Chapter 27
The next day, I press a pretty handmade floral sign on the glass door of the bookshop that reads: Find me by the Lagoon Bar for all your reading needs!
Yes, my frangipani flowers need work, but it fits the tropical theme.
After I lock up, I bike along the path, books stacked in my basket, ready to set up a pop-up table by the lagoon bar.
I’m trying to work out peak times when the pool is at its busiest and cocktails are flowing enough, and guests are in a book-buying mood and not snoozing in the afternoon sun.
It’s a fine line and so far I haven’t managed to time it exactly right.
What I know for sure is the couple of hours around lunchtime, the bookshop does not welcome a single customer, and that’s been the case every day.
My plan is to fill that two hours elsewhere around the resort and hopefully make some mobile sales.
Today, I’ve chosen a stack of travel memoirs and romantic summer reads that are sure to tempt the fussiest readers. Joji has already set up a folding table for me and is bringing another box of books in the golf cart.
‘Bonzour, bonzour!’ I practically yodel to the guests who are splashing away happily in the pool. They all wear those contented, relaxed holiday faces, and their eyes are bright, like they’ve slept well, the joys of no alarm clocks and no work.
I get a few waves, and a couple of people eye me from their sun loungers as I set up, just far away enough that the books are safe from random splashes. Soon enough, Doris jangles her way over.
‘Nice to see you again, Doris.’
‘You too, Harper. What’ve you got there? Anything new?’
‘Actually, I have some amazing titles from Gus’s curated reading list. Have you read any of these?’
‘Only one of them. I do like a good travel memoir. All the fun of it, without having to leave my own home.’
‘A holiday in a book!’
‘Yes, that’s exactly it. OK, which one, do you suggest?’
‘What about this one?’ I say. ‘An Embarrassment of Mangoes by Ann Vanderhoof.’
‘Sure. And if I don’t like it?’
‘Then you can swap it with a friend.’
‘No refunds?’
Ah, another expat trick. ‘No refunds, and you’d probably break Gus’s heart if he found out you didn’t like one of his favourite books. Actually, do you have Gus’s number by chance?’
‘What for?’ She narrows her eyes.
‘I have a few questions about the Barefoot Bookshop, that’s all.’
‘I don’t think we’ll be concerning Gus about that, do you?’
‘Why not?’
‘I take it by these leading questions you still don’t understand what’s going on, and I’m not going to be the one to tell you.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘You’ll have to get a little craftier. The phone number trick was too obvious.’
‘Can I try again?’
‘No.’
Damn it. ‘Why is it a secret?’
‘Why is anything a secret?’
‘That’s how you’re going to play it?’
She grins. ‘I’ll pay you for this later. OK?’
‘No can do.’
‘So that’s how you’re going to play it?’
I return her Cheshire cat grin. ‘Yup. Payment upfront or charge to your room and no returns. I can spot a “gently read” novel, you know.’
She has the grace to blush. ‘Nice. Maybe you will fit in – I’ll reserve judgement for now.’
‘Lucky me.’
As she hands over her lanyard so I can scan it, Xavier struts past and, oh my lord, he’s got no shirt on.
My face flames as if I haven’t seen a man’s upper body before.
His deep brown skin is a ripple of muscles and I have the crazy urge to run a hand over his abs to feel every ridge.
Must be sunstroke. What is the UV today?
One million? It’s fried whatever working brain cells I had left.
‘Harper,’ he says crisply.
‘Xa – Xa – Xavier,’ I choke out. ‘Swallowed a fly.’ Oh, you idiot!
Doris lets out a loud guffaw. I shoot her a glare. Xavier power-saunters, towel casually draped over a shoulder like he’s walking a runway. When he stops before me, I frown. Why is he shooting me daggers?
‘Who’s looking after the bookshop?’ His tone is demanding and it takes great effort not to spit my reply back at him. What’s with the hostility? It’s not like I’ve taken the afternoon off, is it?
I exhale and say with a smile, ‘It’s always dead at the hottest time of the day so I figured I’d bring the books to where the guests are. Makes sense, right?’ I don’t tell him I’ve been doing this all week, not when he’s being so grumpy.
