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She hangs up, still glaring at me. I wince. The only expression I should be putting on this woman’s face is a relaxed, happy smile – or a wide-eyed gasp of pleasure. This wary, frazzled look in her eyes? Not on the list.
“You don’t need to worry, I already took care of the Cash issue,” I tell her, moving closer. “He’s on his way back to London, and I smoothed things over with Robert, too. Problem solved.”
Hazel looks confused for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, it’s Lottie. There’s been some kind of food poisoning incident at camp,” she explains.
“Shit, is she feeling OK?” I ask.
Hazel sighs. “She’s fine, but her whole group is laid up vomiting from some bad shellfish. They’re cancelling the rest of the session and sending everyone home. But her grandparents are on vacation, and getting out here is so complicated…” Hazel looks frustrated. “She’d have to leave at midnight, and make two different connections. I know she’s mature for her age, but I’m not comfortable with her flying alone like that.”
“Of course,” I say immediately, thinking fast. “Where is she now?”
“Houston.”
“Do you have the travel schedule, for all the guests?” I ask, getting an idea. A bunch of people couldn’t make it for the full week of festivities, so they’re just flying in tomorrow for the main event. Hazel rifles through some paperwork, then hands me a stapled sheaf of papers.
“I could send Anna to go pick her up,” she brainstorms out loud. “But I’d feel bad making her spend all day on a plane…”
“She doesn’t have to,” I announce, finding what I’m looking for. “Robert’s got a buddy flying in from Houston tomorrow morning, on his private jet. If there’s room for his wife’s yappy shiatzu’s, there’s bound to be a seat for Lottie.”
“You think they’d be OK to bring her?” Hazel asks, looking dubious.
“Of course,” I reassure her, then make the call. “Dickie and Robert go way back, he’s happy to bring her,” I report, hanging up barely a couple of minutes later. “They’ll even send a car to pick her up from camp, and bring her to meet them at the airfield.”
“Thank you,” Hazel exhales, sinking back against the desk. “That’s a huge help. Really. Thanks. And for getting Cash out of here,” she adds, but there’s still a wary note in her tone.
I don’t blame her.
“I’m sorry,” I say simply. “I fucked up, and pushed it too far bringing Cash out here. You’re right, I didn’t think it through.”
Hazel blinks. “That’s it?” she finally asks, suspicious. “No justifying yourself, or arguing it wasn’t so bad, and that you meant well, and you did it for all the right reasons?”
“I mean, I did mean well, but it doesn’t seem like it matters now,” I admit wryly. “And uncle Robert always told me, apologies need to be unqualified, or they’re not worth a damn. So, how about a truce?” I hold my hand out. “I’ll stop trying to split them up. If my uncle wants to marry her so badly… it’s his mistake to make.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a catch?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me, and I have to smile.
“Well, a détente works both ways,” I point out. “You have to promise not to fix anything, either. No running interference, or smoothing things over if Avery has another meltdown. We let them figure it out, and if it’s meant to be… good luck to them. Deal?”
She pauses, her blue eyes assessing me for a long, nerve-wracking moment, before finally nodding. “Deal.”
We shake on it. Her hand is warm and soft in mine, and the touch takes me back all of a few hours: sprawled on that dusty floor in the middle of the jungle as the rain poured down around us and Hazel came undone in my arms.
Gasping. Moaning.
Begging for more.
Her eyes flash, and I know, she’s remembering it too.
Slowly, I stroke my thumb across her palm. Hazel swallows hard, her cheeks flushing pink before she snatches her hand away. “I’m hungry!” she blurts, stumbling backwards. “Are you? I haven’t eaten anything except that damn protein bar all day.”
“Come on, then.” I jerk a nod to the exit. As much as I want to sweep the desk clear, throw her down, and remind her that I can do more with my mouth than just put my foot in it, I also know better than to leave this woman hungry and irritable. I don’t know if I’ve done enough yet to repair my idiot moves, but I’m guessing some carbs will go a long way to help.
“Let’s go get you fed.”
I leadthe way to the hotel kitchens. The place is deserted, and I spot a couple of chefs on a smoke break outside under an awning, but I don’t go interrupt them. “What does the lady desire tonight?” I ask, throwing open one of the massive refrigerators. “We have fifty pounds of marinating filet mignon… fifty handcrafted salmon rillettes…”
“Is this OK?” Hazel asks, looking around. “Being here, I mean.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I reassure her, rifling through industrial-sized quantities of cold cuts and quiche. “We bought out the whole resort. Unless, you like breaking the rules,” I add, shooting her a playful grin. “In which case, it’s off-limits, and forbidden, and very, very bad.”
