Billy's Baby - Annie J. Rose Page 0,4

hike with the woman with the appealing voice and the adventurous attitude. I was looking forward to it. It was the trail I hiked on my own when I had free time. It had been a few months since I’d gotten over that way, and it would be nice to check it out again.

“Mick, I got a private full-day hike on the back trails day on Thursday. You free to play medic?”

“No. Lucas has his well-child appointment. Karin and I have a naughty bet about what he weighs and if I don’t go with them she’ll falsify the forms to get what she wants.”

“That was too much information, man,” I said with a grimace.

“You’ll have to do double duty and bandage any boo-boos yourself,” he said.

I shrugged. An entire day in the forest sounded great, and alone with the woman who had that voice? Not a problem.

Chapter 3

Morgan

Say what you will about tourist areas, but the frozen lemonade was to die for. I was overheated from walking on the beach in the heat of the scorching day and checking out the local food along the boardwalk. I munched crispy calamari out of a newspaper cone and sat at a small table with my huge frozen lemonade. I settled in under the shade of the umbrella and took out my phone. I looked at my itinerary so far. And I was looking forward to my hike tomorrow with that hot-sounding guy I’d called. Today I wanted to check out surf options. Ever since I’d learned out in California on a trip in high school, I’d loved it, and I liked to go out when I could. I checked for local businesses and found one named O’Shea’s. It had lots of good reviews and the same name as the hiking company. I wondered if it was the same guy.

I called and set up a time to rent a surfboard the next day. I double-checked the hours for the bird sanctuary and looked up the tours at a rum distillery, too. I wanted to take in as much local color as I could. I drank my lemonade and went back to the hotel for a swim and to work on my article. It was mostly a stream of consciousness of observations so far. I hadn’t really found a central focus yet.

The cool water in the hotel swimming pool felt amazing. And after a piña colada, I was ready to go back out exploring. The resort did have its perks, like the delicious drinks and the convenient location for a lot of the tourist activities. I stopped at a junky looking t-shirt shop and got a shell anklet for Maggie. I put it on, took a picture and sent it to her with the caption, “This baby is coming home to you!” She replied with a heart-eyed emoji and ‘gimme it!’ I laughed as I stopped in a few more shops with cheesy painted coconuts and lamps covered in seashells and gaudy brass jewelry. I kind of wanted a ruby-red sarong I saw, but I decided it wasn’t something I’d wear except with a bathing suit. And I wasn’t hung up on my body image, so I didn’t usually wear a cover-up. I just went to the pool or beach in my swimsuit and flip flops, and anyone who saw a curve or a stretch mark they didn’t like could turn the other way.

I was getting hungry, and I wanted something besides the fried stuff at the snack shacks. I wandered past seafood places and a couple of chain restaurants. But I was not the kind of girl who was looking for a Subway in the Caribbean. I wanted something offbeat, something different. I wished I could find an authentic French restaurant like the one I stumbled upon in the old city in Puerto Rico before the hurricane years ago. It had been such a hidden gem, and exactly the kind of exquisite find that I lived for in my travels. I turned a corner and came face to face with a sign that said O’Shea’s Authentic Irish Pub. I laughed. It was odd that there were so many businesses on St. Martin run by the same guy who was going to take me on a hiking excursion.

I couldn’t resist going inside. There was gleaming wood, plenty of black and white photos and some Irish memorabilia on the walls. It had the look of a real pub in the UK. I found a table;