Chapter 5 #4
“Preston?" She steps inside and stops.
"Yes, honey?”
"Gina Spellman is here.” She opens the door wider and ushers me inside to what is obviously Mr. Waverly’s office and study. There are books upon books in bookshelves and on his desk, and I notice a well-worn copy of Hamlet, sitting on a chair next to him.
"Wonderful." I watch as a tall man with a balding head stands up.
He's got shrewd eyes and doesn't look particularly personable, but there's a small smile on his weathered, knowing face, so I'm not going to judge him just on his appearance.
He's wearing a dark suit, which also surprises me because he's at home, but I suppose when you're wealthy, you always wear a suit.
"Good to finally meet you, Gina. Your grandfather has told me so much about you. "
"He has?" I ask in surprise, because I know my grandfather hasn't known him for long. I also hope he hasn’t regaled Mr. Waverly with tales of my horrible dating history. Though I’m not sure why he would have done that.
"Yes. When we're on the golf course, we like to talk about our families. I talk about my kids and grandkids, and he talks about his kids and grandkids, and he has said how pleased he is that you found your husband." He beams at me. “And all about your wonderful job.”
“Huh?” I frown, and then my heart sinks.
“I think you’re thinking about my sister.
” I try not to feel deflated because, of course, my grandfather would talk about my sister.
She is perfect and has the perfect life.
There is a lot to be proud of with her. It isn’t that I am envious that she has her shit together.
I just want to do something that is boast-worthy, as well.
“Maybe.” Preston shrugs. "You can go along now, Enid. I can talk with Gina now. I know your group is here and waiting on your budding leadership.” I wonder if Amethyst knows that Enid is the leader. As far as I could see, she saw herself in that role.
"I look forward to speaking to you later, Gina." There’s an ethereal quality to her voice, and I notice that when she walks, she appears to be gliding across the floor. There’s a steely grace to her that’s welcoming, but not overly friendly.
I’m unsure if I like her or not. In fact, I’m not sure how I feel about Preston either.
Neither of them are how I expected them to be, and that has me feeling uncomfortable and slightly out of my element.
"You, too," I say. And as she turns, I notice the very large sparkling diamond earrings in her earlobes and try not to let my eyes widen.
I mean, I shouldn't be shocked that she's wearing expensive jewelry because she's rich, but if I had to guess, those earrings cost at least $200,000. She’s so different from Amethyst. I wonder how they got to be friends.
She closes the door behind her, and I stand there awkwardly, not sure if I should go up to Preston and give him a hug or shake his hand, so I wait for him to lead the way.
“Did I tell you how much I love golf now that I’m retired?” He sits back down. "You ever play?"
"No, not really," I say, shaking my head. This whole day is going nowhere fast.
"That's a pity, but it is what it is."
“I’m excited to get started on this project, though.
I am here to write—or I should say ghostwrite—this book, so please tell me exactly what you're looking for in terms of content.
" I grab a pen and a notepad from my handbag and stand poised to get to work.
I don't really know what comes next. I want to ask him about his grandsons and if there are any upcoming secret weddings, but I’m not that dumb.
While I'm here for multiple reasons, it's not like I can just start snooping around and asking extremely personal questions.
I need to figure out how to gather an inside look at the lives of the richest family on the island without them knowing.
"I'm feeling kind of puckish." He looks at the clock on the wall, next to a shield. "Are you hungry?"
"No, not really," I say, shaking my head. "Would you like to join the writing group and eat? I know Mrs. Waverly said that they were going to have tuna tartare and—"
"Oh, no, no, no. I don't eat such things. Raw fish, no. You know what I would love right now?"
"No, sir. What's that?"
“A good old-fashioned PB it appears that he’s pulling weeds.
I see him reach for a bottle of water in his back pocket and take a swig.
I can’t tell if he’s handsome because he has sunglasses on, but then he reaches up to take them off.
My heart starts racing as he reveals his face to me.
I feel myself shivering as I realize I know who this man is.
“Oh, shit," I mumble under my breath as my eyes narrow, and I take a step even closer to the window and press my fingers against the glass. I recognize this man. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan, because the hot gardener, the naked man that I’ve been ogling over, is Hunter. Hunter, the cupcake thief.
My nemesis.
My enemy.
I can’t believe that Hunter works here, as well. I thought he was a tourist in town. How have I been so wrong?
“Shit.” I groan loudly. My enemy works here with me.
And I’ve been lusting over him since I saw him at the front.
I’ve been salivating over Hunter. “Kill me now.” It is just my luck.
I can’t believe my life. I instantly know that this is going to be the longest summer of my entire existence.
Not only do I need to ghostwrite a book, investigate a newsworthy story, and not get fired, but I also have to ignore the fact that my blood is boiling and my heart is racing for a man who seems to have the ability to see right through me.
All my plans have changed. I no longer want the hot gardener to notice me.
I want to be invisible. Because this man could unravel all of my plans.