“Handsome? Who says handsome?”
“I just did.” I rolled my eyes as I logged into my desktop. “I know what you’re thinking and trust me, you don’t want to meet the ass. The first thing that came out of his mouth was that all women are liars.”
“So, he’s handsome?”
“Very handsome, and very pissed off. He taught me how to snorkel when I was six. He was cute then. He’s handsome now and completely standoffish.”
“Hmm.” Jasmine chewed her lower lip and scrutinized my face. “Sounds like an opportunity.”
I ignored her by typing an email reply to a new renter.
“Koti.” It was a demand. I met her soft brown eyes over the screen. There wasn’t a trace of humor anywhere. “You’ve barely dated since you’ve been here. Don’t you miss sex?”
“I told you… I fooled around enough in New York. I’m happy with being alone. It’s what I want for the moment. And my angry neighbor is not the one to saddle up with.” She planted her ass on the edge of my desk and covered my busy hands.
“I worry about you. You are completely anti-social. No TV at home, what do you even do?”
“I read, I take long walks down the beach, I drink wine, I attempt to play the piano, and I get a lot of sleep. I’m fine.” It was the truth. The absolute truth. I’d found calm. I wanted to keep it.
“Fine, but a little flirtation wouldn’t hurt.”
“Trust me, he’s not the one to flirt with. He’s either yelling or grunting. Anyway, I spoke to Mrs. Kemp. She’s going to double our commission and cover the difference of the Margulis mansion.”
Jasmine perked up. “Really?”
“Yep, the only stipulation is that I have to keep an eye on him and it looks like I have my work cut out for me.”
Jasmine bit her hot pink lip. “Do you think he would… you know,” her eyes bulged, “hurt himself?”
I bit the edge of my nail and she slapped it away, it was a peeve of hers. “The way he looked yesterday… it was awful. But no, I don’t think so. Not after the fight I saw in him this morning. He seems as angry as he is hurt. He’s divorced, but his mother said he was the one who wanted it. I don’t think it has to do with his ex, but who knows.”
“Huh,” Jasmine said as she looked at me thoughtfully.
“He probably just needs a break. I’m bringing his groceries in a few hours and I intend to tread lightly. I’m going to make sure we get this commission.”
She lifted a brow. “Going to get creative?”
I shouldered my purse as she gave me a suggestive wink. “You are such a backhoe.”
I PARKED MY JEEP AS Banion came out of his flower shop to greet me.
“Hey yank, you still look fresh from the boat.”
“Liar!” I accused, as he opened my door. “I passed the one-year mark. I’m officially a local.”
“Yank-key,” he said, adding more charm to the word with his thick island accent. “What ya need today?”
“Three bouquets please, we have a busy day.”
“Maybe four?” He looked over at me with a knowing smile. “One for you.”
“Perfect.” Ushering me inside he began to gather the bouquets, taking stems from various buckets he kept in a small cooler. He had the roughest looking florist shop in St. Thomas but made the most beautiful bouquets. I always told him if I ever struck it rich, he would be my lone investment. He was highly underrated and undervalued due to the state of his shop, but the locals knew. And though I’d spent six summers in St. Thomas over the course of my life, I could honestly say I was becoming an expert at navigating the potholed pavement.
“When are your parents coming, yank?”
“Thanksgiving, I pray.”
“You have not spoken to them?” He peered at me over a handful of orange and purple stems. One desperate and lonely night when I had first arrived on the island and just gotten my job with Jasmine, I’d spent a few drunken hours with Banion spilling the events that led me to St. Thomas. He hadn’t let me forget the night of verbal diarrhea, nor the physical vomit I had christened the floor of his store with. Not my finest hour, or week, or month.