CHAPTER 5 #5
I’m snapped out of my detective mode when I realize his eyes are bearing down on me with so much intensity, goosebumps wash over my skin, and not the good kind. Those pools of blue are breathtaking, but right now, they’re also unsettling, and I’m left wondering if I did something to offend him.
“If you want to help,” he starts with his low, gravelly voice that sends butterflies through my tummy, “but…”
It’s an awkward pause as his hand comes to the back of his neck and he fidgets like he’s not sure about something.
“But what?”
His eyes drop down to my boots, then travel slowly up my body, but not in a creepy way. From the wrinkle forming between his brows, it’s more like he’s concerned about something. Then he finally comes out with it. “Aren’t you cold?”
Ah, I get it now. And I love how delicately he addressed the elephant in the forest—AKA, my bikini. Jake would have accosted me with something like, “For fuck’s sake, put on some damn clothes,” followed by, “You look like a cheap whore.” And that would’ve been my ex-boyfriend on a good day.
“I was planning to change, dummy.”
As soon as the words come out my cheeks burn.
What the hell was that? The way “dummy” came out, all breathy like a cheesy Marilyn Monroe impression, couldn’t have been more flirty.
What’s the matter with me? I have absolutely no intention of flirting with this man.
I just need my traitorous hormones to get in line with my still-aching heart that Jake put a knife through.
He fake-coughs and I blink, realizing I’m just standing here like an idiot.
How embarrassing. I quickly flash him my friendliest smile in an attempt to recover.
But the deep V his brows are forming says it all—he thinks I’m a crazy woman.
Great. “I’ll be right back,” I add with an awkward shrug.
And with that, I need to turn around and walk back to the lodge.
But I can’t. For reasons that don’t make sense, I’m keenly aware of every inch of my exposed skin, like I’m practically naked…
which, I actually am. I resist the intense urge to grip the hem of my transparent cover-up with both hands and pull it down.
Like that would do anything to hide my cheeky bottoms when I turn to leave. Damn see-through cover-up!
As if he can read my mind, without explanation he does something so out of the ordinary, so confusing, and so darn nice, I could almost cry. For some reason, he turns his back to me with, “Take your time. I’ll be here for a while.”
It’s like he could sense my anxiety. Who is this man?
Whoever he is, a tense breath leaves my chest, and I relax my shoulders a bit. Now I can walk back to the lodge without feeling like his eyes are glued to my half-naked ass. Why can’t I have Rhonda’s confidence? She would have been devastated if a guy didn’t bother to watch her walk away.
But now that he’s facing away from me, I do the not-so-honorable thing and let my eyes drop to his perfect, rock-hard ass. How could I not give it one more lust-filled examination before I turn to leave with a simple, “Thanks.”
Walking back to the lodge, I do what I always do and start second-guessing myself.
Maybe offering to help him was a terrible idea.
I could tell he was interested by the way he was looking at me.
At least I think so. Was he looking at me that way?
Now that I think about it, I’m not sure.
If anything, he was hard to read. Maybe he wasn’t.
Actually, I don’t think he was. Not even a little bit?
I strain to remember if he gave any indication that he noticed me that way.
I was standing in front of him in a bikini, so how could that not get his attention?
But I don’t think it did. Maybe he’s into men.
That would be such a letdown. Wait, really?
What am I saying? I don’t want him to be interested in me.
I don’t want any man to be interested in me.
After Jake, I’ve learned my lesson. Men are trouble—beautiful, stupid, unfixable trouble and I don’t want to have anything to do with any of them.
I reach the top of the small hill and am about to trudge down the other side where I know he won’t be able to see me, and out of nowhere I feel uncharacteristically conflicted.
I hate being gawked at by pervy guys, so why am I kind of wishing a man I just met and know nothing about was checking out my ass right now?
Maybe Rhonda is starting to rub off on me.
As I reach the lodge, I’ve talked myself full circle and come to the realization that, as usual, I’m overthinking things.
Why do I always do that? This doesn’t have to be complicated.
I’ll help the guy for a couple of hours, then join Rhonda for dinner.
After that, maybe I’ll hit the spa. I’ve never actually been to a spa, but I’ve seen women on reality shows rave about them, so they must be nice.
After that, maybe I’ll party until midnight.
And by “party,” I mean soak in a hot tub with a glass of wine—oh, and definitely some chocolate!
Wine, chocolate, hot tub—life couldn’t get any better than that.