Page 32 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“A ninety percent one?”

He laughs. “No.”

“Joel!”

“What? I wanted to treat you.” He gives a nonchalant shrug and walks through to the kitchen. “It’s stocked with beer and wine. Nice.” He comes back in and waves a Steinlager. “You want one?”

“Joel!”

He gives me an impatient look. “Will you stop stressing?”

But I stand there, unable to voice the anxiousness bubbling inside me. Eventually, as he opens the beer, he walks into the living room. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve spent twenty thousand dollars on staying here this week?”

“It’s my money. I can spend it on whatever I like.”

But I stand there, resentment and anxiety tightening my throat, the words stuck behind my teeth like boulders against metal railings.

He studies me for a moment. Then he puts down his beer and comes to stand on the other side of the coffee table, hands on his hips. “Spit it out, Zo.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” I say stiffly. “But it’s not going to happen.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell me a guy is going to spend such a significant amount of money on a girl and not expect something in return?”

“A thank you might be nice.”

“Joel!”

He stares at me. Then he says, “You think I’ve done this because I hoped it’ll guilt you into sleeping with me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.” He looks a mixture of alarmed and exasperated. I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so upset.

I rub my nose. “That wasn’t the reason?”

“Zoe!” he exclaims, appalled. “Of course it wasn’t the reason. When… how…” He waves a hand around, agitated. “Why did you develop this opinion of me?”

I hesitate, feeling the first twinges of shame. “It’s not an opinion of you, particularly. More of men in general.”

“Are we talking about Charlemagne?”

“He was just the last in a long line.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “Well that’s not what I’m like. We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve been friends for years. I know you’re on a tight budget, and I thought you’d enjoy a little luxury.”

I’ve joked often about there being too much month left at the end of the money. Fraser pays me a decent wage at the museum, but after the rent and other bills, and the fact that I sometimes give my siblings a few dollars to help them out, I rarely have much left.

It’s his turn to hesitate then. “And I know you used to go with him to nice restaurants and hotels. So I didn’t want to take you to a rundown B&B.”

He’s talking about Charles again. He would sometimes invite me to travel with him around the country when he went to a conference, but it was rarely romantic. “Joel, I’ve onlyever stayed in standard rooms, and I’ve been with other guys who’ve asked me in restaurants to choose between a starter and a dessert to keep the price down. I’ve never been anywhere like this.”

“Good.” He looks satisfied. “Well, you should enjoy the meal tonight, then.”

“Where’s the restaurant?”

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