“Mr. Garrison.” Her voice is cool.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder. “It’s a warm afternoon.” She gestures lazily toward the sky. “I felt like getting a little sun.”
I glance around the balcony. “There are chairs by the pool. And several outdoor seating areas,” I remind her.
“Yes,” she says evenly. “But those areas are full of people.” Her sunglasses slide back into place. “I wanted some privacy.”
Then she tilts her head slightly. “Am I in trouble for being caught without my proper business attire, Mr. Garrison?”
The words are polite. But the tone is pure ice. The warmth from the other night is completely gone.
“No,” I say quickly. “You’re not in trouble.”
Her lips twitch faintly. “Good.”
I hesitate. “Though you should probably stick to more appropriate lunch locations in the future.”
She lifts her hand in a crisp little salute. “Yes, sir.”
I sigh.
This is not going the way I imagined.
“I actually came to apologize,” I say.
She lowers her sunglasses again and studies me. “For what?”
“For the other night.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “I shouldn’t have asked so many personal questions. I hope you didn’t find it intrusive.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Not at all, Mr. Garrison.”
Mr. Garrison. How many times is that now?
This is worse than I expected.
Before I can stop myself, I drop to one knee beside her chair. The movement surprises both of us.
The scent hits me instantly—coconut. Warm and soft. Like a tropical breeze.
My gaze drifts to the exposed tattoo, and for a reckless second, I want to reach out and trace the delicate script with my finger. Feel the warmth of her skin beneath it.
I swallow hard.
“Your hair is down,” I say before thinking.
Her face turns toward me. “Is that against the rules too?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s just … the first time I’ve seen you wear it down.”
The sunlight catches the strands.
“It looks nice,” I add quietly.
Her expression shifts slightly. Just a flicker. Then it’s gone.
I clear my throat. This conversation is spiraling.
