for me and even a glass for himself!
“You will be drunk tonight,” Nadia teases him.
“Could be.” He grins.
“Try this,” Jamal says to Brandon.
“What is it?”
“Siboyo tempera. Try it on your fish.”
“But what is it?” Brandon looks suspiciously at Jamal’s plate.
“It’s made from onions and peppers.”
“Haha, is hot!” Nadia says. “Be careful.”
“It’s not that spicy,” Jamal says, eyes gleaming.
“I’ll try it,” Owen says casually.
My eyes widen. I have a feeling it is five alarm hot. “Are you sure?”’
“I like things spicy.”
“Ha. Good to know.”
He laughs.
Brandon forks some up and pops it in his mouth. Two seconds later his eyes bug out and sweat appears on his forehead. “Jesus!” he wheezes.
Owen tastes it, too. He swallows and nods. “Yeah, that has a bit of heat.”
“A bit of heat!” Brandon croaks.
“It’s made with Madame Janette peppers,” Jamal says. “They’re like a habañero.”
“Christ,” Brandon gasps, grabbing a glass of water.
“No, no, drink beer!” Nadia shoves his glass at him. “Is better.”
He downs his beer, then shakes his head, his face red. “Asshole.” He glares at Jamal. “You know I can’t handle spicy foods.”
Jamal chortles. “But it’s delicious!”
“It is good,” Owen says, grinning.
“Now I want to try it,” I say.
“Are you used to hot things?” Owen asks me.
I smile. “Not until I met you, O.”
“Ha. Good one.”
“I like things spicy, too.” I toss my hair back and pick up a fork.
“You two are so cute,” Nadia says.
Cute? Uh… I glance at Owen, my eyebrows lifted.
He shrugs.
I taste a tiny bit of the siboyo tempera. I do like hot spices, but I’m also a little nervous, given Brandon’s reaction. The burn takes a few seconds to develop, but Owen’s right—it is delicious. “I like it!”
“I’ll probably have heartburn,” Brandon complains, rubbing his chest.
“You’re such a drama queen.” Jamal rolls his eyes. “Just remember—if you hook up with some chick tonight, don’t go down on her.”
I burst out laughing.
“If I hook up with some chick tonight, you’re sleeping on the beach,” Brandon replies, wiping sweat off his forehead.
Jamal shrugs. “I figured that would happen at some point.”
I don’t really have room for dessert, but I manage to try some pan bollo, a bread pudding made with Ponche Crema liqueur and served with ice cream. “I can taste the booze in this,” I comment. “But yum!”
After dinner we meander down the path to the stage area where there will be entertainment starting shortly. We laugh at a comedian, dance to the live band, attempting badly to salsa. Then there’s a karaoke contest. The entertainment team goes table to table trying to get people to sign up.
“Do it,” Owen says to me.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Oh, come on,” he cajoles.
I’d love to sing. Should I? I bite my lip and look around.
“You’ll be great,” Owen says softly. “You want to sing. I can tell.”
He’s right.
“Do it for me. I love hearing you sing.”
Oh my God. As if I can resist that. “Gah. Okay.”
And I sign up.
Looking over the song selections, I purse my lips. Hmmm. I know my voice and I’m not going to sing a Beyoncé song. Finally, I make my choice.
“You are brave,” Nadia says. “Igor, pupsick, sing with me.”
He snorts. “No.”
I turn big eyes to Owen and mouth “pupsick?”
“It means baby,” he whispers.
“Come on. Pozhaluysta?” She bats her eyelashes.
He sighs. “Okay.”
We watch a few people sing—one man sings “Sweet Caroline” and gets the audience singing with him, laughing. A couple sings “Up Where We Belong” really badly, but they’re laughing as much as anyone. Igor and Nadia get up and sing “Empire State of Mind” and damn, they’re good. Not necessarily the best singers, but they dance and give it their all and put on a good show.
We all clap and cheer them on, a couple of guys whistling for them, and they return to the table laughing and flushed, taking bows.
One more singer, then it’s my turn. I make my way onto the stage and take the mic. This is familiar to me, but in a weird setting. I’ll just pretend I’m in Penn Station.
My song starts, slow and sensual, and I move to the seductive beat. This is not what I would sing in the subway. I launch into the lyrics, soft and low, then hit it hard. “Damn! I wish I was your lover.”
I hear the burst of applause from our table. Or maybe more than just that table, as people perk up and pay attention. I love Sophie B. Hawkins. I have to dance to the song as I sing, and I hold the long note on the word “ever…” drawing it out…and out…and out. That earns me more applause. I catch my breath before starting the third verse. I seek out Owen in the crowd and find him, his gaze riveted on me, and I sing to him, the words raw and vulnerable. I feel them in my chest.
I drop my head when I finish, the applause gratifying. With a smile I hand the mic back to the emcee and return to the table.
Owen’s still clapping, watching me with blazing eyes and a proud smile.
“Holy shit!” I’m greeted with. Also, “You can sing!” and “That was amazing!”
I smile, my face hot, and take my seat. Owen’s gaze burns into me, but I can’t look at him. There’s a tension vibrating off him that I can feel on my arm closest to him. He leans closer and says in my ear, “I can’t take any more of this. We’re going to be hot and naked and all over each other in about two minutes.”
14
Owen
Emerie shivers even though I feel like there’s a bonfire burning right next to us. She turns her head and meets my eyes, so close I can see every one of her eyelashes, all the pale gold freckles that appeared on her snub nose today, the smooth texture of her skin.