Page 26 of Catching Trouble

“Sure. The barista looked a little frazzled. I thought I’d help.”

Sophie gaped. “But this is… this is awesome. I don’t want to drink it. It’s too good.”

Chloe ran her hand over the tablecloth. “It’s amazing what you pick up travelling the world.”

I narrowed my eyes, tasting the coffee. It was smooth and bold—but not bitter—and with just the right amount of depth. I looked up to find her watching me.

She had a tiny smirk on her lips. “I hope you don’t mind that I took creative liberties with your profile.”

I looked back at the now disturbed froth, fighting the urgeto touch my nose. I’d broken it twice when I was younger, back when I boxed, but the local doctor had set it well.

I tipped the rest of my coffee back. “We should go. It’s getting late.”

After retrieving Chloe’s lily pad and Sophie’s book, we headed to the bar to say goodnight to Fifi. She was taking the order for a table of new arrivals. I raised my hand in her direction, then turned to leave.

Chloe loitered near the coffee machine, hand on the wood-topped bar. “Don’t we have to pay or something?”

I scoffed. “It’s my club. I don’t pay. But you’re welcome to stay behind and wash dishes to cover your fish head.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Sophie swept past us, her chin cocked.

“I don’t want to scrub plates. I’m too tired. Isn’t that what you pay other people to do, Papa?”

Chloe stared after her, and heat nudged at my cheeks. I lowered my voice. “I’m sorry for Sophie’s manners. She can be… reserved. And a little rude.” Was I describing myself? “Her life looks very different when she’s with her mother. Everything here must seem rather ordinary by comparison.”

Chloe slowly shook her head, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I hope you’re not including me in that assessment. Don’t stress. I’ve handled worse challenges on my travels. Though, in my experience, rudeness is usually a family trait.”

She gave me an angelic smile, then followed Sophie out of the club. I trailed her with my gaze, heart racing in my chest. Her auburn braids swung against her back, matching the sway of her hips.

Of course, she’d aimed her last comment at me. And yes, I could be abrupt. Rude even. I’d always been that way, but why did her words cut deeper than I expected?

9

CHLOE

Three days.

It’d been three days since I’d seen my boss for over ten minutes.

Three days since the little black kitten in the garden had officially imprinted on me.

And three days since my young charge spoke more than five words together.

Okay, maybe five words was an exaggeration. Sophie was polite, but frugal with her conversation. And Maxime? He spent most of his time fishing or brooding at the beach club. He only returned to the villa after closing. I’d usually gone to bed by then.

One night, I tried to stay awake, listening to an audiobook by the pool, hoping to see him. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to achieve, but I’d woken up somewhere around eleven with a dry mouth and an assortment of mosquito bites.

So, in truth, my only friend up at the villa was the little kitten. He followed me around the garden, even sneaking into my room when he heard me inside. I’d taken to leaving thewindow open, but only a crack. Bee safety. But he never stayed overnight. He preferred to escape beneath his bush in the garden.

Both Iris and Esmé messaged me, asking a million-and-one questions about my stay and my boss. I could’ve told them about the net, the shower and the cross face in the coffee froth, but I didn’t want to admit defeat.

Maxime really was as icy as suspected.

But worst of all? I couldn’t seem to thaw him.

He obviously couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me, avoiding the villa as he was.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I was effectively being paid to lie on the beach in paradise, with minor interruption. I’d transformed my pale base coat to a slight tan. Who was I to complain?