Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
We’re working with Marc, a gorgeous sous chef who I’m pretty sure I saw hanging around Sienna before she left. He’s dark-haired and blue-eyed and looks scrumptious in his black chef’s coat.
“I hope you two like shrimp,” he says to Sebastian and me.
“Could eat it at every meal.” Sebastian smiles.
“I love it too,” I say.
“Good. Then we’ll begin deveining our shrimp. These are fresh out of the water, just caught today.”
“Uh…deveining?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.” He points to a bowl full of gray-looking gelatin sitting on a bed of ice.
“What in the world is that?” I ask.
Marc laughs. “That’s the shrimp.”
What? You mean shrimp doesn’t come all pretty and pink with a side of cocktail sauce? That’s what it looks like when I see it in the store. I can’t afford to eat it often, but when I buy it, it’s a delicious luxury. Even better if I have a date and we go to Red Lobster on shrimp night. I love the deep-fried coconut shrimp. We’re on a tropical island. Aren’t coconuts tropical? Where’s the coconut shrimp?
“That doesn’t look like any shrimp I’ve seen,” I finally say.
Sebastian lets out a laugh. “It’s raw, Ariel.”
Warmth creeps into my cheeks. They’re laughing at me. Laughing at the little hayseed from Alabama who’s never seen raw shrimp before. I force a smile. “Okay. Let’s get to the”—I clear my throat—“deveining, then.”
Marc picks up one of the shrimps. “We’ll start by gently pulling off the shell, starting at the head.”
I slide on the thin rubber gloves Marc handed me earlier, gather my courage, and grab a shrimp from the bowl. Even in my gloved hands, the texture seems slimy. The shrimp’s beady black eyes are staring at me as if it’s some kind of alien life form.
“Having trouble, sugar?” Sebastian asks me.
I force another smile. “Of course not.”
“Good. For a minute you looked like you were about to toss your cookies.”
“Don’t be silly.” I rip the entire shell off the shrimp, but it ends up a gooey mess in my hands.
“That’s why I said gently.” Marc takes the shrimp from me and disposes of it. “Start at the head, as I did, but stop at the tail. We leave that on for both flavor and presentation.”
Sebastian peels four shrimps by the time I complete one. I manage one more before he and Marc have them all done.
“Good.” Marc picks up a small knife. “To devein, we’re going to make a shallow cut along the back of the shrimp, from the head end to the tail just deep enough to expose the dark vein, which is actually the shrimp's digestive tract.”
Seriously? I’m feeling faint again, but I desperately try not to show it.
Sebastian nudges me. “I bet you never thought you’d be knee-deep in shrimp shit on this island.”
His jovial mood lightens me up a little, and I bravely pick up a knife. I grab a shrimp and follow Marc’s lead, cutting along the back until I see the shit…er…vein. I slice down to the tail.
“Good, Ariel.” Marc smiles. “Now lift out the vein with the tip of your knife, or you can use your fingers. If the vein breaks, simply find where it snapped and continue removing it.”
“Sure thing.” I slide the tip of my knife under the vein and move meticulously until—
“Oh my God!” I hold the intact vein up to Marc. “I did it!”
He laughs. “You sure did! Excellent. Now we only have to do about fifty more.”
I feel oddly lighthearted, even though my next attempt isn’t nearly as successful. My vein breaks twice, but I continue on. If only Mama could see me now. She’s always trying to get me to learn to cook.
By the time I devein several more ice-cold shrimp, my hands are freezing, even with the gloves on. I rub them together to ease the chill.
“You okay, sugar?” Sebastian asks.
“My hands are cold.”
“Here.” He peels off my gloves and his own. “Let me help you.”
He takes both my hands in his large—and very warm—ones. His touch not only eases the biting chill but also makes me feel kind of giddy.
“Is that better?” He smiles down at me.
I simply nod.
“You’re something,” he says.
“Is that good or bad?”
“You’re adorable, Ariel.”
His words warm me, though I can’t help asking, “Even though I was grossed out by raw shrimp?”
“Especially because of that. You’re just you, and you don’t try to be someone you’re not. It’s refreshing, and I like it. I like it a lot, Ariel.”
You don’t try to be someone you’re not.
An interesting thought from Sebastian. I took a chance with him this morning. After making a fool of myself with both Brett and Alex—basically begging them for sex—I approached Sebastian differently and I ended up getting what I wanted.
I got strawberries and cream and so much more.