Page 35 of Summer People
Good. I can handle mad, but the forlorn expression won’t do.
“Growling is the only way I know how to communicate.”
Like I hoped, her lips lift a fraction.
My stomach jumps at the idea that I could make her happy. God, I’m a sappy idiot. “Get used to it.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. Hands planted on the rock, she drags her focus to the ground between us. Instantly, she shoots up to standing and teeters on the rock.
On instinct, I dart forward and grasp her hip.
“It’s going to get on you,” she says, though she clutches my arm to steady herself, her nails biting into my skin.
Get on me? What the hell is going to get on me?
Frowning, I follow her wide-eyed stare to the dirt by my feet. “Oh. A fish spider.”
It’s relatively small—only about twice as big as my thumb. I shift closer and set the first-aid kit on the rock. Then I wrap an arm around her waist, settling my hand along the hem of her high-waisted black leggings. She’s got an irrational fear of the eight-legged creatures, and the last thing I need is for her to fall off the rock the way she tumbled off her dining room table the day we met.
Instead of shrugging out of my hold like I expect, she relaxes against me. As her sweet scent fills my nose, my body buzzes. Every nerve ending keys up at her proximity. I swallow, trying to fight the sensation. Fuck, I hate the way I lose control when I’m around her.
“Is it going to hiss again? Because when I was trying to poke it away with the stick, ithissedat me.”
The insane image of Libby poking at the spider with a giant stick flashes through my head. No wonder the little guy hissed.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “That was probably the issue.”
The silky strands of her hair brush against my cheek as she turns and locks those blue eyes on me. I have to fight the shiver working its way down my spine. Jesus, I swear this woman possesses some kind of magic that makes my body react. As I tuck the hair behind her ear, my finger brushes her soft cheek, and she still doesn’t pull away.
“No one likes to be poked by a stick, especially spiders. Next time try being sweet. Maybe if you smile pretty, it’ll move for ya.”
The words are out and her eyes are wide before I realize how flirty that sounds. I don’t even know what to make of it. I don’t flirt.
She shudders. “I hate spiders.”
“Ready to go home yet, Princess?”
For the first time, I hope she snaps back with a quick no.
She straightens her shoulders, taking the bait and pulling herself together. “Neither spiders nor mean grocers will get me to leave. Iamhome.”
My lips twitch, coming dangerously close to tipping into a smile. That is until her words sink in. “Mean grocers?”
Yeah, Doris can be cranky, but she isn’t usually outright mean.
Eyes narrowing, she lifts her chin.
Fuck, I love the defiance in her expression.
“Apparently the groceries I request are either ridiculous or items she can’t get.”
Items she can’t get? What the hell? Doris can order pretty much anything that the Hannaford mainland stores carry. Spider issue aside, Libby isn’t the high-maintenance Hollywood prima donna that the tabloids make her out to be, so I can’t imagine that her requests are outrageous.
“Anyway.” She huffs. “I’ll figure it out.” She glances back to the ground where the spider about the size of a silver dollar is still milling about, her body racked with another shiver. “Probably from this rock. Because I’m never getting down.”
“Never?” I release her slowly, and once she’s steady, I take a step back so I can look at her.
She eyes the spider again, lip caught between her teeth. “Never,” she confirms. “Please let Maggie and Sutton know that a spider is holding me hostage.”
