Page 22 of Don't Look Down
“Sure thing. I’m gonna get ready and make a smoothie for the drive. I’ll text when I’m on my way.”
“Perfect.”
Seagulls squawk,circling and diving on their hunt for prey. Salt scents the air, waves gently lap at the kayak, and the sun shines brightly overhead. Sunlight sparkles over the crystalline water. There’s not a cloud in the sky.
Since it’s January, the day may have started off cool, but the temperature has climbed to the upper seventies. It’s still a bit cool for this Florida boy, but the heat of the sun makes it comfortable and soothing.
Cayden is ahead of me. He’s paused his paddling and has his camera raised to his eye. He’s a photographer with a passion for the human body and nature. Mostly, his bread and butter is special events, but he also books steamy boudoir and portrait sessions out of his loft apartment. The lighting there is fabulous.
The sun glints off the auburn tones in his reddish-brown hair. Paddling closer, I can see the huge smile on his face as he rapidly takes a few photos. He’s happy. Contentment fills me. I’m so grateful for this moment of quiet beauty. I inhale deeply, feeling very at peace.
It doesn’t last for long, though. My stomach growls insistently with hunger, demanding to be fed. Uh-oh. Red alert. If I don’t eat soon, it won’t be pretty.
We’ve been out on the water for close to two hours now. If I don’t cut this short, Cayden will stay out here for several more hours. He gets into this zone where he’s focused only on theshot. Capturing the scene as accurately as possible. Not missing a single moment.
But, alas, it is time for sustenance. There’re margaritas and at least half a dozen tacos with our names on them. And based on the hunger pains I’m feeling, time is short before I enter hanger territory. I can’t have that monster rear its head.
Picking my paddle back up, I dip one end into the water and alternate with the other, fluidly propelling myself closer to him.
“Cayden, boo, I’m famished.”
His chocolate brown eyes meet mine, his brow scrunched in confusion. He totally forgot I’m here. I smile patiently. It takes a moment, but his eyes finally clear. “Oh my god, Sky.” His eyes widen, and he checks his Apple watch. “We’ve been out here for hours. You should have stopped me sooner.”
Waving away his concern, I tell him, “Stop it. It’s cool. I know my limits here. I was enjoying this time with you. The stillness. It felt nice. But now, I’m hungry, so we gotta get moving.”
“Aw, you’re the best. I always forget how much you love sitting with me when I’m shooting. It’s literally the antithesis of who you are.”
“I know, right?” We laugh together at the irony for a moment. “I’m sure it helps that you’re always shooting by or on the ocean when I’m with you. That’s the Cancer in me. Always at home in the water. Just ask my abuela. She’ll tell you.”
“That sounds just like something she’d say. How is she, by the way? I miss her. And Cuban food. Yum. And now my senses are returning full force. I’m starving, too.” He pats his stomach.
“She’s good. As feisty and stubborn as ever. She misses you, too. But you know my cooking is just as good as hers. She taught me well. I’ll have to have you over for dinner soon. Check with Andrew and let me know when you guys are available. I’ll makeropa vieja.”
“Definitely. I’ll have to bring something for dessert.”
Cayden makes the most kick-ass desserts. Just the thought has me salivating and nodding my head rapidly in agreement. “Yes, daddy, bake for me.”
My statement triggers another round of laughter. By this point, we’ve made it back to the rental center. The attendant closest to us has a smile on her face as we paddle up. She definitely heard me. I must have said that louder than I thought. Oops.
We hand her our paddles, then climb out of the kayaks. Removing our life jackets and grabbing our stuff out of the storage hatches.
After we finish the return process, we hop into my car, and head towards Los Tacos Mexicanos. In this area, we’re inundated by Cuban food, which I’ll never complain about. Peruvian, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Columbian and Argentinian restaurants are also prevalent. On the other hand, there aren’t many places in south Florida where you can get authentic Mexican food, so while their name may be lacking in imagination, Los Tacos Mexicanos tops my list as charming and delicious.
For a weekend, it’s not too crowded and the hostess promises to seat us shortly.
Once we’re seated, the server places glasses of water, chips, and salsa on our table. “Hi, my name is Anita, I’ll be your waitress this afternoon. Can I get you anything else to drink? Any appetizers?”
Cayden makes an after-you motion for me to go first, “I’d like a watermelon margarita on the rocks with sugar on my rim.”
Anita writes my order on her notepad before looking to Cayden. He’s noticeably holding in a laugh, but his eyebrow is raised.
“What?”
“You’re ridiculous. I thought you wanted salt, Sky.” With a head shake, his eyes shift back to Anita. “I’ll take a strawberry margarita on the rocks with salt on the rim, please. Because I don’t crave excessive amounts of sugar like a child.”
Rolling my eyes, I smile saccharinely at Anita. “My drinks need to be as sweet as me. Thank you, darling.” I smirk at them and dig into the tortilla chips and salsa.Ay que rico.The tortilla chips are perfectly salted, thin and crunchy. I scoop up some more and shovel another bite in my mouth. The spiciness of the jalapenos is balanced by the flavors of tomatoes, onions, cilantro and lime. Ahh, I’m in heaven. So many of my favorite things in my mouth all at once.
She laughs a little at our banter. “I’ll put these drinks in for you and be right back to take your order.”