Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I can hold my own.” The way he says it means he knows his stuff.
“Okay, good. You’re gonna be my caddy. Memorize whatever’s in these two dossiers. Also, I need you to book me with the golf pro tomorrow morning.” Maybe that’ll give me a fighting chance of not embarrassing myself.
Archie stiffens, his demeanor shifting to business in an instant. “Any time in particular?”
“The earlier, the better.” Less chance of my session getting derailed by problems.
A knock sounds on my office door.
“Come in,” I holler.
Dorian and his mustache appear. “Sprinklers are all sorted. Our guys had to dig up some lines, but—”
“Perfect,” I cut him off. I really don’t care how they fixed it, just as long as it’s one less problem to end up on my plate. “Anything else to worry about?”
“For you? No. Got the replacement beach equipment in today, finally, for everything that arrived busted. I sent you the labor report for the month, plus the updated projections for next month, as well as the equipment list. Ten percent higher than the budget. I prioritized what I think is necessary.”
I sigh. Can’t wait to be lectured by Henry’s CFO for overspending. “Thanks, Dorian.”
With a wave, he ducks out.
Now is the perfect time to escape, before anyone shows up to drop a new problem in my lap. I quickly collect my laptop and tablet. “I’m going home to digest all of this in peace. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get you in with the pro first thing and update your calendar.”
“Good man.” I rush out before he’s even out of his seat.
It’s all a ruse, of course. Home is not where I’m aiming to go.
My pulse races as I pull up next to the old blue Cherokee wearing a Sea Witch bumper sticker. That has to be Sloane’s, which means she’s here. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like Frank or anyone else is. The row of colorful trailers sits quietly between the line of trees, no vehicle to be seen.
The hens greet me as I step out of my car, flocking to my shoes as if I’ve dropped kernels for them. When they realize I’ve come empty-handed, they strut away, clucking.
“Hey, Ralph,” I call out to the hulkish rooster loitering a few feet away. I haven’t seen a lot of roosters in my day, but I didn’t know they came that big. “Don’t shit on my hood this time, okay?” It took two rounds in the car wash to get off.
He spreads his tail feathers as if in answer.
“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna shit on my car again,” I mutter, dismissing him as I make my way past the fenced-off garden. A set of gloves rests next to a pitchfork and a pile of weeds. A basket nearby is filled with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and radishes. It looks like someone gave up harvesting halfway through.
I take a moment to absorb the entire idyllic view. Even though the hotel is right next door, you’d never know it from this spot. It’s a kitschy little oasis of brambly trees and colorful buildings, personality in every corner you look. And Henry wants to pave over this. Tear it down and turn it into a road. It’s wrong on every level.
I climb the quaint little teal-blue beach house’s porch steps, hit with a flash of the last time I was here, armed with my laptop and good intentions. I can’t believe how quickly things between me and Sloane got out of control. I wouldn’t change a thing about that day, though.
Scratch that—I would change one thing: I would have made sure it lasted a hell of a lot longer.
The glass pane rattles under my knock, and then I wait.
And wait.
I knock again, stealing a glance through the window. Movement catches my eye. It’s not inside the house, but through the back doors. A figure in a hot pink string bikini strolls up the beach, a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her wet hair pushed back off her forehead.
My pulse races at the sight of Sloane, even as I chastise myself for not thinking through this impulsive visit. What am I supposed to say to her, now that there’s this giant secret hanging in the air, these plans that are going to upend her entire life that I know about. That I can’t tell her about without risking my career and her wrath.
Sloane veers to her left.
I take quick steps down the porch and to the far side of the house, following the stone path around to meet her.
4. Sloane
The towel is unnecessary in this heat, but I wrap it around my shoulders anyway as I stroll toward my house. I needed that swim. Something about the warm gulf water and the lapping waves and the endless blue sky above always calms me. But it didn’t assuage the disbelief that still grips my every thought.