Chapter 1 #2
“Pfft. What? I didn’t mean you. Obviously.” I shrugged and smiled and did all the things with my body that I hoped would make him think I’d been joking this whole time. What had I just said out loud? Something about him being rich and spoiled and an asshole?
A dark eyebrow arched. He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Can’t a man bask in the sun without getting shade thrown his way?”
“Sure. I mean, sorry.” I stumbled back a step with every new word falling out of me. “I’ll just . . . go back over there.” I thumbed over my shoulder. “Do my job. Just over here.” I slowed. “But uh . . . isn’t it . . . kinda bright out here for you?”
“Is it?” His eyebrow had stayed arched. Permanently hooked up there. “Hadn’t noticed.”
I winced. “I was trying to help, is all. Google said that vampires and sun . . . well, you know. I guess.”
His smile grew, then slid off his lips. “Right. I know. Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”
Uhm . . . okay. So, he wanted to bask in the sun? That was a thing vampires did for fun, I guessed. I really needed to research my employers. Right after I was done looking after their pool.
I went back to doing my job, which became a whole lot more difficult with his gaze stuck on me.
Filter reassembled, and the pit cover back in place, I grabbed the net and scooped debris from the pool’s surface, while his gaze burned my back.
Or maybe that was the sun beating down. Either way, I’d preferred it when he’d been out cold and ignoring me.
“What’s your name?” he asked, after fifteen minutes of silence. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”
I straightened, leaned on the net handle, and frowned across the glittering expanse of cool blue water. He’d gone back to the on-his-back pose, hand thrown across his eyes.
Telling him my name was probably a bad idea. But since he’d asked so nicely. “It’s Owen.”
“Don’t care,” he called.
So, my earlier snap judgment had been right. He was an asshole. What did I expect from a social media’s darling out-and-proud vampire playboy?
I went back to scooping leaves. Look at him over there.
Designer boots unlaced, too special for knots.
I hope he trips on them. Sparkly nail varnish—and that shirt .
. . Who wears a pale green and pink flower-print shirt and makes it look good?
So rock star. So gorgeous. Ugh. How does he look at that face in the mirror every morning?
Maybe he didn’t like it, that’s why he was slowly frying himself alive?
I continued to side-eye the sunbathing vampire. Maybe he liked the bad? Maybe he was punishing himself? No, do not go there. I didn’t need to get involved.
I went back to my work, finished up, packed the gear, and stored it back in the shed behind the pool house. When I came back out, he was still there.
It couldn’t be healthy for him.
This was the part where I should leave. Not my problem. But Google said him staying there was a bad idea. If I left now, I’d spend the rest of the day wondering if the news might announce that the Witherborne heir had done something stupid.
Why else was he sunbathing, if he wasn’t torturing himself?
I had to give it one more shot. And if he brushed me off, then I was done. At least I’d have tried.
I stopped at his side again, peering down. Little beads of sweat glistened on his chest now. “Hey, man, so uh . . . whatever this is, can you maybe do it on a different day?”
He snorted and kept his hand over his eyes. “I’m not your problem, pool boy.”
“I get that. Told myself that too. But I’ve seen you, and if something happens to you out here, then I’m on the hook, an’ I really don’t need the heat right now.”
“I’m so sorry my untimely death will be inconvenient.”
Really, was that what this was, or was he being dramatic? I planted a hand on my hip and squinted across the pool, torn between leaving now or staying and talking Theo Witherborne off a ledge. “You got a phone?”
He peeled his hand off his sweaty forehead, squinted at me, and frowned.
I flicked my fingers, urging him to get his phone out.
He dug into his pocket, unlocked his phone, and handed it over. “You putting your number in there?”
“No. I’m putting a number for a therapist in here. He’s good. You should call him.”
He barked a sharp laugh. “You’re giving me your therapist’s number?”
“Sounds like you need it, buddy.” I finished typing the number into his contacts and held the phone out for him to take back.
He looked at the phone, then flicked his gaze up. He jerked his chin. “Put your number in there.”
“What?”
“Go on. In the contacts. Under Pool Boy.”
I half laughed him off. “Why?”
His smile tucked into his cheek. “So I can text you my deepest, darkest secrets at two a.m.”
“Uh, yeah, no. Not doing that.” I waved his phone at him.
He snatched it back. “Wow, so cold. Here I am, crying for help, and you kick me to the gutter. Brutal.”
I chuckled. “Whatever, man. You don’t need my number. Get some help, alright? I need this job.”
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, then looked up at me. “What if I pay you to be my therapist?”
“You want me to listen to how terrible your rich boy life is? Can’t help you there. I look after pools, not people.”
“Right.” He saluted and waved me off. “Go away, then.”
Shaking my head, I left him on the lounger and headed for the path that weaved around the side of the house and back toward the front driveway.
“Hey, pool boy?”
Should have kept on walking.
I didn’t, though, did I? No. I stopped, looked over my shoulder.
He’d sat up, legs straddling the lounger, shielding his eyes, and something about him sitting there with the vast mansion looming behind him made him seem small and alone, and even though he smiled, that smile held an edge of sadness that hadn’t been there before.
Damn the handsome ones. They got me every time. I sighed and turned. “Yeah?”
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks to go next door and check out their pool.”
I tucked my thumb into my belt loop and laughed. What the heck was this now? “Man, I got somewhere I need to be.” I didn’t. I planned on going home and searching up Theo Witherborne until I got sick of looking at his face on my phone’s cracked screen.
He dug into his pocket, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, and waved it like a starting flag.