“How do you know that?” I ask.
“I get the feeling you’re always a good girl. You only say what you think people want to hear.”
“That wasn’t very polite. The way you said it made it sound like you’re accusing me of pretending to be someone I’m not. Maybe I am a good girl. A saint, even,” I say, sarcasm thick in my voice, though honestly, it’s kind of true. If he knew how interesting my life is—on par with watching snails race—he’d laugh out loud.
If he’s like the other millionaires who flock to Cape Cod, he’s probably constantly surrounded by glamor and chic parties. The closest I’ve ever come to luxury is watching the Oscars—and even then, I spend the next few days wanting to check into the hospital just to borrow a ventilator. It’s the only way I can recover from the breathlessness of learning that some of those gowns cost more than my and my mom’s combined yearly income.
“Here you go, Alexis,” Mrs. Araya says, returning from the back with my purchases, only to freeze when she spots the man standing next to me. Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, and for a second, I fear she might try to pinch him just to make sure he’s real.
We get plenty of rich folks in the towns nearby—but not billionaires who look like sexy underwear models.
“Olympus effect,” I mutter, thinking I said it just to myself, but when I feel Jasper’s gaze, I realize in horror that I said it out loud.
Flustered and burning with embarrassment, I reach for the money tucked into the waistband of my shorts, only to drop it on the floor. I bend down to grab it, but he does the same, and for a second, our fingers touch.
The jolt of electricity that shoots through me is so strong I fall flat on my butt.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
No. No woman with blood in her body and a beating heart can be “okay” around you, sir. Have you looked in the mirror today?
“Yes.”
And just like that, he switches from arrogant god to charming gentleman. Jasper stands and helps me up like I’m some delicate lady from a century ago.
“What happened?” Mrs. Araya asks, nearly jumping over the counter, her face alight with curiosity.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Here. Can you put it under Badger’s name, please?”
She takes the money, and I pretend to be looking ahead—even though every cell in my body is focused on him.
“Who’s Badger?” the not-so-stranger asks beside me.
I’m sorely tempted to say he’s my boyfriend, just to salvage a shred of dignity—because I’m sure he’s noticed the effect he has on me.
I open my mouth, the harmless little lie right there on the tip of my tongue, but Mrs. Araya beats me to it, handing me the change.
“Her boss. And the owner of the best restaurant in town. Actually, I have no doubt he’ll soon own the best restaurant in the state.”
“And how do I get a reservation at your restaurant, Alexis?”
“You two know each other?” the shopkeeper asks, and I can practically hear her gossip radar buzzing.
God!
“Just call,” I say, grabbing my change and my bags and making a beeline for the door. “It’s calledThe Ugly Shrimp.”
“Yes, just call, sir...” I hear her say behind me, probably hoping he’ll introduce himself.
I don’t stick around to find out whether he does.
Outside, I trip, because of course the universe doesn’t think I’ve been humiliated enough for one morning. I don’t fall again, though—because a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against a hard chest.
“Careful.”
The warning, whispered in my ear, sends a shiver through every inch of me.
He lets me go slowly, much more slowly than what would be considered socially appropriate.
