“Very well,” Scarlet said, as if she weren’t helplessly imagining Mal’s—Mr. Moore’s—hand at her waist and the way he had smiled at her. A smug smile, she reminded herself. Which meant he thought he had the upper hand.
Which meant...
Which meant...?
Scarlet couldn’t make sense of it. Why come here? What did he know that she didn’t? She was scowling at Chef, she realized. “I’ll inform Liam,” she said, trying to pull herself together.
Everyone returned to their work and Scarlet wandered out to the restaurant before she recognized that she was unconsciously heading towards Mal like she was being drawn on a string.
She turned on her heel to leave and was caught instead by a guest who wanted to share suggestions for the amenities provided in their shower.
Chapter 7
Mal was not really expecting service at the bar when he landed there. After his experience at breakfast, he knew better than to hope for the friendly welcome that Shifting Sands had cultivated a reputation for. He was a persona non grata and until he had a chance to explain himself to Scarlet, he didn’t expect that to change.
He wanted to find her and get this conversation out of the way, but he had to admit that he’d been shaken by his findings at Beehag’s compound. A drink to settle him, and then he’d make a plan of attack. He took a beer from the cooler after the bartender’s brush-off and settled into a chair near the railing that looked down over the pool.
Two giggling young women were standing near the top of the steps holding diet sodas and a short man full of attitude was trying to hold a conversation with them.
“That dragon thinks he’s impressive,” he was saying, nodding at the glistening green dragon acting as a lifeguard on the beach. “But pound for pound, I’ve got him beat with my ability to cause pain.” He flexed a muscle at the nearest woman and she looked embarrassed for him. “Can you guess what I am?”
“No?” said one of the women, clearly not wanting to guess.
“Give it a shot,” the man coaxed. “First one’s free.”
“Snake?” the other guessed with a shrug.
“Not even close,” he scoffed.
“Scorpion?” the first one guessed with an ill-concealed eyeroll.
“Closer...” the man teased. When neither woman seemed interested in further speculation, he added, “People are much more terrified of me than either of those.”
The women made non-committal noises and looked around for escape. Mal considered stepping in, but they only looked uncomfortable, not afraid, and now he was curious.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Fire ant,” the man said smugly. “Most painful sting of any animal in the world.”
The women stared.
“Do you turn into a whole swarm of them?” one asked in morbid curiosity.
The man looked confused. “Er, no.”
The women exchanged amused looks and Mal could not help chuckling. While the man shot him an unappreciative look, the women escaped down the steps to the pool, their whispers and giggles trailing behind them.
Passing them on her way up was Gizelle, her hair in two untidy braids.
The fire ant shifter gave her a speculative look, but when the woman shot him a wary look and skirted along the far railing away from him in a very obvious fashion, he shrugged and went to the bar.
Mal watched Gizelle make a wide circuit of the bar, then creep around behind him. He was keenly aware of her as she circled him and finally came to stand tentatively at the table beside him. Her hands were shaking just a little.
“I remember you from the end,” she said, her silky voice exactly as Mal had imagined it.
The cryptic statement cemented a suspicion that Mal had been nursing, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
“You’re Gizelle,” Mal said gently. He was careful to keep his motions slow as he gestured to the chair. “Would you like to sit with me?”