He twitches at my flippant tone. “Just tell me why you’re here.”
On second thought, it’s probably a bad idea to be mostly naked while I’m trying to convince him to let me stick around and help with the Sailfish. I should have worn, like, a pantsuit. Never mind that I don’t even own a pantsuit. Or that pantsuits aren’t waterproof.
“Poppy,” he barks.
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster.”
I suck in a breath. “Well...”
He fixes me with a look that promises another dunking in theobviouslyalligator-infested water if I don’t start talking. I straighten my shoulders. I can do this. I can make myself useful around the restaurant. Teach him a thing or two about building a social media presence. I rehearsed my pitch on the plane ride down, whispering under my breath until the woman sitting next to me was glaring daggers.
I take a deep breath. Curl my bare feet, rocking back and forth. “You know that thing you said about me angling for a job?”
Chapter 8
Champagne Vinegar
Jack
For a long moment, I just stare at Poppy. At her face, specifically. If I go any lower, then I’ll be face-to-face with a set of perky, lace-covered tits.
If she was anyone else in the world, I might admire the generous swell of them, but she’s Poppy fucking Winfield. Her father might’ve already fired me, but with connections in nearly every reputable kitchen in the country, he can make my exile to Florida permanent.
Her nose is a bit pointy at the end. She has a gap between her front teeth that I’m shocked orthodontia didn’t fix long ago. I force myself to meet her eyes instead. Clear cobalt, framed by thick lashes. My leg still aches where she kicked it while I was busy saving her life.
I scrub my hand over my jaw. “And?”
“And I am. Angling for a job, I mean.” She cocks her head to the side. Water droplets linger on her smooth skin. I grit my teeth, staring at the ridiculous towel on her head instead. “Hire me. I can help make the Sailfish trendy. Put it on the map.”
I bark out a laugh, looking around with deliberate slowness. “Do you see a help wanted sign?”
She crosses her arms. “I’m serious. You need my help.”
“I don’t,” I retort automatically. Despite what Douglas told meover the phone, I can’t believe that she’s here in front of me. In her underwear. Asking for a job.
“You do.” She takes a step closer. I get a whiff of her perfume underneath the salt from the lagoon. Rosemary and mint. “You’re going to do it, right? Reopen the restaurant? Show everyone what you can do?”
“I haven’t decided,” I lie.
“Really?”
I hate feeling off-balance around anyone, but especially her. Her eyes are large, nearly luminous in the sunshine. The back of my neck prickles. I put distance between us, struggling to maintain a façade of cool boredom.
“What happened? Did Daddy cut you off? Send you into the real world to learn a lesson?”
She adjusts her towel, which reminds me of a melting ice cream cone. “No.”
“A girl like you wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this if you had other choices.”
“There you go again,” she says, voice clipped. “Acting like you know me.” She lifts her chin stubbornly. “Are you going to let me talk?”
For the past few days, I’ve been spinning my wheels, covered in grime, stomach rolling with guilt. Sal’s memory, lingering in the restaurant. Tentative overtures from Ki that I’m not sure how to handle. Years of memories as I worked for Poppy’s father, only for me to destroy it in one fell swoop. Reopening the restaurant might be the best path to redemption—but admitting that aloud to Poppy, who thought of it first, sounds like torture.
I suck in a breath. “Fine. Go on.”
Instead of replying, she heads inside the restaurant. I follow, watching as she combs out her hair with her fingers and slips my T-shirt over her head. A frisson of heat runs through me at the sight of the shirt, however old and ragged, hugging her body. I push it away. I noticed Poppy’s beauty at her sister’s wedding, and again at the bar, but for whatever reason, she’s never been more stop-in-your-tracks gorgeous until this moment. She has the kind of face a guy would fight to protect, and that sets me on edge.
