Knowing You (Cursed 2)

Now I'm freaking myself out, and am seriously regretting getting him involved.

Brendan could very easily be behind all of this. Maybe he blames my mother for his mother's death. It's hard to believe he didn't see my resemblance to her in the picture he has on his bookshelf. I look just like my mother when she was a teenager, even with her oversized sunglasses on. He wasn't surprised when I told him who she was--he already knew. Brendan's sought me out and has been messing with my head from day one, asking questions although he already knows most of the answers.

I can't trust him.

The door to the tower flew open and the sorceress appeared before them. She cast a spell to release Thaylina from the confines of the cloak. The girl tumbled to the floor, scraping her knees and elbows. She lay on the cool stone, awaiting the return of her breath.

I can't believe I agreed to this extra shift at the country club. Mr. Garner neglected to mention when he relayed Cary's request, and admittedly I didn't ask, that I'd be working from seven 'til ten, so that I'm back in time for my eleven o'clock class. The golf course is barely functional this early in the morning. Only the diehard golfers are out on the course. I come across some of them prepping their carts when I shuffle down to The Deck.

What I don't expect to find, is the guy doing laps in the pool. I didn't think it officially opened until like nine or something. I stay close to the side of the building to get a better look. Whoever it is, is taking it seriously, wearing a swim cap, goggles and fitted long swim bottoms, like they do in the Olympics--the only place I've ever watched swimmers compete. I admire the lines of muscle rippling along his back with each stroke. I can only imagine what his chest looks like.

I duck back closer to the building when he finishes at this end of the pool, sweeping the goggles and cap off in a fluid motion as he dunks his head under the water without allowing me to see his face.

"Lana?" Cary beckons.

I spin around too fast and crash into a stack of chairs stored against the building. I reach to steady them just as they topple over and make the loudest noise ever.

"Sorry," I cringe. Cary watches this entire disaster curiously. I can't bring myself to turn around to see if the guy in the pool witnessed this, but he'd have to be deaf not to have heard it.

I am becoming the worst version of Brendan. And failing epically.

"You okay?" Cary asks, helping me stack the chairs.

"Yeah, just humiliated," I admit, because I have the most horrifying curse in the world. Cary chuckles lightly.

"Well, I have the keys you'll need for the storage rooms and cages. Don't worry about liquor inventory. The bartenders take care of that weekly. Just the paper and dry storage. The charts list everything so you know what to look for. Start here, then go out to the ninth hole storage, and then finish inside the Clubhouse. You'll find several storage closets in the main building. One for paper products, like napkins and towels, and another for dry storage, like sodas and non-perishables. That's it, pretty simple."

He hands me a tablet and shows me how it's broken down by tab. Thankfully, it's something I can do half-asleep, because that's as much of my brain that's functioning this morning.

"Thank you for coming in to do this on your day off," he says

"No problem," I answer and watch him walk away before rounding the building to the employee entrance.

I slip the key in and open the door. I scan the storage room, deciding where to start. I've just begun counting bundles of hand towels when someone appears in the entrance leading to the service area.

I yelp and he hollers at the same time.

With my hand to my chest, I stare at Grant standing in the doorway holding a sports drink, in the same swimsuit as the guy in the pool. His bronzed skin is flushed from exertion, along his chest, all the way up his neck to his cheeks. And he's still glistening wet. My heart doesn't calm at the sight of him. If anything, the crazed wet hair and smooth sculpted definition of his broad, muscular chest makes it beat faster.

"Lana? What are you doing here?"

I can't speak. I open my mouth and my erratic pulse cuts off every word I try to form. Heat creeps up my face and fills my cheeks. I think I need to sit down. This is way too much to handle this early in the morning.

"Are you okay?" he moves toward me. I hold up my palm to stop him. "What?"

"I can't," I say shaking my head, forced to close my eyes to gather my stupidity.

"Are you having an asthma attack?" His voice is filled with concern. "Do you have an inhaler?"

I shake my head. He sets his hand on my shoulder. "What is it?"

I exhale and shake off his touch. "I wasn't prepared to see you half naked."

He laughs. "Are you serious?"

"Sorry. I know that sounds very sexist, but I really can't function with you standing here looking like that."

"Wow. I guess I'll go then." His tone heavy with amusement. "You're hilarious."