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Keep safe and happy travels!
XOXO ~ Trixie
After a quick run to the Blue Water Café, where I chose to forgo my usual fare and enjoyed a custom omelet brimming with sausages, bacon, chives, peppers, and handfuls of glorious cheese, I hightailed it to the formal dining room to meet up with Bess and Nettie to discuss our itinerary for the day.
Ransom let me know last night at dinner that he had an entire roster of minuscule legal nuances that would tie him up for the day but hinted of steamy things to come for the two of us, right here on the Big Island.
Steamy was the actual word he used, which sent up a red flag for me for more than one reason. First, that’s not a word I’ve ever heard Ransom use before in any connotation. And secondly, it conjured up all sorts of steamy visuals—concerning the two of us, of course.
Those red lace naughty accouterments that Elodie gifted me run through my mind.
“Do you think this is it? Is Ransom ready to take things to the next steamy level with me?” I ask Bess and Nettie as I fall into a peach velvet chair across from them and make my steamy thoughts known. Okay, so I may have inadvertently inquired of a certain fiery-haired wooden boy by proxy as well, but that’s only because he seems to have permanently taken over Nettie Butterworth’s left arm.
“He was certainly implying something,” Bess says, putting down her menu, a sure signal that lets our waiter know we’re ready to put in our order. Bess has donned a blue and white checkered blouse and paired it with denim capris. Bess rarely, if ever, wears shorts because she’s not a fan of the sun, but she has a collection of sunhats with three-foot brims, so she’s essentially in the shade at all given times.
“Oh yeah, something deliciously steamy is afoot.” Nettie moans with delight, and that gray bun sitting on her head wobbles like an unstable bird’s nest. She has on a red and white floral muumuu and looks a little like a walking, talking distress signal—not a far cry from the truth. “He was trying to tell you something, all right.”
Sparky, the dummy among us, leans my way with that perma-grin frozen on his wooden face. “And I know exactly what he was trying to tell you.”
Bess moans, “Do not prod her—him, Trixie.”
But I choose to ignore the warning.
“Enlighten us.” I flick my fingers at Nettie for her to make haste with it, too.
Sparky jerks his creepy little head my way. “The Big Island is the exact locale where he’s about to gift you something equally as big—himself.”
My mouth falls open.
“I warned you not to prod it.” Bess shrugs. “Now you’re going to have something big stuck inside your head all day long.”
Nettie nods. “And if she’s lucky, she’ll have something big stuck inside another part of her all night long.”
“I bet it’s wooden,” Sparky adds with far too much glee.
“Oh, for the love of humanity,” Bess groans hard as she nabs a waiter and we quickly put in our orders.
Eggs benedict all around, with an addition of oatmeal for Bess, a lobster tail for Nettie, and an order of red velvet pancakes for me.
Nettie shakes her head at her bestie. “What kind of a loon orders oatmeal on a cruise ship?”
“The kind that already indulged in a pineapple muffin at Sea Beans,” Bess tells her. “And also the kind of loon that hangs out with another loon who orders a lobster tail for breakfast.” She turns to me. “The only reason they’re willing to give her a dinner item at breakfast is because she tips extra—in cash.”
“The lobster is for you-know-who.” Nettie knocks her head to Sparky’s before leaning toward Bess. “And speaking of which, your wallet is running low on the green stuff.”
Bess balks, “I knew it. I knew you’ve been dipping into my cookie jar.”
“Who cares about your cookie jar?” Nettie says. “I’m more interested in who’s going to be dipping into Trixie’s cookie jar tonight. Or should I say nookie jar?” She waggles her brows with the innuendo.
My mouth opens to say something just as a spray of tiny blue stars erupts above the seat that Ransom traditionally sits in, and sure enough, his look-alike materializes with a hedonistic smile twitching on his lips.
And just like that, our morning got a little more interesting.
CHAPTER 17
“Good morning, beautiful. I hear there’s a cookie jar that’s looking to be looted. I’m here to volunteer for the effort,” Phineas George says with a wicked grin, right here in the formal dining room as we wait for our breakfast to arrive.
“Keep dreaming, soul boy.” I hold out my hands to Bess and Nettie. “Phineas the far-too-friendly ghost is here, floating in Ransom’s chair.” I flick my fingers and they both latch onto me.
