“It is,” Grey assured her with as smile, her attention shifting from Lauren to the waiter who stopped beside their table.
“Welcome to Pusser’s Landing. My name is Jameson, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Two Painkillers,” Grey ordered for them both. “And can we get an order of conch fritters?”
Jameson nodded as he scribbled their order on his notepad. “Of course. Would you like to order your entrees now as well?”
Lauren shook her head and did not bother to look up as she said, “I need another minute.”
“Not a problem,” Jameson assured her with a smile as he backed away to place their drink order and appetizer orders.
Grey rested her elbows on the edge of the table and perched her chin on her folded hands. Not wanting to make Lauren feel self-conscious, she pretended to look out over the harbor even though she was really watching Lauren read through the menu out of the corner of her eye. It was like watching a silent play. Lauren would silently mouth an occasional word or phrase that caught her attention, and then her forehead would either crinkle in disgust, or a look of pure surprise would light her face as she nodded in agreement with what she was reading. The longer Grey watched Lauren, the more she wished she knew which of the restaurant’s dishes elicited each reaction, and she felt almost disappointed when Lauren finished reading and set the folded menu onto the table beside her.
Island service is habitually slow, and tonight was no different, so by the time Jameson returned with their drinks, Lauren had long since finished studying the menu. She waved a hand at Grey to go ahead and order first as she skimmed the menu one last time, before going ahead and ordering the jerk chicken salad as well. She smiled at the surprised look Grey gave her as their waiter disappeared. “I just figured that it has to be good if you order it every time.”
“No, it is. I was just thinking that you’d want something more island-y.”
“The menu has burgers on it, Grey,” Lauren said, her voice tinged with laughter. “I don’t think a chain restaurant whose menuconsists of burgers, pub grub, and Anglicized fish dishes is the place to expect quality Caribbean fare.”
“Not really, no,” Grey agreed, chuckling as she reached for her drink. “We’ll have a few days off before the next cruise because it’s only a five-day charter. I’ll take you to a couple of local spots on Saint Thomas that have some awesome island food. Sound good?”
Lauren smiled and reached out to run a finger around the rim of her glass, catching a few flecks of nutmeg on the pad of her index finger. “That sounds great.” She put her finger in her mouth, curious as to whether or not the bar used freshly ground nutmeg on the drinks. She was pleased to see that they did, and she hummed approvingly as she wiped her finger dry on her napkin. “Is there a reason the next charter is only five days?”
It was clear from the look on Lauren’s face that she had not meant for the whole sucking-her-finger-clean thing to be a tease, that it was just a matter of her tasting an ingredient in the drink, but knowing that did not lessen Grey’s reaction to it. Her mouth was suddenly dry—impossibly, been-walking-through-a-desert-for-weeks-with-nothing-to-drink dry—and she could swear that a heater somewhere nearby had been turned on high. Her expression must have shown some of her discomfort because Lauren was looking at her inquiringly, and she shook her head as she took a generous swallow of her drink, hoping that the blended ice would help keep her face from flushing. “What?”
“I said, is there a reason the next charter is only five days?”
“Right,” Grey drawled, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “Um, probably the cost. A five-day cruise is not a lot cheaper than the eight, but there is a little bit of a break.”
“Makes sense.” Lauren picked up her drink and took a tentative sip. The Painkiller was not nearly as creamy as a Piña Colada, but the orange juice really carried the flavors of the drink well. “Not bad.” She nodded thoughtfully to herself as she set herglass back down on the table. “So, will it be a shorter version of the cruise we’re on now, then?”
“Pretty much. Unless the client requests certain stops, or is someone I’ve taken out before, I usually stick to the same general itinerary.”
Lauren leaned back in her chair and tucked her hair behind her ears as she looked around the dining room. “So, I gotta ask, what, exactly, is a ‘Pusser’? Please tell me it’s not island slang for a certain part of the female anatomy.”
Grey laughed and shook her head. “It’s not,” she said as she picked up her drink and leaned back in her chair, mimicking Lauren’s posture. “Although, that would be pretty awesome. But, no. Pusser is actually slang in the Royal Navy for purser, which would now be called the ship’s supply officer. The Pusser was in charge of handing out supplies to the men, including rations of rum, so the rum rations became known as ‘Pusser’s rum’.”
“So the Royal Navy sells rum?” Lauren asked, arching a brow in surprise as she reached for her glass again.
“No. They used to produce it to ration out to their sailors, but that stopped in… I want to say 1970.”
Lauren sipped at her drink and grinned. “That couldn’t have been a very popular decision.”
“Probably not,” Grey agreed with a nod. She looked up at their waiter, who was carrying a plate of conch fritters.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” Jameson asked as he set the appetizer plate in the center of the table.
Grey arched a questioning brow at Lauren and, when she shook her head, said, “I think we’re good for now, thanks.”
Lauren dipped the tip of her fork into the sauce that came with the fritters to taste it. “That’s actually pretty good.”
“It’s better on the conch than a fork,” Grey teased, waving a hand at the plate. “I got these for us to share. Go for it. Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” Lauren picked up one of the smaller fritters from the plate. She dipped it in the sauce and took a tentative bite. The beer batter was amazing, though she had expected as much considering they were in the British Virgin Islands, and the conch meat was perfectly sweet. “This is really good.”
“I know, right?” Grey said, finally putting her drink down and reaching for a fritter. “Pusser’s does some awesome bar food.”
Lauren spun her fritter around in her hand to dip the side she hadn’t eaten off of into the sauce. “So why didn’t we just sit downstairs?”
