Page 41 of Love In Translation

Rheo waved her words away. “Oh, please, it happens occasionally for everyone, but more often with people likehim!”

Abi slapped her hands on her hips. “He’s a semi-famous documentary maker, Rheo. He’s not Bear Grylls, but he’s not a drifter!”

Rheo groaned and lifted her crossed arms to cover her eyes. “I know, I know!” She lowered her arms and pushed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “Okay, maybe my reaction was pure reflex, because it happened so often with my parents. Honestly, I was always shocked if the charge went through the first time.”

“I think you’re being seriously judgmental, Whitlock! Maybe there’s simply an issue with his card, and it got rejected. Shit like that happens...all the time.”

Yes, she accepted that. “But I also understand people who chase freedom, Abi. The people I met on the road lived a hand-to-mouth existence, and they paid no attention to their finances. All that was important was what was over the horizon. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t think we can be anything other than bed buddies,” she told Abi, ignoring the surge of disappointment flooding her system. “I could never be with someone who doesn’t have a backup plan, someone with no savings, who can’t budget.”

Abi’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, you aresucha snob!”

No, she wasn’t. She simply understood her levels of tolerance. She couldn’t handle someone who wasn’t financially responsible. Things like this hurtled her back to the insecurity of her childhood, as evidenced by her reaction to his card not going through. Fletch was a great lover, but he’d be a disastrous boyfriend or long-term partner.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she told Abi, not wanting to argue anymore.

They might connect on many levels, and Rheo adored her, but Abi didn’t understand how every cell in her body rebelled against her parents’ free-spirited way of life. To someone who liked coloring inside the lines, their—and Fletch’s—lifestyle was terrifying.

Nine

Rheo walked out of the diner and joined Fletch on the sidewalk. She clocked his rigid expression and sighed. He was still pissed. She felt her skin prickle and her hackles rise—maybe she had spoken out of turn and come across as harsh, but the the main reason credit cards didn’t work was because they were maxed out. It wasn’t like she’d suggested he was a kitten kicker.

Rheo turned to walk home but Fletch’s hand on her elbow stopped her. He pulled out his phone and waved it. “Give me a minute. I want to check what’s going on with my card.”

Her early-morning start was catching up with her, and she wanted to go home for a nap. Going back to work and putting in an eight-to ten-hour day was going to kick her ass. Her sabbatical had made her soft and lazy.

Fletch rested his back against the wall between Abi’s shop and the boutique next door and lifted his boot, placing his foot on the wall behind him. His fingers flew over his phone and Rheo went to stand beside him, a fair distance away so she couldn’t see his screen and invade his privacy. He punched buttons, cursed softly, and punched more buttons.

“Everything is fine. My card must be faulty,” he told her.

Rheo wanted to believe him, but she’d heard the excuse a hundred times. She would far prefer him to be honest.

Admittedly, with this credit card situation and his reaction, she’d lost a little respect for him. Relief rolled through her. There was no way she would fall for him now. This was an insurmountable barrier, and even if he had another occupation, if he was a banker or accountant or lawyer, she couldn’t fall for a guy who, in his midthirties, didn’t know how to manage his finances. Not that she’d ever had intentions of falling for him but, well, things happened.

“Jesus, I’m so close to calling it right now,” Fletch told her.

Rheo frowned. What did he mean?

“I’m not crazy about people who assume shit.” Fletch machine-gunned his words.

Oh. He meantcallingwhatever they had. Ending it. Rheo swayed on her feet. Okay.Wow.

She lifted her chin. “What shit did I assume?”

“That I am some financially challenged moron who can’t find his ass with a flashlight.” Before she could think of a response to his furious statement, Fletch thrust his phone at her and she looked at the screen. Her eyes darted over the information. He didn’t owe any money on his credit card. In fact, he had a far bigger credit limit than hers.

Rheo started thinking she’d grabbed the wrong end of a poison-tipped stick.Shitshitshitshit.

“Would you like to see what I have in my bank account?” he demanded, now properly angry.

Oh crap.She’d misread this situation. Badly.

“I can assure you it’s equally healthy. I also have long-term savings, a retirement plan, a healthy portfolio of stocks, shares, and cryptocurrency. I own a production company, Rheo. I’m not rolling in cash, but I make decent money.”

Damn.Fuck. Rheo wrinkled her nose and met his eyes. She could talk her way out of this by lying or changing the subject, but both actions were beneath her. She’d made assumptions. And a complete ass of herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she had no idea what else to say.

Fletch shook his head. “Not good enough. Do you want to tell me why you assumed I’m a deadbeat traveler with no clue about how to manage my finances?”

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