Page 11 of River
“Mhmm.” I didn’t even lift my gaze from the gorgeous fabrics of cashmere shawls I was admiring.
My fingers caressed a soft green one with an eastern pattern that drew me in. Picking it up, I held it to my jaw while looking into a mirror on the wall to see how it looked against my complexion.
The feeling of being watched made me turn, and there, by another shop across the street, stood a man looking straight at me. He was like a giant among the short local women around him, and with his sunglasses and weird bucket hat, I guessed him to be a tourist. Maybe he recognized me from the media, but from the way he stared, I racked my brain to remember if I’d met him before. He didn’t look familiar, but then I couldn’t tell his hair or eye color. His surfer shorts, sleeveless t-shirt, and flip-flops didn’t give me much information either, except that the man was in excellent shape and had a high level of confidence in not looking away.
Raising a hand, he smiled, and I returned his greeting with a tiny nod before I concluded that I didn’t know him and returned my focus to the shawls.
“If you buy the green one, don’t use it here.”
I turned to see the man now standing casually leaning against the entrance of the tiny shop, only an arm’s length from me.
“Why not?”
“Green is a forbidden color in Indonesia.”
“No, it’s not,” I said because clearly, he was jesting.
“Look it up.” He gave a small shrug and pushed his sunglasses up, revealing some amazing brown eyes.
I turned to the shop owner and lifted the shawl, signaling that I wished to buy it. A price tag told me the price, and I handed him the cash.
“Haven’t you ever learned that you need to negotiate the price down?”
With a smile, I thanked the shop owner and walked outside with my green shawl in a bag.
“Don’t ignore me.” The tall man followed me, and it made me look up at him as he fell into pace next to me.
“Thank you for all your warnings, but I don’t think I’ll get arrested for wearing a green shawl and paying the man ten pounds for something of this quality seemed like a steal to me.”
“You know he’s chuckling right now.”
“I hope so. I like my shopping to be a win-win.”
“Where are you from in England? London?”
His interest in me was flattering, but except for his impressive figure and nice eyes, this man wasn’t my type. His stubble was practically a beard, but it wasn’t styled. Not a single item of his clothing had any brand value. It was tasteless and looked like something he’d bought in a supermarket.
“Yes, London,” I answered so as to not be rude.
“London is one of my favorite cities in the world.”
I spotted Maximum up front and steered toward him. “Hey, Max.”
Max was holding a beach towel in his hands and was engaged in price negotiations with a local man but looked up. Seeing the large man next to me, he turned his body. “Hi there.”
“Hey.” The muscular guy reached out his hand to my brother. “I’m Noah, but people call me Parker.”
“Maximum.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“American?” Maximum asked.
“No.” Noah laughed. “I’m kind of a drifter. You’re English, right?”
“Irish. I know the accent throws people off, but I was indoctrinated to speak with a standard British accent as a child.”
“If you’re Irish, do you by any chance know Fleur Linden?”
