Page 26 of Perfume Girl
He grinned, holding up his picnic basket. “Perfect day for it.”
“Come aboard.” I waved him on.
A part of me wanted to believe that what we’d had was too special to be thrown away so easily. Perhaps today life would turn around for me.
And then I saw Embry hurrying down the boardwalk, her blonde locks flying. She had on a skimpy dress and high-heeled sandals, all ready to take on summer in a pair of designer sunglasses. As she caught up with Damien, she plopped a straw hat on her head and held it down as it billowed, looking windswept and happy.
In her other hand she carried an oversized beach bag similar to mine. No doubt she’d packed her sunscreen, and perhaps even a bottle of wine.
“Sorry, babe.” Damien turned to look at me. “We’ve been planning this all week.”
I needed to go out on the water, needed to escape. I really needed to forget these people. “I’m about to kick off.”
“You mean launch.”
“Launch, then.”
Damien glared at me. “Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“There are two ofus,” Embry piped up.
Her logic wasn’t welcome here and neither was she because this boat had always beenours.
My heart sank as I realized I was bound to lose this argument.
“Whoa!” Embry’s gaze widened as she took in something behind me.
Turning to follow her gaze, I winced into the sun and saw an enormous yacht gliding through the water toward us. Its size caused a large swell, and I had to hold on to my boat’s railing to keep my balance. Shielding my eyes from the glare reflecting off its sleek sides, I realized it was about to dock not far from me.
When I turned to look back at them, Damien was frowning at my chest. “Is that shirt meant to be funny?”
I gave him a sheepish smile. “A friend gave it to me.”
A wall of white loomed high on my right and drew my attention back to the titanic vessel anchoring beside me. Written elegantly along the side was the nameRiveting.
When my gaze returned to the unfriendly couple, Embry had weaved her arm through Damien’s. It felt so wrong I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop my chin from trembling.
The unsteadiness I felt beneath my feet was a metaphor for my life.
An ebullient crowd disembarked from the yacht. The well-dressed men and women hurried off toward the restaurants, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
Defeated, I scooped up my beach bag and jumped over onto the dock.
“You forgot your picnic basket,” said Damien.
I’d lost my appetite. “Keep it.”
“Great minds think alike,” said Embry, raising her bag.
I rolled my eyes and sucked in my annoyance.
“Raquel?” A luscious deep voice drew my attention away from them.
Astor Beauregard was standing on the dock beneath the high stern of his yacht, looking ridiculously gorgeous in his crisp white shirt and tailored pants. The designer sunglasses he was wearing hid the expression in his eyes.
“Sorry for the squall.” He offered a wave of apology.
