Page 12 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

She backed another step up, right into the granite chest of Joe Cassidy.

“What have you done now, woman?”

“I didn’t do anything; I was trying to do laundry.”

Joe stepped around her, put a hand in front of his face, and turned the dial on the washing machine. It took a second, but the hose, previously animated with vicious intent, fell against the wall, limp and lifeless.

“Whoa, what a mess.”

“I’ll call housekeeping, ugh, I mean, I’ll get—”

“Towels, we need a mop and towels.”

“Mop?” Goldie was flustered, no question. She had temporarily forgotten there wasn’t a staff or a manager to deal with the issue.

“Stick with absorbent fabric on the bottom.”

“Ugh, I know what a mop is. I just don’t know where a mop is.”

As Joe continued to turn dials off, Goldie tried to turn on her heel and stomp off in a dramatic show of her annoyance. Instead, she slid on the soapy wet floor. She did not want to fall. But she was going down, no two ways about it.

Splat.

She was so embarrassed she’d have preferred to have died. She would rather have had a fall kill her than have to get up and face the infuriating Joe Cassidy, as he likely would laugh.

So far, Goldie had shown zero competence in their two encounters.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just fine.” Goldie reached for the door jamb and, this time, got up slowly, with care.

She was soaking wet. Again.

“Wait, you’re not fine.”

Clearly, she wasn’t fine. She was totally inept without Tally or Hollis. Ugh, Hollis.

“I am. Look, thanks for stopping the water.”

“No, I mean you’re bleeding.”

Goldie reached up and put a hand to her face. She touched her eyebrow and looked at her fingers. They were bright red.

“Oh, no! My face! I cut my face.”

“Let me see.” Joe Cassidy got close again. This time he gently put his fingers on her chin and tilted her face.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s okay. Why don’t you sit down there at the kitchen counter? I’ll grab a bandage. I’ve got a few in my toolbox.”

“Bandage? I think I need a plastic surgeon.”

“It’s tiny, hidden there in your eyebrow.”

This man had no idea how every little millimeter on her face had been tweaked, buffed, plucked, motion captured, and exfoliated. Over and over.

“You have no idea,” she said. And then she touched her eyebrow again. It was tender.

“I do. This doesn’t need stitches. It’s a little scrape. Stay still.”

He rifled through his giant toolbox, which was on the kitchen floor, and produced a bandage.

“I need to call my surgeon,” Goldie said.

“Ugh, okay, well, for now, how about this?” Joe Cassidy deftly opened the wrapper of a tiny bandage. On it was a picture of Cromagnet.

“I can’t get away from that guy,” Goldie muttered under her breath.

“Ha, yeah, my grandson loves those Victor Superhero movies.”

“Grandson?”

“Yeah, he’s four, had a Cromagnet on his cake.”

“Ah.”

“Sorry, so what’s your name?”

“You’re serious?”

“I am. Maybe you did hit your head harder than we thought. Not too complicated a question.”

“My name is Elizabeth Gould.”

She was in hiding, and if this guy had no idea who she was, maybe it was so much the better.

Though it was annoying. How did he not know who she was?

VSU wins again. If you weren’t in a superhero movie, your career was as good as dead.

And if you impeded the superhero movie, well, you were the enemy.

“Well, Elizabeth, you’re all set.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cassidy.”

“Call me Joe.”

“Joe, thank you for helping me. I realize this is a mess.”

“Yep, happy to. You seem to be accident prone.”

“I’m not. I’m just off my game.”

“Ah, okay, well. So far, you nearly drowned outside and inside. Maybe you need a lifejacket around your neck at all times.”

“I appreciate your help. But I’m late.”

For some reason, Joe Cassidy’s smirk infuriated her.

“Sure, gotcha.”

“And I’m going to be checking those references. I was told I would be alone here.”

“Ha, okay, had you been alone, you’d probably be dead. But check away.”

Joe Cassidy was done with her; he took his toolbox and gave her a strange look. “Don’t use the laundry again until tomorrow. I have to replace that hose. It’s old and corroded. That’s why you had the disaster.”

“Fine.”

Despite his annoying personality, Goldie found herself staring as Joe Cassidy walked away.

This was the second time she’d caught herself doing that.

She shook it off. She did have plans. That was true. She was going to have dinner with three of her oldest friends.

Suddenly, she was nervous.

What if they didn’t hit it off? What should she wear? Would they think she was inept, just like Joe the Toolman did?

Well, only one of those issues was really under her control.

She walked back to the room she’d claimed.

She opened one of her suitcases and selected her wardrobe for the night.

Even this, figuring out what to wear, had been outsourced for her.

In L.A., she had a stylist, a groomer, like a prized poodle, for any scenario where she’d be photographed.

Away from Hollywood, Goldie was coming face to face with the fact that all she knew was Hollywood.

The trappings of her fame had truly trapped her.