Page 24 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

“The way I rushed out on you earlier.” A flush takes over her cheeks. “You were just offering me a ride, but I shouldn’t have been rude just because you got the job I wanted.”

“You didn’t seem rude. You seemed …”

“Surprised?” she offers.

“Disappointed.”

“Yeah. I was.” She swipes at a strand of blonde hair that’s slipped free. “But I’m over it now. Or at least I will be. Just as soon as I figure out what to do with the rest of my life.” Her shoulders hitch. “No big deal, right?”

“Well, I can’t help with the rest of your life,” I say, “but I might have something you could do for the next month.”

Her brow lifts. “Like what?” Her eyes are bright and wide now, framed by a thick fringe of lashes.

“Like working at The Beachfront.”

A crease forms on her forehead. “But the Johnsons already hired you.”

“Yes, because they know I have a handle on the day-to-day operations of the inn. But I don’t do social media, I’ve got no idea how to run a website, and I’ve never managed an advertising campaign.”

“Heh.” Olivia pulls a face. “That’s pretty much all I do.”

“I know.” I nod. “Which is why—after you left—I went to the Johnsons and told them we need someone who has marketing and promotional experience to start us off on the right foot.”

A loud bump sounds on the other side of the door, and I glance over at the peephole. “What was that?” I ask.

“Not sure.” Olivia shakes her head. “My grandmother’s probably just spying on us. She’s quite the puma.”

“Ummm.” I take a beat. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Me either.” Olivia’s lip quirks. “Anyway, where were we?”

I cough out a small laugh. “I was about to tell you our budget’s pretty tight, but the Johnsons agreed there’s enough money to hire someone for the lead-up to the reopening. Someone with your strengths. Someone like you. Or specifically you.”

“Hold on.” Her forehead crease is back. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting a temporary job,” I say. “As my assistant at The Beachfront.”

“Ah. Well.” She blows out a long breath. “In that case, no, thank you.”

“I thought you might say that.” I square my shoulders prepared to plead my case. “And I know you have bigger goals, but I’m asking you to stick around long enough to get our marketing plan rolling. And if you show me the ropes, I’ll take over all the publicity next month, and you can leave for greener pastures.”

“You’re asking me to work for you.” Her mouth crooks. “You want to be my boss?”

“Just until the reopening.” I rake a hand through my hair, grimacing. “It’s for a good cause. For the Johnsons,” I add. “And you’ll be helping make your brother’s investment in The Beachfront a success.”

Her nose crinkles, matching her brow. “Temporary assistant isn’t exactly the job title of my dreams.”

“Right.” I splay my hands, in a last-ditch effort. “So what if we call you the marketing and publicity manager?”

“Hmm.” She crosses her arms.

“That’s an actual managerial title,” I point out.

“But I’d still be working under you.”

“Yes. But you’d also have an immediate job starting tomorrow,” I say. “Which gives you time. And a paycheck. I’ll also write you a good reference, so you’ll be leaving here with a better resume than when you came.”

She folds her lips, and I’m struck by how beautiful she looks when she’s thinking. Beautiful and smart. In light of my ban on relationships—and Olivia’s history of trading out men—I should run for the hills, not beg her to stay. But until the inn is reestablished, I need her with me more than I need to keep my distance from her.

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