A year with the billionaire

Donald I KNOW I SHOULDN'TSTARE. That I should carry on walking as if I haven't seen anything and pretend like I have. But I can't seem to take my eyes off of it. I, too, find it hard to believe what my eyes are showing me. My grandmother's newest foster child, Amanda Evans, is currently going for a swim. I understand that it is hot, and the heatwave this summer has been especially punishing, but a swim...in the loch? I have been going to the castle on an annual basis for the past twenty years (and counting), but I have never once entertained the idea of even putting one foot inside, let alone diving in headfirst. It's not like I should be surprised. Because I've talked to enough of Gran's foster kids, I know to always be prepared for the unexpected. Nevertheless... She can't be that much younger than me, but the way she conducts herself places her in a different realm, and I'm completely captivated by it. My anxiety over the possibility of having to swim to her aid and rescue her begins to subside as I watch her gracefully navigate the water despite the fact that she is wearing a lot of clothing. Even less of that can be found, if that gives you any indication. She was only wearing a plain white T-shirt and denim shorts, and she had left her sneakers at the end of the shaky wooden dock. I walk down to the edge of the river, watch the sun dance across the rippling water that she has created, and get the strongest yearning to join her. But I don't have any of that wildness in me... And then she turns, and her beautiful blue eyes clash with mine, their flecks of gold glinting up at me as they widen, her cry getting drowned out by the water crashing all about her. Now it's possible that she needs to be rescued... As her countenance brightens, her motions become more controlled, and the broadest of smiles breaks out on her face, my heart flutters in my chest and refuses to calm down. "You had to be Donald, right?" Her voice can be heard throughout the loch, although it is difficult to place her accent. It's not quite English, and it's not exactly Scottish, either. A commingling of ideas, if you will. "Yep, that's me." I try to clear my throat, which is feeling peculiarly constricted. "Gran asked me to let you know that dinner will be served in thirty minutes," I told her. Despite the fact that she is treading water, she tilts her head to the side. "One quarter of an hour. Got it.' I shift my weight from one foot to the other, and although I can feel the weight of her gaze, I can't seem to find the will to leave. After completing my mission, it is time for me to leave. On the contrary, I frequently find myself inquiring. "Do you have a towel that I could go get for you...?" Because it is impossible for her to truly intend to walk back inside the home while her clothes are drenched. "Or some clean clothes?" Her laughter may be heard. "Does it appear as though I came ready for this?" She has you where she wants you... "Not really," the speaker replied. Her unplanned actions fascinate me despite the fact that they are foreign to me. But I'm not entirely certain that you want to be trudging back through the castle while leaving puddles in your wake. I take a step back as she gets closer to us, but she continues to get closer. "Don't worry...the sun will dry me off in a short amount of time," she said. When she reaches for the rungs of the makeshift ladder at the edge of the dock, I realize that she is about to get out of the water despite the fact that her top is so see-through that she might as well be naked. I spin on my heel and pull my sweater off of my shoulders, eager to give her something—anything—to prevent me from seeing more than I should be able to see. You are free to make use of this at any time. I give it to her without turning around, my brain working overtime as it persists in painting a picture that I do not want to see—of her clothes clinging to every curve of her body, her smile being bright, and her eyes being full of sparkle... Recent events in my life are to blame for my extreme reaction. There is a reason why this idiom exists: "all work and no play." I have been so preoccupied with my studies for such a long time that I have forgotten that there is a world beyond the walls of my university dormitory. Coming here is supposed to be a vacation from it all, an opportunity to let off steam, which is something that this Amanda seemed to be pretty skilled at doing. I feel an intense feeling of jealousy coming on, but it is stopped short by her unexpected laughing, which encourages me to turn around even though I won't do so until she has covered herself up. 'You're quite the gentleman.' My hand accidentally falls into hers as I try to hold onto the jumper. ‘I try.’ I clear my throat as my ears become attuned to the sound of water trickling over the wooden boards, and I see her wringing out her soaked blouse and shaking off her short blonde hair. Even the tiniest droplet manages to catch on my arm, and as it travels down my arm, goosebumps begin to tickle beneath its path. "Are you going to stand there until the end of time?" ‘Huh?’ Now I turn and look and... What the...? I give a disbelieving cough. ‘I didn’t mean for you to sit on it.’ ‘Oh...’ She looks down at where my sweater is stretched out beneath her, her palms pressed into the delicate cashmere, her wet denim-clad behind too. ‘Sorry.’ She winces up at me. ‘Would you like it back?’ ‘Would I...?’ I’m unable to finish. My head is shaking as my lips twist up into a smile—the first genuine smile I’ve felt in ages. ‘No. No, I don’t want it back.’ ‘Good.’ She grins once more, her eyes going back to the view. The sun lights her up from top to toe, beads of water leaving glistening trails over her bare skin that my eyes are keen to follow. My throat tightens further, my chest too. Is she doing it on purpose? I tug my gaze back to her face, to where her lashes create dark crescents over her high cheekbones, and she breathes in deep. She acts like she hasn’t a care in the world, but that can’t be true. As my mother always says, Gran’s foster children come with enough baggage to sink a ship. You steer clear—well clear. ‘Want to join me?’ She doesn’t open her eyes as she says it and I look away, to the far less provocative horizon, and tell myself to walk away, to reset the unfamiliar buzz she’s sparked in my veins. But I don’t want to. There’s an ease about her, an ease that’s also wild and unfettered, and I want to stay in its orbit just a little longer. I contemplate going back inside, being robbed of her presence, which is as warm as the sun itself, and my blood runs cold. She’s Amanda through and through, and I lower myself to the dock before my common sense dictates otherwise. ‘Was it so hard to decide?’ she murmurs, ripe with teasing. Teasing that has the smile returning to my lips as I rack my floundering brain for a slick retort. I’m not usually this inept with the opposite s*x, but then... I’ve never met a girl quite like her. She turns away to rummage inside her shoe, draws out a cigarette. ‘Want one?’ I screw my face up, the magic somewhat dampened. ‘No. Thank you.’ ‘It’s only been in my trainer for a minute or two.’ ‘It’s not the trainer I object to.’ ‘Ah...’ She c***s a brow. ‘So it’s the smoking. Not the done thing in your hoity-toity circles, hey?’ I know she’s mocking me; I can see it in her eyes as she catches the cigarette between her teeth and pulls out a lighter. ‘Suit yourself.’ She sparks it up as I watch on—fascinated, disgusted, amazed... ‘You know Gran doesn’t approve, right?’ Is that really my voice? So gravel-like and hoarse? And why can’t I tear my eyes from her lips? The plump bed on which the cigarette rests and the perfect cupid’s bow above...all luscious and pink. She takes a slow puff, wets her lips to torment me further. ‘Not my problem.’ A defiant fire comes alive behind her eyes, warring with her relaxed ease and I frown, uncaring that I can see the black outline of her bra through the clinging white T-shirt—who wears black under white anyway? Someone who doesn’t like to conform...a rebel... And heaven knows Gran has seen her fair share of them over the years. Seems Summer is no exception. ‘You’re living under her care, under her roof, don’t you think that makes it your problem?’ She meets my gaze, all steel and ice, and then her eyes trail over me as though she’s seeing me properly for the first time and her lips quirk, her eyes warm. ‘Are you going to discipline me?’ I bite back a curse, smother the excited kick to my gut—Definitely a rebel and definitely trouble with a capital T. Is she toying with me? Mocking me some more? The public schoolboy, born and bred. Not a hair out of place, my chinos and pale blue polo shirt perfectly pressed... Or is she genuinely flirting, liking what she sees? Whatever the case, there’s no answer I can give. None that feels safe and correct. And I’m all about that. My silence has her laughing softly, releasing me from her provocative stare as she looks to the water and flicks it with her toes. ‘How long are you stopping for?’ It takes me a second to trust my voice, another to form a response. ‘Didn’t Gran say?’ ‘Nope.’ She settles back on her elbows, stretching her body out languorously, and I’m caught up in her, my brain and voice silenced by the heat that rushes into my veins. I forget myself, forget what we’re talking about, and too late, she’s caught me looking where I shouldn’t. Heat streaks my cheeks, my pulse pounds... Not that she cares. She’s revelling in it. Her breathless chuckle is all flirtatious, the nip she gives the corner of her mouth even more so. Speak, you fool, before she labels you as one. ‘September. I’m staying until September. When term starts up again.’ ‘Edinburgh Uni, right?’ I nod and she gives a low whistle, her gaze raking back over me. Her own pulse flickers in her throat as her eyes darken. I know that look. I know it and I want to act on it. The urge burns through me even as I acknowledge that it’s a line I should not cross...even if it’s a line she has probably crossed herself many times over. ‘So...’ she breaks the heated silence, rakes her teeth over her lower lip ‘...we have the entire summer together. How fun.’ Swallow. Speak.‘You think so?’ ‘Don’t you?’ Her eyes collide with mine and images dance through my mind. Wrong. Tempting. Crazy. It’s like she’s projecting her idea of fun at me—but her kind of fun and my kind of fun are not one and the same. Maybe they should be, the devil on my shoulder argues. She gives a soft hmm. ‘You know, my stay here just got a whole lot better.’ I focus on her words and not the heat she’s stirring up. ‘You sound like it’s just a fleeting visit for you?’ She shrugs, but there’s an edge to it, an awkwardness that doesn’t fit with her confidence. ‘It always is.’ I don’t contradict her. I don’t tell her that Gran’s track record of long-term fostering says otherwise. I’ll let her believe what she wants to believe until life proves otherwise. She turns to me then, a curious look in her eye. I wait for her to say something, but nothing comes. Instead her blue eyes draw me in, deeper and deeper still, until I can’t quite catch my breath and I’m forced to break her spell. ‘What?’ She smiles, her eyes alight with it. ‘We really are chalk and cheese, you and I.’ I give a tight laugh. ‘That’s one way to put it.’ ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ ‘No, not bad...’ Risky. Because she intrigues me, fascinates me. To the point that my body is overriding my good sense and all the warning signs telling me to keep her at a safe distance. ‘What, then?’ I smile as I find my voice, my mind made up. ‘Well, to use your phrase, it either makes me as dry as chalk or as pungent as cheese, and personally I don’t fancy being classified as either.’ Her laugh is as brilliant as the sun and my body thrives on it. ‘Oh, Donald, we’re going to get along famously.’ ‘You think?’ She gives me a playful wink, leans in close, her voice a husky whisper. ‘Oh, I know.’ She pinches her lip in her teeth, her eyes fall to my mouth, and I swear I could kiss her... I want to—my entire body thrums with the energy to do just that—but I don’t. I want something more. I want to get to know her. I want to dig beneath the confident rebel front with its hairline fractures and get to the girl beneath. And now I have the entire summer to do so...