“I bet he’d like that,” Devin said. “He’s very proud of being one of the longest-serving employees on any ship, not just with Triton. But first… here’s the aft elevator, which goes up to the service area between the kitchens and the dining room.”
They weren’t the only people waiting for the elevator, and Devin seemed to know most of the staff, who were loaded down with boxes and bags they were ferrying up to the kitchens. There was a lot of good-natured banter, and the crew included Paul, asking how he was enjoying learning the operations of the ship. Paul didn’t have to feign enthusiasm when he said he was enjoying it a great deal. He was fascinated by how much teamwork was involved in running the ship and how the crew seemed to have their routines down so well they performed together like a well-oiled machine. He was also enjoying being on board the ship itself, and he’d already made a promise to himself that this wouldn’t be the last cruise he took.
When the elevator opened, Devin waited for the crew with burdens to get off, then led Paul into the dining room. The late dinner service was smaller than the main seating, and as diners cleared out from a section, burly crewmen removed the tables, and then the housekeeping crew descended on it with brooms and dustpans and cleaning cloths, wiping down every surface until it sparkled. The big round dining tables were rolled away, and smaller tables took their place, creating a more intimate arrangement. Crisp tablecloths in deep blue were deployed, and vases of fresh flowers—roses and orchids—were placed on each table.
“The buffet is one of the highlights of the cruise,” Devin told him. They were standing out of the way against one of the walls, and Devin pointed out the long tables being assembled along the aft windows. “Everything will be put on display, and people will be allowed to take photos before the buffet is opened. Did you see the ice-carving demonstration out on deck earlier? Those will be used as decorations on the buffet, and there will be a chocolate fountain and a champagne fountain. And this is only the first time on the cruise we’re doing this. There’s another one on next-to-last night of the cruise.”
“The ice-carving demonstration was amazing,” Paul said, although he’d been chagrined to realize one of the artists was creating a replica of the statue of Triton that was based on him. “Some of them seemed delicate, though. How do they transport the sculptures around the ship safely?”
“They’re taken down the elevator to a big walk-in freezer and stored until just before the buffet opens. They also use the freezer to make the big blocks for carving. I know there’s a trick to it, and they’re actually stronger than they look.” Devin chuckled. “I haven’t had time to learn the skill myself, but it’s on my bucket list. It would be awesome for when I open my own restaurant, though considering Texas, I’ll probably have to carve ice steers and footballs.”
“Don’t forget cowboy hats and boots,” Paul said, teasing Devin a little.
Devin smacked his forehead with one hand. “How could I have forgotten those? My cousins will shame me next time I’m home if they find out. Oh, look, they’re putting up the dance floor. I envy the merchant marine crew. The officers get to dance with the guests.”
“No shipboard romances for the rest of you?” Paul knew fraternizing with the guests was frowned on, but he also knew human nature, and he doubted the guidelines were enough to keep the employees and passengers from engaging in private mingling if they really wanted to.
“It happens,” Devin admitted. “Though not as often as you might think. I’ve had plenty of passes made at me. I think it’s a hazard of the job, being around people and alcohol. But I’ve never been tempted, and not just because most of the people issuing the invitations are women.”
“What would tempt you?” Paul asked, surprising himself with the bold question. Devin’s personal life was none of his business. The Rum Stumbler had to be to blame.
Devin didn’t seem to mind, and he looked at Paul directly. “Someone special,” he said. “Someone intelligent and kind and thoughtful. It would help if he was tall and sexy and liked to dance.”
Paul wasn’t conceited enough to think he met all those criteria, but he met a couple—but it didn’t matter because he had no business wondering if Devin could ever be tempted by him. Even if it weren’t a terrible idea because of the employer-employee aspect and because he was lying by omission, he wasn’t ready to think about getting involved with someone.
Although it was getting harder to remember that when Devin was around.
“Those sound like good criteria,” he said, unable to keep a husky note out of his voice as he gazed into Devin’s dark eyes.
“I like to think so,” Devin replied. “What about you, Paul?”
“As long as he doesn’t run away as soon as he finds out about my leg, he’ll be an improvement on the last one,” Paul said, smiling wryly. It was the first time he’d been able to joke about Jack, and he felt some of the cracks in his heart knitting together at last.
“The last one was obviously an idiot of enormous proportions,” Devin said, an edge of contempt to his tone. “Anyone one with eyes in their head can see you’re special. You’re well rid of someone who doesn’t value you for what you are.”
“You’re right,” Paul said simply. “I guess he was scared? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, really. He assumed I wouldn’t be able to do all the things we’d always done together, and he didn’t give me a chance to try. I don’t need anyone like that.”
“No, you don’t.” Devin drew in a deep breath. “Wow. I don’t get angry often, but I feel like I could punch your ex in the nose.” He smiled crookedly. “Are you ready to watch the preps in the kitchen now?”
If Jack ever showed up on Paul’s doorstep again, Paul thoughthemight punch Jack himself, which was new. But he’d been dejected long enough; he was overdue to move on to the anger phase.
“Definitely,” Paul said. He was looking forward to getting a sneak preview of all the dishes that would be served at the buffet. “Do you think I can talk the chef into letting me try the shrimp or scallops early if I promise to give a glowing report?”
Devin chuckled. “Who knows? Chef Michel isn’t a soft touch, but if you widen those eyes at him, he might take pity on you. I know I would.”
They entered the big main kitchen, which was a scene of organized mayhem. Paul had been in them before, of course, when Devin had given him a tour of the ship. Then, the area had been frenetic with activity for dinner service, but it was nothing like it was now. There were carts and trays of food in various stages of completion covering every flat surface, and white-jacketed sous chefs were rushing about in every direction. But even though the place resembled a madhouse, it was obvious that everyone knew exactly what they were doing, and there was a lot less noise than Paul expected.
“I suspect Chef Michel is overseeing the meats and seafood,” Devin murmured, his lips close to Paul’s ear. “Those are the hardest things to get perfect, given the time frame they have to work in.”
Devin’s warm breath ghosted along Paul’s skin, and he had to repress a shiver. Apparently his dormant libido was waking up, which didn’t bode well.
“Are we in the way?” Paul asked. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, and he didn’t want to mess that up.
“We’re fine. I really want you to see how the pastries are made. Those are by far the most impressive things on the buffet, and the chefs are true artists.” Devin linked his arm with Paul’s, giving him a playful grin. “Come on, this way to the goodies.”
“How can you be an artist with pastries?” Paul asked as he let himself be led away. Pastries seemed pretty straightforward to him.
“You’ll see,” Devin promised.
