With my head arched all the way to the left as I look at the yacht, I catch Asher watching me and I turn my head back to the waterway in front of me. He releases his hold on my hip and I instantly miss the warmth.
It’s why I shouldn’t be surprised my spirits fall as we approach the Grande Marina. Our tour is ending and we have to dock. I move away from Asher and take a seat in the chair to his left and watch him skillfully pull the boat to a stone landing.
When we are close enough, he leans his body overboard to secure a rope to the spindles in the ground and I check out the way his shirt rides up with the arch of his back. His body swings back around toward me so I stand at attention and hide the fact I was just checking him out.
Asher brushes his hands against each other. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Paige.” His voice is formal and dismissive. He still has on his sunglasses but I can tell he is purposefully not making eye contact with me. I don’t know if he’s in worker mode or if I have done something to offend him.
“I had a great time,” I say.
“It was no problem. Have a good day.”
The curtness in his voice tells me my presence is no longer wanted. I move to the back of the boat. My hand on the railing, I start to make my decent to the dock but I stop and turn around.
“Did I do something wrong?”
His arm swings around to rub the back of his neck, his other resting on his hip. With his head down, he pauses a moment and then rises to ask me a question. “Were you disappointed when I showed up this morning and not Devon?”
The question catches me off guard. The truth is, I was disappointed this morning. When I saw him I was reminded of the scene I caused yesterday. If I could, I would have turned around and gone straight to the hotel because he unnerved me.
He still does but for a different reason than he did yesterday.
I slant my head to the side, confused. “Why would it have mattered?”
Asher’s scrutiny over my response causes me to gawk back at him and wait for a reply. Those stern eyes are set in as if they’re looking for an answer in mine.
A beat . . . two beats . . . three. He doesn’t answer.
So I do the only thing I know how to do lately. I retreat.
Walking back to the hotel, I can’t stop wondering what went wrong. One minute I was driving, enjoying the view and the next—
Ooof.
“Excuse me.” I say as I carelessly walk into a woman. My overanalyzing is getting the best of me.
I step back, giving her room to pass through the lobby doors of the hotel. Looking down I notice a gorgeous pair of Prada shoes with a heel elevated off the ground four inches higher than my rubber boat flats.
The Prada heels aren’t moving so I look up. In front of me is a tall woman with hair dark as a crow’s wearing an oversized hat and large round sunglasses hiding, what I presume from her exposed features, is a glamorous face. The dark lenses of the glass are facing me, looking directly at me, so I stare back at them, only seeing my confused expression in the reflection.
Since she has no desire to move, I bow my body down and shrug past her through the entrance. She is still standing there as I make my way through the lobby and out the opposite doors toward my suite.
Closing the door to the hotel room, I am immediately bombarded by sixty-four inches of blonde excitement.
“Details!” Leah exclaims, leaping across the room, the stray hairs from her messy bun falling around her face. She’s wearing a red bikini and the air smells of sunscreen and cherry lip balm. She must have just gotten back because her skin is still damp from the pool. “I want to know everything. Where did you go? Did he flirt with you? Did he take his shirt off? It was hot. Please tell me he took his shirt off. You’ve been gone for a really long time. I’m hoping you have a major story to tell. You didn’t get all weird on him, did you?”
That last question really gets to me.
Before I even think about answering a single question, I have a major bone to pick with her. “You ditched me!”
Leah holds up a finger in defense. “I did you a favor.”