her head a charming smile. “Of course. My pleasure. And for you?” I asked, turning my attention to the blonde.
“An açaí bowl. But make sure to leave the strawberries off. They make me break out in hives.” She lowered her Chanel sunglasses, eyeing me over the top of the tortoise frames. “Last time I think you missed one. I felt itchy later.”
Sounds like a personal problem, likely unrelated to strawberries, I didn’t say.
She glared at me accusingly as if I’d deliberately planted said strawberry in the middle of her açaí bowl in a calculated effort to sabotage her flawless skin with an unsightly rash. My smile tightened as I worked to hold on to it. “I am so sorry,” I said sweetly. “I’ll double-, triple-check that there are no strawberries on or near your order.”
“Good,” she said, turning away as Gage shook his perfect dark hair, sweat flying out around him as he ran toward the net to shake his partner’s hand. He’d won. Of course he’d won.
He was the best.
I sighed, turning away, and began gathering the ingredients for the two orders. I heard the girls whispering animatedly to each other, the inflection in their tones telling me they were gossiping. I didn’t bother to attempt to listen in. I didn’t care what they were talking about. This club was filled with a hundred more just like them. Rich, entitled brats who thought those who worked here were solely valuable for their ability to meet their every demand.
That was the thing about Gage Buchanan. He was different. He wasn’t only gorgeous. Perfect. The best. He was kind. He had impeccable manners, his smile was sincere. He looked everyone in the eye when they spoke to him, and didn’t talk down to anyone. Even me, the out-of-towner working at the smoothie bar. I didn’t know too much else about him—other than he was a member of the exclusive golf and tennis club where I was working for the summer—but that was enough.
I set the smoothie and strawberry-free açaí bowl in front of the girls, added the orders to their tabs, and began wiping down the counter I’d just used, when the brunette said, “This summer is going to be awesome. Especially since Gage is single.”
Okay, now this I wanted to hear. My heart fluttered. Single. I moved the cleaning cloth slowly along the counter, craning my ears to listen in. Gage was single. Hmm. I paused in my cleaning. Even if he noticed me, it wasn’t like he and I could be anything long-term—I was only passing through this lake town—but what was wrong with a summer fling? What was wrong with finding happiness—even temporarily—with a gorgeous, kind, single man?
Nothing, that’s what.
Being on the road wasn’t always conducive to flings. Or maybe it’d been my state of mind. In any case, it’d been a long, dry spell.
“I heard Travis is single suddenly too.”
Ugh, Gage. Keep talking about Gage.
“Really?” the other girl practically breathed. “I thought for sure he was off the market permanently.”
“No, I don’t know what happened, but the rumor is someone cheated.”
The other girl snorted inelegantly. “We don’t have to wonder who cheated. Phoebe worships him even if he did fall about ten slots socially when he lost Pelion.”
“Yup. Apparently Phoebe left town to visit her sister in Florida. My guess is she’s completely brokenhearted and there to recover. At least she’ll come back with a killer tan.”
“Megs! Chelsea!” a girl in a tiny black bikini across the way called, raising her hand and waving wildly to the two at my counter.
They grinned and waved back, the blonde named Megs muttering under her breath, “God, she’s such a bitch. And she’s gained at least twenty pounds since last summer.” After a small snicker, she called, “Hey sweetie! Look at you! You look amazing, doll. Be right over.”
God, I strongly disliked other girls who made me strongly dislike other girls. The two gathered their things, got up, and pranced toward their “friend.”
I sighed, turning back to the prep station and picking up the blender I’d just used. I took it to the small sink at the end of the counter.
“Water, please.”
I turned around, my gaze landing on a dark-haired man just sitting down, his head turned, eyes somewhere in the distance, fingers snapping in the air.
Fingers . . .
. . . snapping in the air.
At me.
To fetch him a water.
I growled softly under my breath, plastering a smile on my face and heading his way.
My, but this club was