I should respond to that comment, but don’t. Not everything deserves a comment or a reaction.
She grabs the tray from the desk and walks toward me. Our fingers brush as she hands it to me, and she pulls away, tucking her hands into her pockets. Then I see the slightest change in her breath.
“See you at six fifty tomorrow?” I ask, setting the tray on the table beside the lounger.
“Seven. On the dot. Have a great day,Mr. Banks.” Wendy takes one last glance at me before she grabs the towels from my bathroom. “I’ll bring you fresh ones later.”
“Thank you,” I offer.
She smiles, and I give her a small one in return. My heart does this stupid somersault thing and I know I’m in fucking trouble. Seconds later, the door clicks closed, and she’s gone.
The last half of my coffee tastes sweeter than it should, and the eggs are barely warm, but I don’t care. I sit in the chair and finish eating. Below me, normal people are on vacation, doing normal things, while I’m up here, thinking about a woman who sees straight through me. Within ten minutes, she delivered breakfast, made my bed, and told me to keep my distance. Wendy drew a line, and a stubborn part of me wants to cross it.
I’ve built a career reading people, and she’s the first person in a long time I can’t figure out with ease. Her body says one thing, but her mouth says another.
I clear my plate, listening to the seagulls and the waves. In the distance, someone laughs, and it’s followed by a bicycle bell. Then I smile.
Maybe being in Coconut Beach for the summer is exactly what I need.
chapter five
Wendy
Irush down the hallway, and I force myself to slow down. Halfway down the narrow stairs, I stop and place my free hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath. The smell of his towels is too much.
“Shit,” I whisper as my heart races. “I cannot do this.”
Once I regroup, I make my way to the laundry room. My body is still buzzing from where our fingers touched. The contact lasted seconds, but it was enough for me to feel everything.
In the laundry room, I drop his towels into the washer and twist the dial. The machine groans as it fills up. I’ve dealt with demanding guests before, but Carter Banks is in a category of his own. He’s a pompous asshole who has me thinking very bad thoughts.
No!
“Wendy? Are you in there?” Grandma asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, pulling several sets of king-size sheets from the dryer. Parts of them are still damp, so I flip them around and throw them back in.
I addrestringing the clotheslineto my rapidly growing list of things to do.
“Mrs. Hankers in Starfish needs two extra pillows. Firm ones.”
“Will do,” I say with a smile. “I’ll go now.”
Mrs. Hankers is a sweet, retired woman from Georgia who’s been here since Thursday. So far, she has apologized before every tiny request.
When I knock, her feet shuffle across the floor, and she answers with her reading glasses pushed up on her forehead.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Wendy.”
“No way. Happy to help. If you need anything else while you’re here, please let me know,” I say, handing them over.
“You’re a doll. I’m sure these will do. I’m used to those fancy memory foam pillows, so the soft ones do a number on my neck.”
I make a mental note to replace the pillows. She’s not the first person who’s done this since I’ve been back.
“I completely understand. Please let me know if these work out. If not, I have plenty more.”
“And that’s why I love staying here. You and Gale treat everyone like family.” She smiles.
