Still Waters by Rebecca Addison

Author:Rebecca Addison [Addison, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: R Addison
Published: 2015-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Four

Hartley

After a fairly disastrous shopping trip in Caracas, Crew and I are bumping along in the back of an SUV on an unsealed mountain road. We’re on our way to his newest eco-village, and Crew has been checking his emails for the last hour, lost in thought.

I'd been in Venezuela for about two seconds before I realized that I had just arrived in the world of Miss Universe women. They were everywhere, walking past me in the airport lounge, touching up their makeup next to me in the bathroom mirror, throwing back their pretty heads and laughing with their beautiful mouths. The girl who sold me a Snickers bar looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue. They were universally tall and long-limbed, their hair a glossy black wave down their backs and their skin kissed by the sun. So when we visited some high-end boutiques in Centro Comercial Paseo Las Mercedes to look for some summer clothes, it was fairly inevitable that everything would go wrong. The dresses were not made for women my size and the fabric puddled at my feet. Tops gaped open accusingly, because when I’m in Venezuela I apparently lack a serious amount of bosom. The shop assistants sighed and laughed as they pulled out dress after dress, after dress for me to try on until eventually even they despaired of me, rattling off a string of sentences in Spanish that were too fast for me to get but made Crew’s mouth twitch in amusement. And of course, they were both tall, confident and effortlessly sexy. I couldn’t help but notice that they were both wearing tops that didn’t gape thanks to their very ample and very exposed cleavage. The more frustrating the whole situation became; the funnier Crew found it. Thankfully he ignored the blatant attempts of the shop assistants to get his attention, which must have been difficult, let's be honest. After yet another flowing resort print number that looked more like a tent on me than a dress, I gave up. I ended up buying some singlet tops and a couple of plain white cotton dresses from a store aimed at Tweens, and at the last minute I grabbed the smallest bikini I could find from a rack in a surf shop.

We haven’t talked much on the ride to the village, and I’m wondering if it’s because of what happened on the plane. I get the feeling that he’s deliberately not talking about the way I panicked when he asked me to fly to Costa Rica with him, but I know that we can’t avoid it for long. Ever since I left Jefferson, I seem to be making one impulsive decision after another. I should be back in Twin Heads right now, preparing a report to the Environmental Protection Agency about the samples from Bridal Falls. But instead I’m in another country, sitting next to a man I suspect is a little more damaged inside than he’s letting on.

“This

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