Free Special Delivery by Amanda Bretz

cerulean depths. I turned my head when briefly the calypso music stopped and the captain announced in his lilting island accent that we’d almost reached our destination.
    Ocho Rios. We were almost there. As an artist I had spent the last ten years dreaming about visiting here, all of Jamaica, actually. Seeing the popular tourist destination of Ocho Rios had always been one of my deepest desires. The town was home to so much beauty.
    The boat was en route to Dunn’s River Falls, and I couldn’t wait to experience the rush of the water, the absolute freedom of being one with the land as I explored the natural wonder. When I stepped off the boat dock and touched down in the soft sand, a hundred possible paintings flashed in my mind. The landscape that was set before me became my canvas. The beach at sunset with hues of tangerine, scarlet, turquoise and lavender. The beach at dawn when the sun kissed the shore good morning. The beach on a rainy day, with the turbulent churning of a navy blue sea against an angry, dark sky.
    When I stepped a little closer to the falls, my heart pounded. The rushing water was so loud, I could barely hear my own thoughts. I stopped to stare at the unique rock formation. Nestled in the cliff just off the beach were the falls. The water cascaded down through large boulders, which resembled a jagged staircase.
    Taking a step forward reverently, somewhat timidly, I dipped my head under the spray that emptied out into the sea and pulled back instantly. Despite the tropical weather, the spring-fed water coming from the falls was frigid. I paused to look around, wondering if everyone else on the beach was as shocked by the chilly waters as I was. Groups of American tourists shrieked and splashed around on the beach, while running back and forth between the waters of the deep blue Caribbean Sea and the crisp clear water from the falls.
    The scene made me smile. I brought my camera’s viewfinder to my eye and began to snap pictures of the idyllic landscape.
    I nearly gasped in surprise when I saw a shirtless bronzed Adonis jogging towards me. Even though it was an invasion of his privacy, I used the powerful zoom feature on my camera to get a better shot. I zoomed in further, closing in on his washboard abs. I swallowed hard. I’d heard of a six-pack, but the sexy hunk was sporting an eight-pack.
    When he got closer, I twisted the lens and readjusted the zoom to focus in on his face. I clicked off a half-dozen shots in rapid succession as he ran towards me. His features were so stunning I knew he had to be some type of celebrity in Jamaica on vacation. Those eyes—they were the colour of warm caramel, and as he approached me, I could have sworn he was looking deeply into my own. God, he was gorgeous. I snapped one more picture of him as he jogged past me and it was all I could do not to follow him with my camera.
    That would be stalkerish. I instead turned my attention back to what I’d come to Ocho Rios for. The falls. I crouched down to a squatting position to get some shots from a different perspective. Soon I was lost in the pattern of the rocks and the flow of the water.
    “It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” a deep voice beside me said.
    I whipped my head so fast to the right that the beads on my braided head hit my neck with a stinging sensation. I winced in pain, but met the speaker’s gaze anyway. I was stunned when I saw that the stranger in front of me was my sexy jogger. He had come back. I tried hard not to stare at the way sweat trickled down his hard abs and collected in the waistband of his shorts. I was staring so intently that I had to remind myself that he’d asked me a question about the falls.
    “Yes, if there’s a real stairway to heaven, it has to look like this,” I insisted as I snapped another picture.
    “I think Jamaica is a small piece of heaven on earth,” he said in a soft, humble tone.
    “I think you’re right,” I agreed. Taking pictures of nature was pointless