Chapter 3
DELTA
The sun leans behind the houses, creating a shadow where the waves crash on the sand.
I tug my loose dress free, step out of my sandals and make my way to the water.
The best part about this house-sitting business is taking a dip after my work hours are over.
I can’t believe I’m about to swim in the ocean for the first time in forever, and I’m being paid for this.
This house-sitting business is a dream.
I wade into the cold water, leaving behind the shade.
Where the sun hits the waves, the water is warm as it embraces me.
I dive and let myself relax in the sea’s embrace as I swim deeper into the ocean.
After coming up for a breath, I float belly-up, every muscle in my body unwinding from the day’s pressure.
A business deal, he said. It sounds like Vance York has no one better to ask this, and he truly needs me.
For a moment, when I saw that golden god of a man knocking on the door, I had this stupid hope of...
No. I can’t even let myself think that. There’s no way he could ever be attracted to me.
A man like him? All big, handsome, and rich?
There’s no way he has problems with women.
I’m just closer to him, geographically speaking.
One dinner pretending I’m in love with him, and then I fix my laptop problem without spending a cent from my pocket. It can’t get any better.
The sound of someone swimming by makes me turn my head. I jerk with surprise at Vance swimming closer, his ocean blue eyes on me. Oh, no. Is he already going to give up? Maybe he found some other girl? A skinnier girl? I was already daydreaming about a new laptop.
“Hi,” I start, pretending I’m not worried. “You’re back.”
“Saw you coming out to swim,” he replies, shoving his wet hair back. “Thought we could chat.”
I throw a glance at his broad, bulky shoulders, wet from the ocean, glinting with the sun, and how deep marks between his dark brows don’t disappear even when he relaxes. He doesn’t look like someone who chats.
“Sure. About what?”
“I know your name, and that’s all. My parents would never believe we’re dating if we didn’t know each other.”
He has a point. I nod, swimming to stay in place. “Okay. I work as a virtual assistant to a few authors. Mainly romance. There are a couple who are best sellers.”
“Makes sense why you need a computer then,” he says and my gaze follows the way his wet lips move to the words. Damn, he’s sexy. “Do you like to read?” he asks, and I have to drag my gaze away.
“Who doesn’t?”
He chuckles, but it’s a weird sound, as if he’s not sure how to do it. “It’s been a while since I picked up a book.”
“Really?” Reading is such a big part of the community I’m in. Because of the authors I work for, I make friends in groups and such, and they’re all voracious readers. “Why?”
“Work.” And he shrugs. “I work a lot.”
“What do you do for a living?” He looks like a lawyer, one of those who defends bad people just because of money, but Alina told me his family was loaded. Maybe his day-to-day occupation is looking hot. “Are you a model?” I blurt.
He chuckles, but it doesn’t stop there. His laughter grows and grows, and soon he’s cackling. Wow, I had no idea I was this funny.
Vance wipes the corner of his eye. “You got me there. I don’t remember the last time I laughed this much.”
“So, I’m taking this as a no.”
“No, definitely not a model. Have you seen me? I’m six-three. I wouldn’t fit the clothes.”
“Oh,” I say and chuckle along, heat spreading across my cheeks. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to have noticed the reason behind my question. “Lawyer?”
“As boring,” he points out, his lips threatening to curl. But that’s all they do. “Finances. My father has a financial administration business, and I was raised in the job. Knew nothing else.”
I keep myself afloat, studying his handsome face, the sharp jaw, and the stubble across his chin. Beneath the handsomeness, I can see a certain sadness in his eyes. Does he dislike this job? “It must be awful to have no choice,” I say, and he glances at me with wide eyes.
After a moment, he looks away. “It is.”
We swim around each other. An idea appears in my head, even though I know I shouldn’t ask this. He might regret the deal. “So, you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he replies too fast. “I don’t date.”
“No? Why not?” Is he one of those millionaires from books who don’t date because of money or something?
“If there’s one thing I learned,” he says, then takes a dip, “it’s that love’s invented. Simple as that.”
I chuckle, but he looks serious. Arching an eyebrow, I wait for him to complete his thought, but he doesn’t. “You’re kidding. Love’s invented?”
“People have interests, and they might think it’s love, but it’s either nature telling you to reproduce or a hidden ambition.”
“Oh, my God, that was the saltiest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, and he turns to me with parted lips and brows lowered in insult, but his gaze moves behind me, sharp with a warning.
A huge wave crashes over my head, shoving me down.
I fling my arms, the punch so strong all the air escapes past my lips.
Kicking hard, I swim back up to the surface, but a second wave hits me in a different position, making me lose my footing.
I sway from side to side, being thrown everywhere by the suddenly harsh tide.
I try to squirm and flay my body towards the surface.
My lungs tighten, my throat burning with the need for air.
An arm folds hard around my waist, and my head goes blank as he pulls me out of the water.
My head breaks the surface and I gasp for air for one second before another wave hits us.
Vance keeps dragging me back until the water is shallow enough that I can sit down, the waves brushing my breasts.
That wasn’t a good swim at all. I gasp and spit, then wipe hair and water away from my face.
I turn to find Vance sitting behind me, our legs intertwined, his black hair a mess.
“Thank you,” I say, breathless.
He nods. “We have sudden big waves here. Don’t go too deep on your own.”
And then I notice how close he’s standing to me and how hot his arm feels against my stomach.
Vance unfolds the arm, but his hand lies spread on my hip for another second.
We stare, his deep eyes on me, my shoulder pressed to his chest. I gape between his eyes and the water dripping from his lips.
He’s so big I’m shadowed, protected, the broadness of his shoulders making him look steady, grounded...
He jerks his hand back and stands up. Is it because he touched the rolls of my stomach? Normally I would have sucked it up, but I was drowning. I blink a couple of times and follow him out of the beach. He walks to his house without a look back.
What am I daydreaming about? About the rich man who’s going to pay me to pretend we like each other? This has to be a sign that I almost drowned. I can’t go there. He would never want me.
God. Is this even going to work out?