Page 34 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

The bridge of her nose crinkles. A few extra freckles have cropped up there, and the effect is—in a word—adorable.

“So what do you think?”

“Hmm.” I blink back to reality, then peer more closely at the new Beachfront banner and logo. I need to act like a professional, not a guy counting his coworker’s freckles. “I think it’s brilliant.”

She blows out a breath, and her mouth slides into a smile. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You designed all this?”

“I did.” She tucks the drape of hair behind her ear. The clean scent of her shampoo washes over me. When she leans over to pick up the laptop, I smell the warm cocoa butter on her skin again. “I would’ve hired an artist, but our budget’s basically a shoestring. We can’t afford a web expert either. So I just reworked the old site myself. If you approve the new logo and the ‘but better’ angle, I’ll start setting up our new social media accounts.”

“I approve of everything. Most definitely. You don’t even have to ask me.”

She crosses to her desk and sets her laptop down. “I guess I’m not used to people trusting my ideas.”

“I have to say that’s hard to believe.”

“Tell that to my old boss.” She shrugs. “But enough about Francine Tomlin. The Beachfront’s my only focus now.”

“Right,” I say.

Mine, too.

Chapter Twelve

Olivia

It’s my fourth day here, and Hudson must really trust me to work on my own, because he’s been out of the office all day. I have to admit, the room feels smaller without him in it. Not to mention the space doesn’t smell half as good. Picking up my mug now, I down the last sip of this morning’s cold coffee. Ugh. My stomach growls, and I press a hand to my abdomen, checking the time.

Has it really been that many hours since I ate lunch?

At Luxe, we’d sometimes order in if we were onsite, or I’d expense my meal if I was working in town. But The Beachfront’s a whole other ballgame. The options for delivery here are slim. I used to love the food at the pub, but the restaurant won’t officially reopen until the inn does. So I’m pretty sure there’s no cook in the kitchen right now pumping out burgers and fries. My stomach rumbles again, just as Hudson pokes his head in the door.

“Your polos arrived,” he says, entering the office.

“Wow. That was fast.”

“I put in a rush order. Couldn’t have them finally arriving after you’re gone.”

He sets a couple of snow-white shirts on my desk. The neckline of the women’s version sports three buttons, and the words Beachfront Inn are embroidered above a small pocket. There are actual cuffs on the short sleeves. No one at Luxe would be caught dead wearing a shirt like this. Let alone two.

“Thanks.” I offer a small smile. “I feel more a part of this place already.” I fold the shirts and slip them into my messenger bag.

“Good.” He glances at my computer. “If you’re about done for the day, I want to show you something.”

“Is it a takeout menu?” I stifle a smirk. “Because I could really go for a burger and fries right now.”

“Better than a burger.”

“Oh, I think you underestimate my love of meat, cheese, and sesame seed buns.”

“I see.” His eyebrows flick up. “So you’re a real bun lover, huh?”

I choke back a laugh, my cheeks flaming hot. “Which is exactly why I need to get home for dinner.”

Do not think about Hudson’s buns. Do not think about Hudson’s buns.

“Come on,” he says. “I’m dying to show someone what I’ve been working on.”

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