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I help my shovel sink into the tightly packed sand by pushing it down with my flip-flop covered foot. My arms are trembling and my breathing is labored when I lift the shovel to throw the sand out of the hole, but I don’t give up.
I manage two or three loads when a sharp, stinging pain in one of my hands forces me to drop the shovel with a pained yelp.
“Greer!” Drew drops his shovel and immediately comes to my side. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but it really hurts.”
“Let me see.” He takes my hand in his, encouraging me to open my palm with gentle fingers.
There’s a red, swollen area at the base of my middle finger, and it’s throbbing painfully.
“It looks like you got a splinter from the shovel handle. We need to get it out to stop it from getting infected. There’s a small infirmary behind reception. Do you feel like walking there by yourself or do you want me or Matt to go with you?”
“Great!” Matt grumbles. “So not only will the boss know that we put his daughter to work, but he’ll also see that we let her get hurt on our watch too.”
His tone rubs me the wrong way, and I snap, “I wasn’t on your watch. I’m not a child and you aren’t my fucking babysitter, Matt.”
He isn’t totally wrong, however, so I avert my gaze from those intense green eyes, feeling a little embarrassed.
Daddy probably wouldn’t say anything, but I can already hear Mom hitting the roof at the idea that I was hanging out with the staff and doingmanual labor. I don’t need another one of those talks where we revert back to 1950.
“I—it’s okay. I don’t need the nurse’s office…”
I immediately notice Matt’s little derisive smirk and flinch. Well done, Greer. We aren’t at fucking boarding school anymore, way to look like the child they already think you are.
“Okay, but if you don’t go get it taken care of by the nurse, we still need to get the splinter out. And Matt does have a point that your parents won’t be thrilled with this. I keep a small first aid kit in the kitchen under the sink. There are antibacterial wipes and Band-Aids. Matt, do you mind going to get it while I wait here with Greer?”
Matt doesn’t even try to hide his irritation. “Why should I?”
Why does one who’s so pretty have to have such a sour attitude? Last night he apologized for being a dick, and today he’s right back at it. Funnily enough, out of the two of us, he’s the one who comes off acting like a spoiled child and not me.
“Because if we stay here, no one will notice, but I can go if you prefer to keep Greer company.”
That pretty much settles it, and Matt climbs out of the hole, muttering a string of complaints under his breath as he walks away.
“Let’s go sit down in the shade while we wait,” Drew suggests. “My cottage isn’t far at all. The last thing I want is to add a sunburn to your injuries.”
He hops out of the hole very easily, and when he notices me struggling with it, he lifts me out by grabbing me under my armpits.
Our chests touch for a second, and I have to suppress an involuntary shudder at the contact between his warm, slightly sweaty chest and the thin material of my tank top. All I can think about is that kiss with Brady last night, and much to my embarrassment, my nipples harden, making me wish I had on a padded bra instead of my bikini top.
He takes a couple of seconds more than necessary to move away, but it’s more than enough for me to notice the green and blue specks in his gray eyes.
I also get a whiff of his scent. How is it possible that his sweat smells like cloves?
Please don’t look down and notice my nipples.
“Come on, Matt won’t be long.”
He takes my uninjured hand in his bigger, slightly rough one, and we walk in silence toward the staff quarters.
Greer
Predictably, there’s no one around here because pretty much everyone is at work, catering to the guests’ every need.
Drew walks toward the biggest cottage of the group, guiding me onto a shaded porch and inviting me to sit on a porch swing.
“Would you like some water?”
