Hunter came over and stood next to her, but she was more focused on the three kids dueling by the monkey bars. They waved at her, smiling broadly, and then continued their sword fighting. Maybe they’d come over here and sword fight around Hunter’s kneecaps.
“The girl’s the best one in that group,” he said in an offhand way.
It was true, she was, but the fact that he identified that was grating to Mal. “Addie,” she informed him.
“Excuse me?”
“Her name is Addie,” she said more clearly. “She’s the daughter of Tom’s sister Karen, and her twin is Aimee, who currently owns the record for highest swing jump.”
Hunter chuckled, which was also annoying. And lovely, drat him. “And who are the kids on the monkey bars?”
Mal gripped her camera so hard she was afraid she’d break the lens off, but she adjusted it and focused on the monkey bars in question. “Trevor and Harrison. They belong to Courtney. And the little one is Olive. She’s a guest of the resort.”
“Did her mom sign a waiver?”
“Of course her mom signed the waiver,” she snapped. “So did the other five moms sitting at the picnic table.” She exhaled slowly, trying to force her temper back. “Shouldn’t you be golfing?”
“I hate golf. Boring game made for rich people. Actually, I’m just terrible and impatient. I’d rather be here.”
The unspoken implication of his words was more irritating than his sweeping assessment of the game being for rich people—as if he wasn’t one of them. She snapped one more picture of Olive, then lowered her camera to finally look at him. He looked impossibly attractive, somehow looking expensive in jeans and a white Henley shirt. Then there was the Rolex on his wrist, a class ring on one hand, and Ray-Bans hooked on the open collar. A rich man trying to seem normal.
“So, you own this place,” she said without any fanfare.
He stiffened, and his brow furrowed. “Who told you that?”
She raised a brow. “Sophie. Why, is it some big secret?”
He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I own the place, big deal. My dad inherited it, and we split ownership. I just recently bought out his shares, so he could go into retirement. What of it?”
His tone was defensive, and she matched his irritated expression. “Nothing,” she said with a careless shrug. “That just seems like something you would tell people.”
“Not me,” he replied, shaking his head. “I didn’t make this or have anything to do with it. I just make sure it stays this way—calming and beautiful and natural. It’s supposed to be a haven, a refuge, a place to get away from everything. And you think I should take credit for it?”
She rolled her eyes and raised her camera again. “I think you should be honest about it.”
“I was never dishonest.”
Semantics? He was going to play it that way? Of all the… She snapped two pictures and walked a bit away, snapping a few more. Sure enough, he followed.
“You could have told me,” she muttered.
“Would it have made a difference?” he asked, genuinely sounding interested.
Yeah, it made a huge difference. She swallowed and shrugged lightly. “Maybe.”
“So why tell you?” She could hear him smiling, which only made her more irritated.
She sighed, snapped three shots, then lowered her camera and turned to him. “I deserve to know who I am dealing with.”
The wind caught his hair and disheveled it just enough to make him seem almost human. “The same guy you were before,” he insisted, his smile crooked now.
“I don’t even know who that is,” she snapped. “Here I thought you were normal. You even offered to give me more normal! You’ve got more money than Sri Lanka, and you think you can pretend to be one of the regular guys? You’re filthy stinking rich, Hunter. You are one of the gang here.”
He frowned and raised a finger. “Don’t go middle class snob on me, Mal. I have money, and I can’t apologize for it. I won’t. Was I born to it? Yeah, but I’ve also worked hard for it. I earned my way to where I am. This place is all I keep of my family’s inheritance. Everything else I’ve earned on my own, and people respect me for it. I’m not some rich boy who runs to Daddy when he wants nice things. Nobody handed me scholarships for my blue blood, and I bought my first car on my own with money I earned from jobs, not from handouts. You want something in life, you work for it, however you can, with whatever you’ve got, end of story. You know who taught me that? My filthy-stinking-rich parents.”
She just stared at him for a long moment, mouth working. In a matter of moments, he had blasted her perceptions of him into smithereens. Her face was on fire, and she felt even smaller than she already was.
Okay, now her embarrassment knew no bounds.