Tropical Christmas Stag (Shifting Sands Resort 7) - Page 37

Her feet had walked her to the pool deck.

“It’s a letter,” she said, glancing at the man. He smelled like Tex’s trash can and his nose was too red for his face.

“Pretty important looking letter,” the man said, moving to block her path. “It’s got all of your attention. There are better things to do.”

Still looking at the paper, trying to figure out its secrets, Gizelle didn’t have the energy to spare for him.

“Mmm,” she said, trying to skirt around him.

Then, to her horror, the horrible man snatched the paper away from her.

“No!” she shrieked. “That’s mine!”

Chapter 34

Conall was bent over his phone answering emails with his thumbs when the bar vibrated beneath his elbows.

He looked up to find Tex holding a baseball bat and thumping his fist down.

“I swear, I haven’t hurt her,” Conall said swiftly. “Why does everyone think I would?”

But Tex pointed to the edge of the bar deck, urgently, and Conall left his phone behind as he went quickly to the railing and looked down.

His hands balled into fists as he took in the scene below.

He couldn’t hear Gizelle’s cries, but he could see the distress in every line of her body as she frantically tried to grab for the paper that some muscle in a Speedo and a t-shirt was holding out of her reach. The bastard was taunting her, clearly teasing her as she grew more agitated. A few guests in lounge chairs were frowning and looking at each other, but no one was stepping in.

As he stalked towards the stairs, Tex caught his arm. Conall turned to snarl at him, then realized the bartender was offering his bat.

“I don’t need that,” Conall growled, and he was flying down the stairs as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Leave her alone!” he hurled in challenge as he reached the bottom, hoping his voice would carry over the water features of the pool.

If the man said anything, he didn?

??t turn so that Conall could catch it, continuing to bait Gizelle with the paper she so obviously coveted.

There were tears in her eyes and it took all of Conall’s self-control not to simply shift and destroy the man on the spot. “Leave her alone!” he repeated, throwing his shirt over the back of one of the lounge chairs.

The man turned, just in time for Conall to catch, “...just a bit of fun with her.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re that deaf moose, aren’t you, fancy boy.” Apparently, it wasn’t just helpless women he enjoyed taunting. Conall couldn’t hear if his speech slurred, but he guessed the man was drunk from the flush on his face.

“Moose?” Conall said evenly, slipping out of his shoes. “Gizelle, get back.”

“You want to have at it?” the man said in challenge, removing his own shirt viciously. “Maybe you don’t know that I’m a grizzly bear, and I can take on any deer. You’re all prey to me.”

“I’m not a moose,” Conall warned. “I’m an elk.” He gave a quick glance to see that the guests around them were properly far off and Gizelle had retreated a few steps.

“That’s just what you stuck-up Europeans call moose,” the man said dismissively, taking off his Speedo defiantly.

“I’m from Boston,” Conall told him, unbuttoning his own pants. “And I’m an Irish elk.”

He shifted seamlessly the moment his clothing was free, and the man scrambled back in front of him. Extinct since the ice age, his elk stood seven feet at the shoulder and had a rack wider than a car.

The odious man swiftly turned into his grizzly counterpart, but even standing on rear feet, he wasn’t level with the elk’s eyes.

Conall snorted once, tipped his head, and charged forward.

The bear didn’t even have a chance to slash out with his claws before Conall had scooped him up with his antlers and tossed him out into the pool with a massive splash.

Tags: Zoe Chant Shifting Sands Resort Fantasy
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