‘You?’ I can’t keep the incredulity from my voice.
‘What? Do you think I’ll scare them away?’ He grins and it changes the entire shape of his face. It becomes softer, sweeter; he loses that rigidness he so often carries. Maybe he’s holding tension in his back teeth too? I don’t know enough about the science behind it to mention such a thing.
‘You might! What if you’re on one of those “big shot, I’m the boss buy-sell” power broker calls?’
‘The… what?’
‘You know what I mean. What if you don’t give guests enough attention? I don’t want you undoing all my hard work just because you get a phone call you can’t ignore or an urgent situation crops up.’
‘You can trust me, Harper.’ He laughs, I guess, at the role reversal. I’m not quite sure why I’m so protective over the Barefoot Bookshop already, but I am. I don’t want Xavier ignoring a guest if he gets pulled away by a staff member or an important email.
‘OK, well, maybe I’ll hang around and read out the front in one of the hammocks on the days you relieve me of my duties, how about that? That way, I’m still relaxing but I’m on hand if needed.’
‘Sounds like a fair compromise.’
I’ve been eyeing off the hammocks for days as they sway in the lull of the afternoons, creaking ever so gently like an invitation. But then it dawns on me – is Xavier only offering to do this to keep an eye on the bookshop, or more specifically, me? It’s odd that a business owner would go to this length, rather than just reshuffle staff. ‘You can trust me, too, Xavier. You do know that, don’t you?’ A cloud passes over his features. Does this have something to do with the Gus situation? Or perhaps what Mariola alluded to, that some staff haven’t always done the right thing? Now I’m not sure what to think – whether he’s looking out for me, making sure I’m not working too many hours, or in fact wants to keep a close eye because he’s suspicious of my motivations. ‘I can handle the bookshop hours, OK? You don’t need to help, I promise you I’m good at my job.’
What exactly can I get up to? Read on the job? Sleep on the job? Use my phone during work hours! I sense that the Barefoot Bookshop is special to Xavier and for that reason he’s wary.
He changes gears by asking, ‘The sales? How have they been?’
‘Slow, for a bookshop this size and for the number of customers that do wander in. Gus mentioned that the visit-to-sales ratio was an issue, and I have to agree. The problem is, they all seem to come in at the same peak times, after breakfast and late afternoon when the humidity drops so I’m run off my feet and unable to give everyone the attention they deserve.’
‘Would it help if Mariola came to assist in those times?’
‘If she can, that would be great, but I don’t want to add any more pressure to her schedule.’
‘Leave it with me – I’ll have a chat with her. Sales are the main priority, otherwise I can’t justify keeping the Barefoot Bookshop going and I’d really hate to have to close it.’ His shoulders slump, as if the thought of shutting the doors is a physical weight.
‘Give me some time. I’m sure I can build the bookshop up by hosting events and exclusive activities that will appeal to holidaymakers.’
‘Time is what I don’t have a lot of.’ The professional mask slips back on. ‘Anyway, it’s Saturday, your half day, so lock up and I’ll take you to the dock for the glass-bottom boat ride.’
‘The – what?’
He sends me a quizzical look. ‘The boat ride I mentioned before to see the marine life – you said you’d love that, remember?’
Damn my inherent politeness.
‘You want to feature Turt in your marketing campaigns, right? Well, the glass-bottom boat ride is the best way to learn about Seychellois marine life, but we need to hurry to make the last ride.’
‘A glass-bottom boat? Glass! How is that safe?’ What I don’t share is my fear of the ocean. Yeah, sure, it’s pretty to look at from the safety of the sand, but that’s where my fascination ends. Boats bouncing atop choppy seasickness-inducing waves do not inspire me with much confidence either. We have perfectly motionless land for a reason.
‘At the Last Chance Resort we encourage all staff to enjoy the activities on offer so they can recommend them to guests in good faith and answer any questions they might have. You’ll love it, trust me.’
‘I never trust a man who says “trust me”.’
He surveys me. ‘You’re scared of… boats?’
I take offence and fold my arms, like a petulant child. ‘I am no such thing! Why must you always assume?’ OK, he’s spot on, but how hard can a boat ride be? I talk myself down. It’s probably some luxurious catamaran and I’ll be quite safe. For some reason I don’t want to show any weakness in front of the damn man. And I really would like to learn more about the islands and marine life, so I can chat to guests about it.
That same infuriating grin is back, the one that says he’s got my measure. ‘How about I go on the boat with you?’
I gasp. ‘You were going to make me go alone?’
He tries to hide a smile but fails. ‘Alone, no. You’d be with the boat captain and the other guests on the tour. A tour that runs every day, I might add. It’s totally fine.’
‘But I don’t know any of those people.’ It’s not as if I can cling on to some stranger in an emergency. What if I need to swim for my life and need a man with strong husband-material shoulders that can backstroke us powerfully against the tide? What kind of sharks swim these waters? Friendly sharks – are there such beasts? They’re not called apex predators for nothing. My breath becomes short in my panic. But the stubborn part of me will not admit to Xavier that I’m deathly afraid of the ocean and its inhabitants.
