Thank goodness Maxime was out of bounds. Off-limits. Completely never going to happen.
But as a picture of him in his boat lingered in my mind, it was clear my imagination hadn’t got the memo.
10
MAXIME
Itied the last knot with a tug, pulling harder than necessary. With a sigh, I stepped back, assessing my boat. Faded hull, peeling trim and the familiar smell of salt and diesel that clung to the wood no matter how hard I scrubbed.
The irony? My boat needed a refresh. A lick of paint. If I was honest, so did I.
I’d been out on the water for two hours. The only things I’d caught were mackerel, a large mullet, and a plastic bag.
I ran my hand through my hair. My brain wasn’t on the job this morning. Instead, my thoughts were on Chloe. Her sunny smile and the way she stared at me earlier, all bright-eyed and defiant. As if she could see through my gruffness and didn’t give a damn.
I exhaled, slow and tight. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. About Sophie. About anything.
At the moment, she was making more of a difference to my daughter than I was. She actually spent time with her, even if Sophie was on her phone.
A stiff breeze swept across the beach, and for a moment, Icould hear Valerie’s voice in the wind—gloating at my lack of parenting skills.
Whispering that, even with the short time I had, I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, prove I mattered in Sophie’s life.
At the thought of my ex, something gnawed at my gut. I couldn’t shake the feeling she was watching me. Judging me. As if she’d placed hidden cameras inside the rocks. Or in the bellies of those infernal seagulls.
I could see her now. Sitting in some private control room, stroking the ridiculous Pomeranian she’d bought Sophie, waiting for me to mess up.
I ran my gaze over the sparklingwater. Maybe I should dive in and cool my blood.
I stepped back, ready to do just that, when a distant beat curled around me, carried on the wind. Squinting into the sun, I stared along the beach. Had the old fishermen on the rocks formed a percussion band? Were they giving an impromptu performance to charm the octopus?
Turning on my heels, I walked towards the sound, the low thump pulsing through the pebbles beneath my feet.
A few steps later, it grew into music—something poppy and suspiciously upbeat for this early in the day. Then came laughter.
I frowned. The only place with access to a sound system was my club.
Next came voices. Lots of them.
I quickened my pace, arriving at the beach in front of the club. The sun loungers resembled a ghost town. Though never crowded, the club usually had a few tourists laying under the umbrellas, enjoying the serenity of the sea lapping against the shore.
But today, nobody was outside. I pushed past the loungers and stepped under the blissful shade of the netting. Where was Fifi?
The music was louder now. Inside, the club was cooler, darker, and absolutelynotempty.
A gaggle of people gathered around the coffee machine. They were captivated, sitting on stools, some standing on tiptoe. All of them were watching intently, phones out, laughing.
I still held this morning’s catch. Dropping it on the floor wasn’t ideal, but neither was missing whatever madness was going on behind my bar.
With a sigh, I moved unseen to the kitchen, shoved the fish into the prep fridge and washed my hands. Running a cloth through my fingers, I took off towards the bar.
The moment I reached the restaurant floor; a roar of laughter assaulted my eardrums. Then came a high-pitched giggle. Sophie? Squaring my jaw, I pushed through the group.“What’s going on?”
Heads turned. I flinched, ambushed by a wall of smiles.
Like theatre curtains drawing back, the crowd parted—and there she was.
My nanny. Bent over a coffee cup, wearing nothing but her tiny pink bikini and one of the kitchen aprons.
