Page 12 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

“Oh, that.” I turn back to the stove. “I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to construction sites.” I drop two slices of bread into the pan to brown. “And my will to live in Apple Valley as one of the McCoy triplets is way past its expiration date.” I assemble the cheese slices and more bread on top, then turn toward her again, my back to the stove. “Anyway, I love Mac, and I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but I’d like to aim a little higher than a pity job at the family company.”

My mother presses her lips together. “Nobody pities you, sweetheart.”

“But nobody has high expectations, either, do they?”

“Speak for yourself,” she says. “I, for one, am glad you turned Mac down. I love having one of my girls in Abieville.” She passes me a shy smile. “In fact … I wish you’d consider getting a job here in town and staying.”

Big Mama slaps a series of cards down, loudly. “Ford says they’re hiring at the fire station.”

An image of me sliding down a pole in full firefighter gear after my cousin flicks across my brain. “I’m not that brave.”

My mother tilts her head. “You could always be a cashier at the Five and Dime,” she says. “Just until you found something better.”

I quirk a brow. “Are you looking for discounts on five-packs of underwear, Mom?”

“Get the ten-pack,” Big Mama says. “Much better price.”

I turn and flip the sandwiches, then press the spatula on top to speed up the melting. “I appreciate your suggestions,” I tell them. “I really do. But I came here to lick my wounds for a couple weeks. That’s all.” I check the sandwiches for brownness, flipping them again. My mouth waters as melted cheese drips and sizzles.

“And then what?” my mom asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll visit Darby. There must be one measly little hotel in the Bay Area looking for a manager. I’d settle for a bed-and-breakfast. Or an old inn. Something. Anything in the hospitality industry.”

“That reminds me!” My mother smacks her forehead like a lightbulb just came on over her head. “I ran into Robin Johnson at Spill the Tea a few weeks ago.” She pauses for a moment, nodding like she’s waiting for me to catch up. “We both happened to be there at the same time,” she says. “You know. Having tea.”

A chuckle escapes me. “I’m with you so far, Mom.”

“Anyway, she said The Beachfront’s reopening next month, and she and Gerald have been looking for someone to take over for them and manage the place.”

“Wait. What?” I squeak, almost dropping my spatula.

“The Johnsons want someone to manage the inn for them,” my mom repeats.

“I’m someone.”

“You’re Olivia,” Big Mama interjects.

My mom flashes her a look, then snaps back to me. “Apparently they’re ready to hand over the reins, but since the inn’s reputation took a nosedive before the renovation, they haven’t found anyone willing to step up.”

Big Mama gathers the cards to shuffle. “Stepping up sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it does.” I turn the burner off, set the spatula on a trivet, and face my mother.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she says, “but The Beachfront is so different from Luxe, it didn’t occur to me until you mentioned a bed-and-breakfast or an inn.”

I chew my lip, my pulse picking up. “You think they’d hire me?”

“I don’t see why not.” My mom’s eyes go wide as she processes the implications. “And then you could … you could stay in Abieville!” She rises from the table, fumbling in her pocket for her phone. “Should I call Robin for you right now?”

“No!” I throw my palms up. “I mean, thank you, Mom. So much. But … please. Just … no. Thanks.” My heart’s pounding hard, and I pause for a moment to swallow. If I’m going to go pitch myself to the Johnsons, I’d better get my tongue in gear. “What I mean to say is, I need to do this on my own.”

“Are we allowed to eat first?” Big Mama warbles. “All this stepping up does a number on my appetite.”

“You go ahead,” I say, rushing to slip the sandwiches onto a plate. Then I set them both on the table in front of her. “I won’t be able to eat until I talk to the Johnsons.”

“The grilled cheese smells great, Livvy.” Big Mama nods at my sweats. “But if you want to make a good impression, you might want to change first.”

“Good point.” A grin breaks across my face. “Mom? Can I borrow a skirt?”

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