He jogged off to help with the tent setup.
I went into my house to finish preparing breakfast.
Ollie was wrong. No way, no how could I fall for a guy I'd met four days ago. I certainly wouldn't fall for a big-time womanizer who liked to strip in public to get media attention.
No way, no how.
Chapter Sixteen
Val
After breakfast, I observed while the other guests enjoyed a raucous game of miniten with the rules treated as suggestions and everyone laughing more than hitting the ball. Though the game was supposed to be played by two pairs, the Kitten Brigade insisted on having six players on each side strictly for fun. Eve had only four thugs on hand, so the other players took up tennis rackets. The Kittens lost to the Silver Foxes, the team name for the gray-haired guests, but no one seemed to care about the score.
Once the game ended, I followed Eve into her house. She'd announced to everyone she was going to make lunch. Considering she now had twenty-five guests to feed, she needed help. Of course, she wouldn't ask for it. The woman seemed to be allergic to admitting she needed a hand.
In her kitchen, she rounded on me. "Go back outside. You're a guest, not my sous chef."
"Don't want to be your sous chef." I looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I'm your slave, remember? I do your bidding all day and all night."
"Even if I made you clean all the toilets in the guest house?"
"Yes, even then." I considered what she'd said, then asked, "Tell me you don't do all the cleaning yourself."
"I do."
"Eve, you need to hire more people to help you."
She wriggled out of my hold. "I don't have the budget for that. Maybe soon I will, now that I've paid off the bank loan, but not yet."
"I'll give you the money."
She settled a hand on the counter and drummed her fingers. "Thank you for the offer. It's very generous, but I can't accept. I'm not a damsel in distress waiting for you to rescue me."
"This is help from a friend, not charity."
Her lips ticked upward at the corners even as they puckered slightly. She shook her head. "We're screwing, Val, not knitting quilts together."
I grabbed a spatula off the island, unsure why I did it, and clenched my fist around the thing. Maybe I needed to throttle something other than Eve. Most women begged me to give them money or buy them clothes, but she would have none of it. I thumped the spatula's handle on the butcher-block surface. "Why won't you accept my help? I have more than enough money. Let me share it with you."
"Why not donate it to a good cause? Kids with cancer or abused animals really need your generosity."
Though I studied her expression, I couldn't decipher her true reasons for refusing my gift. Well, I'd known her for a matter of days, and we hadn't discussed our pasts that much. Maybe she always disliked accepting financial assistance, but the fact she'd accepted it from her parents suggested otherwise. Maybe she didn't like a monetary gift from someone she'd known for a few days.
"Please," I said, "let me do this for you. If you won't accept a gift, at least let me invest in your company."
Why was I so determined to give her money? She wanted nothing from me, and I kept pushing her to take my gift.
Eve sighed. "My God, you're stubborn. I don't want an investor who's sleeping with me. Isn't that a conflict of interest or something?"
What was the point in arguing anymore? She would never accept help of any kind from me. Maybe that was because we were sexually involved, or maybe because she didn't like my past. An infamous man made her uncomfortable. I couldn't fault her for that. Not many women, except the ones who craved fame, wanted to get involved with a man like me.
Yes, I'd made this bed for myself. Today, I had to sleep in it alone.
"Have it your way,bebê," I said. "I'll leave you to manage on your own."
"Thank you."
I retreated to the outdoors where the other guests were engaged in a game of charades. Nude charades might sound sexy, but in fact, it was rather awkward and silly. Tits and dicks bounced while the players tried to act out various themes, and falling down meant getting grass and dirt on their skin and in their hair. I knew from experience grass and dirt could get into many places where a person didn't want it to go. Sand was even worse, but luckily, we had no sand in the field behind the guest house.