“Oh hell no.” I didn’t know why Ollie didn’t want me tagging along. I should’ve given up and turned around. I could’ve explained the situation to Quinn. But Ollie winning meantmelosing, and after the last few months, I really needed a win.
I swiped Ollie’s boat shoes from the floor and followed him, infuriated by how he looked up at me coolly when he stopped beside the gangway to tug on his sneakers. “No shoes? Sorry,love. My taxi should be here any minute, and I’m in a hurry. Maybe you can come next time.”
“Oh, I’ve got a pair of shoes,” I said, grinning as I shoved my feet into his boat shoes.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping you go provision shopping.”
I stepped around him, racing down the gangway and onto the dock. Ollie swore and shot to his feet. “Don’t you dare,” he said, and followed me down the dock. When I reached the end of it, I stepped into the parking lot without hesitation.
Ollie swore. “I can’t believe you just did that!” he said when he caught up to me. “I won’t be able to wear those on the boat now with you tromping around God knows where, picking up God knows what!”
I gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Oops! Silly me. I had no idea!” I continued through the parking lot. “Gosh, I just know absolutely nothing about yachting! However did I get this job?”
Ollie fumed at my side. “Jesus, you can’t still be mad at me for saying that, can you? Youdidn’tknow anything about yachting. It was a statement of fact.”
We exited the marina and halted beside the main road to wait for the taxi. A car whizzed past, kicking up a stray grocery bag that wound itself around Ollie’s ankle. I tried not to laugh as he attempted to shake it loose. Eventually he gave up and bent over to pull it off. He balled up the grocery bag and shoved it into one of his pants pockets, muttering about litter under his breath.
“Forget delightful, you’re about as charming as that grocery bag,” I said.
Ollie glared at me. “I happen to like grocery bags. Means I can carry more groceries. You don’t like grocery bags or something?”
“They’re... fine, I guess.”
Ollie snorted. “Fine? You ever shopped at an Aldi before?”
“Who hasn’t?” I said, uncertain where this conversation was going.
“Always forget to bring my bags,” Ollie said. “End up looking like a feckin’ Muppet carrying everything up to my apartment.” He turned to me with narrowed eyes. “I bet you’re the sort to load all the bags on your arms so you can bring everything inside in one go.”
“Am not,” I lied. I kicked at a rock with one of his oversized boat shoes. “And even if I were, who cares?”
“Smashes the bread,” Ollie said. “You like smashed bread?”
I ignored the question, becauseno, I did not like smashed bread. I gave him a long hard look. “Why are the pretty ones always annoying?”
The corner of Ollie’s mouth twitched, and a dimple appeared. “You think I’m pretty, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know it. And don’t get any ideas. I’m not impressed by pretty.”
“Go on, then,” he said. “What’re you impressed by, if not my gorgeous face?”
I rolled my eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. “Snacks.”
“Snacks?”
“Yes, snacks,” I said, suddenly committed to the theory I’d only just made up. “You can tell the quality of a person’s character by what their favorite snacks are. I’d explain further, but that would be doing you a favor.” I turned away from him to look at the hills that rose in the distance. I’d been so distracted by Ollie that I’d forgotten where I was. A new country! An island! A world removed from my normal life!
“What are your favorite snacks, then?” Ollie asked.
“How about this: I’ll tell youoneof my favorite snacks if you tell me why you don’t want me here.”
Ollie looked me up and down. “Have you ever been provision shopping before?” he said.
“No.”
“Have you ever been to Saint Martin before?”
