"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 graceto 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&J sandwich with some sliced bananas.” He opens his eyes expectantly. “Sounds really delicious to me right now. Don’t you think so?”
“If I had to choose something, I’d pick a grilled cheese and soup,” I say, not sure why he’s just staring at me like he’s waiting for something. “Wait, did you want me to make you the sandwich?" I ask, thinking that I must be misreading his cues. The fact is, I just arrived. I don't even know where the kitchen is, and I wasn’t been hired to prepare meals. For goodness’ sake, they have a cook. They don’t want me, I-burn-toast-for-a-living, Gina in their kitchen.
"That would be absolutely amazing. Perfect. How did you know?” He leans back and picks up his pen. “I’ll finish making my notes, and you can just bring it back to me.”
“Uh, I guess I'll just find the kitchen."
"Yes, dear. Sounds good." He starts writing and humming something under his breath. I take that as my dismissal and walk to the door and exit. I stand there for a couple of seconds, rub my forehead, and take a deep breath.
"This was a mistake," I whisper under my breath. I want to call Emma. I want to quit. I need to figure my shit out because this is not it. But I know that right now, I can’t break down or waste time calling Emma to bitch and moan. I need to find the kitchen. I will call her later to complain. Right now, I have to make this work because I need the money and a real story.
I look around and decide to go towards the back of the home. I head down the corridor and am grateful to see the openingto a large informal living room that faces the backyard. I head toward the windows and look out because I'm almost positive that I see the gardener again. I stand there for a couple of moments and look out across the large Olympic-size swimming pool. It looks like a resort outside, and I wonder if I'll have time to enjoy all the amenities while I'm here.
I start laughing then because even I know that that is extremely unlikely. I'm here to work, not play tennis and get a suntan. My eyes narrow as I see my gardener again. I watch as he bends down; 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 nolonger want the hot gardener to notice me. I want to be invisible. Because this man could unravel all of my plans.
CHAPTER SIX
Gina
My heart races, and I immediately take a step back so that Hunter can't see me. I don't even know what to think. I feel like I'm on a twenty-second roller coaster as I realize that he is on the Waverly property. Just like me. I don't even want to think what it means. I don't have time to analyze why I was salivating over Hunter. I hurry back to the corridor and close the door behind me. I look back towards the front door and debate just making a run for it. I have nothing to lose at this point, aside from maybe my job, but how long am I going to be able to keep it? If Hunter tells my new bosses that I’m a liar, wouldn't that immediately make me look suspicious? I mean, he met me in a bakery pretending to be in the FBI. Now, I am here, working for the same boss as him. That isn't going to look good. Plus, I feel even more overwhelmed. How am I supposed to do my job if he is also working here?
I am still standing there, debating whether or not to run out, when I hear a door open. I freeze and look up.
