Page 15 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

“I love everything you’ve done with the place.” I motion to the shoreline, sweeping an arm from one end of the property to the other. “This is all so impressive.”

“Thanks to your brother.” Mrs. Johnson beams at me. “Mac really saved us, you know.”

“I do.”

And I’m hoping you can save me in return.

“So, Olivia.” Mr. Johnsons stuffs his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “How are things in your neck of the woods? Mac says you’ve been working in the hotel industry too. I think he referred to you as the Ambassador of Breckenridge.”

My cheeks heat up at the self-appointed title. “Well that’s what I called myself a couple of years ago, but it wasn’t an official title.” My shoulders hitch. “Just part of me leaning into my brand.”

“Ho, ho!” Mr. Johnson chuckles like he’s an Adirondack Santa Claus. “Leaning into your brand, huh? You sound like quite the marketing genius.”

I tug at the lapel on my mother’s blazer. “Genius is a big word. But I do have a lot of experience in that area.”

His blue eyes twinkle. “If my wife and I had been more like you from the get-go, this place might’ve been profitable.”

I bob my head. “Good marketing isn’t easy, but I do think it’s necessary.” This is it. My moment to convince them I’d be a great manager. “And I’m more than ready to take on something new and challenging like that here.”

A light breeze picks up blowing the wisps across Mr. Johnson’s balding head. “Something new and challenging here in Abieville?”

“Here at The Beachfront.” I square my shoulders. “I heard you’ve been looking for a new manager. So I came here in person to tell you I’m the right woman for the job.”

“Oh, my.” Mrs. Johnson glances at her husband. A prickle of doubt runs up my spine.

“I wish we’d known that, Olivia.” He grimaces. “Could’ve saved you a trip across the lake.”

“Hold on. Before you decide—” I take a small step forward, careful not to trip in the unfamiliar heels—“I know I’m not a local, but my mom has roots here. My grandmother too. All my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Abieville’s kind of like my second home, once removed. And if you’ll let me, I promise I can take your inn to the next level.” I pause for a beat. “Not just the inn, either. I have ideas for the pub and the beach too. And for new lake activities we could offer. We could absolutely capitalize on?—”

“I hate to interrupt.” Mr. Johnson raises a hand. “But I’d feel even worse letting you go on.” He scrubs that same hand down his face. “The thing is, we don’t need a manager.”

“Oh.” My insides shrivel, and a lump of disappointment clogs my throat. The Johnsons either changed their minds about turning over the reins here, or my mom misunderstood Mrs. Johnson in the first place. I never should’ve gotten my hopes up over some idle conversation at Spill the Tea. “I thought you were looking for someone to take over for you,” I squeak out.

“Well, we were, dear.” Mrs. Johnson inclines her head toward the entrance. “But we found someone already.”

“I see.”

Superfluous again.

My shoulders slump so low, I’m surprised my mom’s oversized blazer doesn’t slip off me. I let myself believe I’d finally found a place for my skills to shine. But I’m unnecessary once again.

Not the funniest triplet.

Not the smartest one.

I’m Olivia McCoy: Eaten first by zombies.

A long sigh leaks out of me, and I start to feel light-headed, swaying in my mother’s loose shoes.

“Why don’t you come inside, dear?” Mrs. Johnson offers. “We’ll get you some cool water. Let you sit for a minute.”

“No, I’m okay,” I say softly, blinking to clear my vision. “Just a little overheated.”

“Nonsense.” Mr. Johnson hustles over to the giant wooden doors. “Least we could do for you … considering.”

Considering all my hopes and dreams were just crushed again?

Fine. I’ll take a glass of water.

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