With no job and no boyfriend, Justin sees no reason to make a big deal out of Christmas this year, so he plunks down his severance pay on a cottage in the Caribbean and jets away for some Me Time. Not that he'd mind a little Us Time, you understand, but the handsome young islanders of his acquaintance are all friendly, fun, and straight as they come. He sure didn't leave San Diego looking for any middle-aged American gym jock, but when one washes up at his favorite local watering hole, Justin discovers there are worse ways to dance the night away. Too bad the sexy stranger is on a cruise and the next port is calling.<br><br>When he spies the ship still in port while he tends to his Christmas Eve hangover, Justin knows he must manage his expectations. Just because the ship's still here doesn't mean the guy will come ashore, and so what if they do cross paths again? Did they really connect as Justin thinks he remembers, or is that just the beer filling in the blanks? He invents an errand, throws on some clothes, and heads for the dock, figuring there's one way to find out.

Isle Be Home for Christmas

We chat and sip and enjoy the shade of the patio as the sun summits the sky. The bar’s pretty bustling for a business that I’m pretty sure isn’t open. Family and friends come and go. Some sit and have coffee, others carry baskets or pink plastic shopping bags or cloth-draped pots straight to the kitchen. Carlotta has decided to go for the Miracle on 34thStreetholiday sound with the jukebox, occasionally plunking her balboa through the busted slot and releasing Perry Como, Kate Smith, and Bing Crosby into the sultry, snow-free air. Milton appears in his characteristic state of half-dress, his pants hanging low on his hips, his button down shirt done up to about his belly button. In the holiday spirit, he’s wearing a Peanuts-style striped knit cap that hangs down his back to a pom-pommed point near his waist. He hollers his hearty hellos as he breezes across the bar and swings through the kitchen door.


Chapter 8