“Guys, what’s the problem?” Even Danny looks reluctant, so I say, “It’s lobster risotto! And pan-seared bacon-wrapped scallops with a fresh herb sauce!”
Finally, Matteo pipes up, “Seafood is not usually had in Wake. Is beautiful idea, but…have not had since I come here. In Italy, of course. But not now.”
Oh fuck. Risotto. I have got to stop cooking Italian food for him! No wonder he’s skeptical.
“Lobster has always scared me,” Mary Ann says as she tries not to recoil.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve never had seafood that isn’t gross,” Jackson says.
“Where did you…get this?” Danny asks. “No place near here sells seafood.”
“I bought it off some dude selling black-market ocean items from his trench coat. What do you think? I ordered it. Had it shipped in dry ice from Legal Sea Foods out of Boston. It’s perfectly fresh and safe to eat.” I fold my arms. “I slaved over this. Eat!”
I wish I could walk away, but instead, I glare at them. “If you hate it, I’ll buy us pizza tonight and two rounds of shots next time we’re at the bar. Deal?”
They all agree, and I’m vindicated as they start tasting and are all soon eating with clear enthusiasm.
“I had no idea it could be like this,” Jackson says.
“Give me all the seafood. Now.” It seems Mary Ann is a convert too.
“If I’d eaten faster, maybe I could’ve eaten everyone else’s shares, but Callie had to get all forceful,” Slow says. “But, hey, Mary Ann? Maybe next time we go to Boston, you’ll try sushi?”
“Okay, one step at a time, big guy.” But she reaches her arm over his shoulders and pulls him in. “But maybe.”
“Isperfecto! Rice has a bite still, is not mushy. Is creamy. Is cooked with love.” Matteo basically blesses my dish.
Danny grabs my hand. “Only you could make me fall in love with seafood. Nicely done.”
When my happy guests leave, Danny and I—for once—finally watch the polar bear cam for a long time while snuggled in bed.
“Look at this guy,” he muses. “Rolling around in the ice mound. He’s so damn happy. Oh, and this bear! Diving and swimming and gnawing on…what is that they’re eating? Lettuce?”
“I think it’s…bok choy?” I guess. “Look at the enclosure. It’s like a produce massacre.”
“Did you know that polar bears aren’t really white?” He rolls onto his side, all lit up with excitement. “It looks like it, but their skin is black, and their fur is not like regular animal fur, like Shallots’s. The top layer is actually clear, hollow tubes that repel water. When the sun hits them, the light bounces around and makes it look like white. Or something like that.” He laughs. “I’m not really a science guy, but that’s how I understand it. It’s kind of an optical illusion. But it’s all about them being able to camouflage in the snow so that they can hunt.”
“Okay, you’re officially more into this than I knew, but I dig it.”
His geeky bear talk is endearing and somehow turning me on, but before I can make a move, he sits up.
“Wait a minute.” Danny grabs me and holds me down as he realizes something. “These live cams? Someone is operating them. Changing angles, zooming in, following the bears. Like, wait! This is an actual job!”
Holy hell, he’s right.
“Seems so. A dream job. Spending your day tracking these bears?”
He hands me my glass of wine from the nightstand. “It’s worth investigating.”
“You want me to move back to California?” I joke.
“Shit, girl, never.” He grabs his glass and clinks against mine. “Pretty sure this could be done remotely though. They’re obviously just mounted cameras that some lucky person gets to be in charge of.”
So, we watch more. And then we make love more.
Text alerts go off on both of our phones.
Danny rolls over and sighs. “Paul is telling us to meet him on your front lawn at eight tomorrow morning. It’s only Friday, and I thought we were off until Monday. Guess our week off is over.”
