Page 7 of Paradise Found
“What do you call yourself?” she teased.
“I’ve got my list of pro tips. And I’ve got an expert on the other end of a landline. I’m practically local.”
She chortled, a sound that shouldn’t have been sexy, and yet it turned his semi-erection to a steel rod. Thank goodness the darkness hid his body from the waist down.
“Kama?ainanow, yeah?” she said with that singsong accent he heard from other locals.
“Kama, what?”
“Kama?aina. That’s what I’ll be calling you from now on, local boy,” she joked before standing up. “We have decent light for five more minutes. I’ll walk you over.”
She had a flowery shawl wrapped around her waist and water socks. He wanted to touch the delicate ankles that peeked out from under that wrap. Instead, he gathered his things and stood beside her.
“What did your aunt make us for dinner?” he asked. “You’ll join me, right?”
“That’s not what usually happens. I don’t eat with the guests.”
“C’mon, Oleanna. You’ve seen what happens when you leave me to my own devices. I get burned and lost,” he teased.
“And what exactly do you expect me to rescue you from when you eat my aunt’s dinner?”
He didn’t know her enough to be certain of her tone. Was she irritated? Amused? Guarded?
That was a nauseating thought, that she would feel remotely threatened by his interest. Axel was rarely this clueless around women; not since he was a teenager. With her, he was as lost in his head as he was burnt on the beach.
“Sweet barbeque chicken, a pile of white rice, macaroni salad, and, because I made sure she added it, a lot of roasted veggies. Does that sound good?”
“It sounds amazing,” he agreed. They were quiet until they got to the cottage.
“Food should be ready in an hour. Is that enough time for you to clean up? There are all kinds of snacks, though, if you—”
“If I wasn’t a guest, would you have dinner with me?”
She looked at him with widened eyes and a parted mouth. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Because if that’s the case, I’m checking out right now. Maybe Greg will let me stay in the van for the night. Consider the cottage guestless and have dinner with me,” he said, trying to shore up all the smooth persuasion that usually worked.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Is that a yes? Should I repack my luggage? I can move into the van before dinner.”
“OK, fine. I’ll have dinner with you,” she indulged. “And no need to be dramatic about leaving the cottage. I didn’t clean up today for nothing.”
“You cleaned the cottage for me?”
“Well, you were kind of a surprise, so it was, um, occupied. Don’t look so shocked. What’s wrong with me cleaning, anyway?”
Now he was sure. She was definitely annoyed.
“I wanted to thank you, that’s all. The place looks great.”
She blinked slowly and turned away. Over her shoulder, she called, “See you in an hour, Axel.”
“Where doyoustay?”
She didn’t hear him or didn’t bother answering.
It wasn’t until Axel stared at his ridiculously red torso in front of the mirror and put aloe vera gel on his rinsed skin that he grasped something.
