Page 23 of Slumming It
Cheap forhim.
Not so cheap for the townspeople, especially afterward.
Sure, they got a few new restaurants and a bunch of converted condos along with a slew of new seasonal residents.
But so what?
In the end, the long-term residents – "townies" as the new people started calling them – faced crippling tax bills and the threat of property seizures when they couldn't pay up.
A few of those small-town families had become financial refugees inourtown. What if they were forced out yet again?
It wasn't right.
And I could stop it.
I blew out a long, trembling breath. "I don't mean a real bed buddy," I clarified. "I just meant if we were having a little fling – meaning a totally fake one – maybe I could show you around town without drawing too much attention."
He looked anything but convinced. "Trust me, we'd get plenty of attention."
This was only a semi-valid point. His relationship with Cassandra Bloom had gotten more attention than a royal wedding – or more accurately, a royal divorce, considering how it had ended, with lots of bad press and speculation.
Butshewas a well-known fashionista with millions of followers on social media, while I was a total nobody.
I forced a laugh. "Yeah, but I'm not famous."
"But youwouldbe."
"I doubt it," I told him. "But even if we did drawsomeattention, it wouldn’t matter. Not really."
He gave me a dubious look. "And why's that?"
"Because it wouldn't be thebusinesskind of attention. People would just think you're here to visit our beach or something."
His expression didn’t waver. "I've got beaches of my own."
The reminder grated. There he was, with plenty of beachfront properties already. But was hethereenjoying them? No. He was up here, circlingmylittle beach like some kind of sneaky vulture.
My eyes dipped for just an instant, reminding me that no vultures had abs likethat. Irritation made me blunt. "So, why are you here?"
His gaze hardened. "Why areyouhere, begging me for a job?"
"Hey! I'm not begging."Well, not yet, anyway.
"But you would."
"How doyouknow?"
"I can see it in your eyes." His flinty gaze probed mine. "So tell me. What's your angle?"
I tried to look casual. "Maybe I just want the experience."
"You don’t, so try again."
"But how doyouknow I don’t?"
"Because you reek of desperation."
Could he really smell it?Doubtful. More likely, he could read my face. As I tried to wipe my expression clean, I muttered, "Yeah well…youreek of the woods. So what?"
