Page 13

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I don’t think you should take that,” the shop owner says, laughing.

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I noticed. It’s a very stylish swordfish, no doubt, but I feel bad for your neck. Badger’s gonna hate it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have sent me to pick the decorations. The fish reminds me of summer. I love all those colors mixed together.”

She frowns and glances at my clothes. “But you always dress in pastels. Neutrals.”

“Because the colors are inside me. Like a secret identity,” I joke.

I can’t tell her the truth—that even when my mom wasn’t in prison, we didn’t have enough to buy clothes anywhere besides places like Ross Dress for Less .

And there, you grab what’s available, not what you’re looking for.

Only once did I strike gold: a pair of golden running shoes. The very ones I’m wearing now.

“Take it, then,” she says. “You’re right. If Badger didn’t want to risk something over-the-top, he shouldn’t have left you—someone with your...unique taste—in charge.”

If I hadn’t known Mrs. Araya since I was a kid, I might be offended, but she’s always made me feel comfortable with her bluntness. “You can wrap it up. That one, and the two royal blue jellyfish.”

“That fish is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” says a deep, powerful voice behind me, and even before I turn around, I know exactly who it belongs to. I memorized it this morning so I could replay our awkward encounter before falling asleep later tonight.

After getting totally stood up by the would-be buyer, I went for my run and came straight here—still wearing the same clothes I had on when I ran into that arrogant, gorgeous man at sunrise.

I turn around slowly, mentally ordering my stupid heart to stop galloping like a wild horse.

This man, aside from calling me beautiful, was nothing but a jerk. The cherry on top was his dry little piece of advice to be careful and not become a statistic.

So why in heaven’s name is my body reacting to him like I’m standing in front of a literal god, right after he insulted my lovely swordfish?

“It’s meant to stand out,” I reply, honoring the manners my mother taught me, even though what I really want to say is: “Why in hell do you care about my fish?”

“That’s not what you were thinking,” he says, and even though his face remains neutral, there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I’m shocked.

He . . . smiles? Does he bleed, too? Eat? Sleep?

Whew. For a second, I thought I had accidentally stumbled straight into Olympus.

“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 called The 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.

I have no choice but to turn and thank him, even though I’d rather bolt in the opposite direction. “Thanks. I’m kind of clumsy.”

“And you’re good at hiding what you’re thinking, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do I make you nervous?” he asks instead of explaining.

“Um...I didn’t fall out of nerves. I think your skin shocked me. Static electricity.”

There it is again—that almost-smile.

My God. This man is hazardous to my blood pressure.

He’s charming just by breathing—without even trying.

“I was judging you as someone who hides what they think and feel, Alexis. But now you’ve been promoted to liar.”

I choke on my own breath—shocked that he can tell, after only two encounters, that I’m acting ninety-nine percent of the time. “And may I ask why?”

“It wasn’t static. You got nervous when I touched you.”

“I gotta go.”

“Will you book me a table? My cousin recommended a restaurant—I'm guessing it’s the same one.”

“Judging by how you said goodbye this morning, I didn’t think you were the friendly type. What changed?”

“I’m not looking for friendship. I’m looking to eat properly.”

My face burns. “Right. Of course. Well, like I said before, the name of the restaurant is The Ugly Shrimp . What time should I make the reservation for?”

“Eight?”

“You got it. Have a nice day.”

“Why did you pick that ugly fish?”

I’ve already started walking away, but I stop and glance back. “He’s not ugly. It all depends on who’s looking. To me, he’s beautiful and colorful.”

“I don’t like colors.”

“Well, I love them. Good thing we’re not friends, then, Mr. Jasper,” I say, tossing his own insult back at him and heading off without looking back.