Page 64 of Javier

“Or maybe you can’t tell the difference,” he deadpanned with a grim face.

I made an effort to stay cool and calm, but it didn’t work very well. “Let me be clear. I’m not a nun and I’m entitled to make friends with whoever I want. As you requested, I’ve erased yesterday from my mind, but I’m not letting you walk all over me. I had a lovely morning. Are you trying to piss me off?”

“No.” He had the good sense of looking somewhat chastised.

“The Frenchmen are charming,” I explained. “You must’ve checked them out if they’re here. Am I right?”

He gave a reluctant nod.

“Then why are we having this discussion?”

“The French like to get Americans in trouble.” He grappled for words. “Think World War II and Vietnam.”

“For God’s sake, Javi. What on earth are you talking about?”

“History.”

“That’s baloney.” I scoffed. “The French people are nice, and so are Gerard and Pierre.”

“Can’t you see?” he spat between his teeth. “Those idiots just wanna get in your pants.”

“Really?” The breath caught in my throat. I’d suspected they liked me, but I hadn’t been sure if they’d been looking for more, if I knew how to discern that kind of thing.

Javier rolled his eyes and huffed at the sky. “Really.”

If Javier detected an undercurrent of attraction, could the new me could work with that?

“We played volleyball,” I said. “We told jokes. If you have to know, I had a great time today. We’re stuck here, so until we leave, I plan to take advantage of our stay. This coming from a woman who hasn’t had a good time in a long while.”

He lowered his head, seemingly off balance but only for a second.

“You want a great time? Fine. I can do a great time,” hemumbled, mostly to himself. He picked up my coverup from the chaise and offered it to me. “Why don’t you get dressed? You and I can grab a picnic lunch and go to the waterfall—”

“I already ate.” I snatched the coverup from his hands. I don’t know what irked me more, that he felt sorry for me and obligated to take me to lunch or that he implied I wasn’t dressed. “FYI, a bathing suit is all I need to go to the waterfall.”

His eyes caressed my body from top to bottom. “You call that a bathing suit?”

“Yes.” I eyed him closely. “What do you call it?”

“Dental floss,” he shot back. “It leaves nothing to the imagination.”

“Jesus.” I gritted my teeth. “How’s what I wear any of your business?”

“Because… it is!”

“Did the asshole bug bite you again?” I asked. “Or are you out to spite me?”

“Missy,” he growled in a low voice. “You’re pushing my buttons.”

“What freaking buttons?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Because I’m a mind reader?”

“No, because I’m a man and you’re a woman, and all the rest.”

“Thanks for that insightful lesson in gender identity.” I donned my swimming suit cover, snatched my stuff from the chair, and stuffed them in my beach bag. “It was all addressed in the conversation I was ordered to forget. And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to walk away from you before it becomes a habit and I call you an asshole again.”

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