‘And what if guests make the long, hot walk down the path only to find the bookshop closed?’
‘I left a sign saying where to find me.’
‘What made you think—’
I cut him off before he gets too far into a lecture and lower my voice so guests in the vicinity can’t hear.
‘Look, Xavier, I want the bookshop to succeed as much as you do. However, in the middle of the day, it’s a ghost town.
Guests are poolside, on tours, napping, or feet up under a palm tree with a book.
If you take a look around, this is where most of them hang out. ’
‘You could use that time to order stock, to tidy the shelves, or for all the admin.’
‘Yeah, I could. Or I could focus on the bottom line which is what needs fixing more urgently. The rest I can do in other snatches of time. Now, if you don’t mind?’ I point to Doris, who is, of course, eagerly listening in.
‘Fine,’ he eventually concedes. ‘As long as no one is disappointed to find it closed.’
‘They won’t be.’
He gives me a curt nod and turns away. I can’t help but feel smug about my small victory. Talk about a micromanager, sheesh. If he’s like this with every staff member, he must be run ragged trying to oversee every little thing. Or is the bookshop different? Special to him?
When he’s out of earshot, Doris says, ‘Cool, Harper. Once you stopped stuttering over him, you were very eloquent.’
‘Oh shush, you. Buy another book, will you, so my cunning plan makes sense to him?’
This only makes her laugh louder. ‘Sure, give me a 10 per cent discount and you’ve got a deal.’
‘Fine.’
‘Just so you know, Xavier is hot property around here.’
‘What does that mean? Because it sounds suspiciously like you’re objectifying him, Doris, and that’s not very PC these days.
And I don’t like to point out that most of the population of the resort is what can best be described as ageing, so are you implying that Xavier is hot property among the mostly seventy-year-olds? ’
‘It means what it means. Women love him; hell, men do too. Act fast or lose out.’
‘Righteo. It’s been a blast, Doris. Truly.’ The woman is a menace and, dammit, I like her style.
‘Quick tip – play hard to get, don’t make it so obvious.’
‘Oh geez, thanks. Dating advice from circa 1970. What could possibly go wrong?’ I roll my eyes. ‘Play hard to get? Have we evolved nought?’
‘In denial, aren’t you?’ Did she not just overhear most of our exchange where I had to practically tell Xavier to back off and let me try different initiatives for the bookshop? How she’s not joining those dots defeats me.
‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response.’
‘You just did.’
‘Goodbye.’
She snatches the books and mutters, ‘It’d better be good.’
I’m distracted by a group of kids who barrel their way past, holding pool noodles and floaty toys. They laugh and shriek and jump into the pool in one big screaming heap.
Xavier soon sinks into the turquoise water and puts up a net. ‘Don’t push his head under,’ he says to one particularly rambunctious kid. There’s always one.
‘Aww, OK,’ the kid says. ‘Can I be on your team?’
The kids gather round Xavier while he splits them into two teams to play pool volleyball. I’m trying hard to focus on the business of selling books but whoa, it’s not easy. Too many distractions around a noisy pool. Like for instance, the way the water rolls down Xavier’s body and – and – and…
‘Excuse me, earth to Harper!’
I snap back to the present. ‘Yes?’
‘Here’s your box of books that you insisted I rush over to bring,’ Joji says, following my line of sight. ‘Oh. Boss man. Hot, right? A solid ten.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t…’
‘You would so.’
‘Joji!’ Xavier yells. ‘Get in, we’re one person short.’
Joji leans close to me and whispers, ‘Doesn’t have to ask me twice.’ And winks.
Joji is about to pull his shirt off when Mariola arrives. ‘Joji, you’re needed in guest services.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No!’
Xavier turns to me. ‘Then it’s you, Harper.’
‘Me?’ My voice comes out in a high-pitched screech. ‘No, I’m working as we just discussed.’ In a demanding tone, I might add.
‘Come on! Look at their little faces.’ Suddenly, Xavier is a different person; gone is the boss man of not two minutes ago, replaced with a soft paternal type. Huh.
The kids drop their bottom lips and ham it up, as if it’s a disaster they’re one short when really, it’s not the Olympics, is it?
