Page 56 of Never the Bride
“It’s a thing at beach resorts. Guests use them to wash the sand off their legs and feet.”
“Don’t those already exist?” I say, unimpressed.
“Not like mine. Mine’s a little platform that you step on, and the weight of your body triggers it to spray your legs and feet without having to use your hands or set your stuff down. It’s really cool.”
“So you invented a car wash for your feet?”
“Basically.”
I’m more interested than I want to admit. “Where did you get the idea from?”
He swirls his next bite in syrup. “It actually had nothing to do with the beach and everything to do with growing up on a ranch.”
“You grew up on a ranch? So you’ve always been a cowboy?”
I hoped this was just a phase, not actually authentic.
“What is it with you and cowboys?”
“Nothing.”
“You have a weird fascination with them.”
“I do not.” I get defensive, immediately alerting him that I’m lying.
“Did you grow up watchingMan from Snowy Riverand fall in love?”
“Never even heard of it.” Yeah, right. Jim Craig coming over the mountain with all those horses and that dramatic music had teenage me swooning hard.
Hess smiles, studying me. “So then3:10 to Yuma.Gritty Russell Crowe. Christian Bale with a gun.”
Seen it. Loved it. Memorized it.
“Can we get back to where you came up with your foot car wash?”
“I’ll set this topic aside for now. But we’ll revisit your cowboy obsession later.” He pushes his empty plate away. “The idea for my business came because the bottom of our boots would get so dirty, and I hated bending over to clean them off. So I came up with the concept of a device that washes your shoes for you, but it didn’t really work for mud. So I adapted it for beach use, and it took off.”
“What do you mean ittook off?”
There’s a cheeky grin pulling across his lips. “I mean, I’m really glad we signed a prenup before we got married.”
I sit back against the booth. “I’m sure you are.”
“What about you? Do you really love your job as much as you say you do?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You work a ton of hours.”
“Says someone who barely works at all.”
“I work. I just choose my own hours.”
From what I’ve seen, Hess spends a few hours in his office in the morning, but the majority of his day is spent outside, being attractive—I mean, working—on his ranch in the hot sun with rolled sleeves so he doesn’t get a farmer’s tan.
I’m not even going to calculate how long I watched him from the kitchen window the other day while he threw bales of hay around, straw falling out over his body.
Camila!Stoppppp.
