Page 33 of Catching Trouble
Confident I wouldn’t run into any striped snipers, I skirted through the garden. Maxime was probably still down at the club. I’d seen him head down the steps earlier. He’d been scowling, dour, and devastatingly gorgeous in a white shirt. The crisp material sharply contrasted withhis dark olive skin.
Looking that good, I may forgive the pithy remark he’d made about the French toast I made for Sophie’s dinner. Something ridiculous about food groups and vegetables.
Fighting through the thick scent of flowers in the sticky air, I made it as far as the outdoor shower before a soft “Merde,” drifted on the air.
I froze, breath locked in my throat. Nothing followed. No footsteps. No movement. Just silence. And after nine heartbeats, I shook off my misgivings. It couldn’t be my boss. He was busy frightening customers down at the beach.
Forcing my limbs to move, I rounded the corner to the pool.The moment I met the soft glow of the house lights, my stomach flipped.
Maxime stood on the other side of the water, wearing nothing but his board shorts. He was bent over a large wooden frame, jaw locked tight, damp hair curling slightly. The frame was the size of a flatscreen TV, propped against the stone balustrade that ran along the terrace. It reminded me of a loom, like the one my grandmother used to make the endless parade of knitwear we got every Christmas and birthday.
I squinted into the dim light. What was he working on? It took me a few seconds to take in the little wooden tool in his hand, the coils of twine, and the glass of something dark on the table by his side. He was working on a net. And based on the crease between his brows; he didn’t want company.
With my heart thudding like a bass drum, I took a discreet step back toward the safety of the annex. Only, I caught my heel on a creeping vine. I stumbled into a deck chair, sending it scraping across the pool tiles.
I rolled my eyes. What was it that rendered me a clumsy mess on this terrace? First an attack by killer wind chimes and now, being taken out by poorly placed pool furniture.
The noise rang through the air like an eagle’s call—loud and screechy. Maxime twisted his head, gaze locking on me.
I blew a shaky breath. He stood in the glow of the kitchen light like some sexy warlord from one of Iris’s “shadow daddy” audiobooks. She’d made me listen to them all—wings, weapons, the very creative use of bathtubs and bedframes.
Maxime may not have wings, but with his glower and abs catching the light like a bronzed staircase to bad decisions? Close enough.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice low.
“I … couldn’t sleep.”
He shifted, his brows furrowing deeper. “Do you need something to help?”
I almost choked on my breath. Did I? How about an ice bath to cool me down?
He tipped his head towards his glass. “I have brandy.”
“Oh! No, no thank you.” A nip for courage would’ve been lovely, but he was being almost... reasonable. Friendly, even. The skin at the back of my neck prickled. Was this a trap? A test to see if I’d drink on the job. Technically, I wasn’t working. Sophie was asleep. But I didn’t want to look easily tempted.
“I thought I might have a swim.”
He shrugged. “Don’t let me stop you.”
I swallowed. Stop me? Even though it wouldn’t be the first time, the thought of stripping down to my bikini made my stomach twist. I wanted to turn around, sprint to my stuffy little room, and hide under the covers.
What was it about my boss that made me so squirmy, and not entirely in a bad way?
I moved to the side of the pool and put down my towel. He said nothing, just continued working on his net.
I willed him to speak. To break our silence. Sending a desperate prayer to the Archangel Gabriel, the patron saint of communication, I begged him to force Maximeto say something. Anything. I could almost taste the tension in the air.
But apparently, there was an airmail strike in heaven. Maxime stayed silent.
“It’s hot tonight,” I said, shuffling closer to the pool.
“It is.”
His gravelly voice swept over me, and I curled my hands into fists. He wasn’t even looking in my direction, yethis words melted over me like warm butter.
At a loss for anything else to do, I moved to the edge of the pool and dipped my toe into the deep end.
“The water’s delicious,” he said.