‘No. I’m not dressed for swimming.’
‘You’re in shorts and a singlet, that’s good enough.’ Before I can react fast enough, the kids jump out of the pool and surround me, pushing me in the back. ‘No! Absolutely not. Don’t you manhandle—’
‘You shouldn’t gender it, lady.’
‘Leave her be.’ Xavier laughs. ‘Harper doesn’t want to swim in her clothes.’ I give him a thankful nod but my attention is soon dragged away as the kids continue their campaign to push me into the pool, not listening to a word Xavier says.
‘Hey! Don’t you personhandle – ARRGHHH!’ Those little rascals and their surprising strength.
I go tumbling, windmilling my arms, which I’m sure is decidedly attractive, and am about to splat into the pool when Xavier comes into view and catches me.
Instead of glorious cool water breaking my fall, the man mountain does.
‘Sorry,’ he says, staring deep into my eyes.
I swear the earth slows its spin and for a moment all I can feel is his arms around me, the way his touch makes my skin ignite.
This is what they talk about in the books!
That overwhelming sensation where the world fades to black and all you’re left with is this person who…
Before I can finish the thought, one of the little monsters places his hands on my head and dunks me under.
When I come up for air, Xavier has lifted him up and spins him away.
He soon swims back, shrieking for more. We spend the next hour launching kids from one end of the lagoon to the other.
I swear I won’t be able to move tomorrow but I’ve never laughed quite so hard, and I look at Xavier in a whole new light.
When he’s relaxed and fun like this, it’s like he’s a whole other person.
And I won’t lie – it’s intriguing to me.
Maybe the man is more than just a hot bod.
* * *
Later that night, Mariola joins me as I sway in the hammock in the staff area, mesmerised by the sparkling stars above. ‘You forget how pretty the stars are.’ With so much light pollution in big cities, you forget they even exist.
‘Yes, it’s quite an artwork by Mother Nature.’
‘I love it here,’ I say, and feel the truth in my words.
‘Oh no, Harper. If you stay any longer, you won’t be able to leave…!’ She laughs and I follow suit. ‘You handled the kids well today.’
I do an awkward turn in the hammock and roll up like a burrito. ‘Who were they? They didn’t look like they had parents with them.’
‘They’re islanders who visit the pool once a week for swimming lessons that Xavier provides, one of his initiatives that’s actually worthwhile.
When he returned to Esperé, a local child had a near miss in the ocean and it was just lucky a fisherman happened along, or it would have ended tragically.
When Xavier found out that the boy didn’t know how to swim, he decided to offer a swimming safety programme for local kids.
Today their swimming teacher called in sick, but Xavier didn’t want them to miss out on their pool time.
They usually do lessons and then spend the afternoon by the lagoon playing games and having lunch. ’
‘Oh, he does have a heart.’
Is that the kind of man who would then demolish parts of the rainforest?
Rainforest that these kids no doubt run through to get to the beach?
Maybe that’s why he offered the swimming lessons though, so they think he’s a good guy?
I’m conflicted when I think of Xavier. Yeah, there’s the intensity of attraction, but I couldn’t love a man who had no principles.
Love. I must have been hit on the head by a coconut!
* * *
I’m about to turn off the bedside light when there’s a light tap on the door. A woman from guest services appears and hands me a box. ‘From Xavier.’
‘Oh?’
‘There’s a note.’ Before I can say anything she removes the note from the box and reads it, ‘“Sorry about the dunking, hope this makes you more comfortable around the pool.” Oooh! What do you make of that then?’ Should she be reading my private notes and questioning me?
Probably not, but it’s the way it is around here.
‘It’s an apology, is all.’ I open the box and pull out what appears to be an inflatable banana. ‘Ummm?’ We burst out laughing. ‘Maybe he thinks I’m a terrible swimmer?’
‘Or maybe he’s saying he’s got a big banana?’
‘Oh my God!’ We fall about laughing. The gesture is sweet and I get a little tingle knowing he thought about me enough to send… an inflatable banana, which I will not ever be seen with by the pool and risk the many lewd jokes that will surely come with it.