Page 93 of Perfume Girl

“Do you think he knows he’s leaving?” I asked.

“Maybe. They’re very perceptive,” said Garcia. “He’s probably picking up on our anticipation.”

I climbed down and rejoined them.

Astor was staring at me. I sidled up to him and whispered, “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I was just enjoying watching you.”

“Feeding the fish?”

He shrugged and then whispered, “Being you.”

“I’m always me.” I headed over to the sink and washed my hands with soap and water.

Astor washed his hands beside me. “Usually you’re a lot more guarded.”

“I don’t think I am.” I threw the paper towel in the trash and then pressed a fingertip to Astor’s chest. “You’re guarded. Bit of projection going on there.”

Astor wrapped his hand around my finger and gave it a shake. “Point at me again and see what happens.”

“What will happen?”

“I’ll throw you into the shark tank.”

I glanced over at Garcia and called out, “Do you have sharks here?”

He looked surprised. “Not right now. Why?”

“Just wondering.” I narrowed my gaze on Astor, who smirked.

“I’ll throw you in with the penguins, then,” he said. “Let them peck you to death.”

“I’ll throw you in with the octopus,” I said, amused. “Let him sucker you to death.”

“I’ve already been sucked enough.” He shook his head. “In so very many ways.”

I slapped his arm.

Astor dodged me and we caught Garcia smiling our way.

We toured the state-of-the-art facility with Garcia escorting us, visiting a sea turtle rescued after it had been found in the harbor with a straw embedded in its nose, now removed. We also checked in with an incredibly cute wild otter that had been abandoned by its mother. Another highlight was seeing a manatee up close that had gotten tangled in some fishing net and ended up dehydrated. He’d be going home soon, too.

I loved watching the way Astor responded to the animals with compassion and patience, and the way he chatted with Garcia, asking smart questions about their care and progress.

Garcia left us to walk over and speak with the other staff members. Through the glass window we watched a marine assistant feeding fifty or so penguins that were hopping around.

“What?” Astor had sensed me staring.

It was hard not to admire that gorgeous face when he was distracted, and it had been nice to get an insight into the person he really was. When I had first met Astor he’d seemed unapproachable—yet now I was seeing the real him.

“You’re full of surprises,” I said.

“Well, you can always trust animals.”

I stepped back.

He turned to look at me. “I meant generally.”