Page 28 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

Crap.

I managed to grab hold of the brake line and apply pressure, slowing me a bit, but the platform was still approaching way too fast. Grabbing hold of my harness with the other hand, I gave one last massive effort to heave myself upward—

And felt a set of powerful arms catch me.

My momentum stopped in an instant, and I found myself enveloped by Chase Everett. All of him. Every inch of him on every inch of me, and him all around, and the world was no longer green and blue or up and down buthim.

“You,” he said, his voice husky, “are insane.”

I should have been horrified—the guy had saved me yet again, after all—but instead, I felt more alive than ever in my life. I lifted my face and laughed, completely free.

He didn’t seem angry. Instead, it was concern again and maybe a little bit of something more. That little bit of something may have had something to do with the fact that his arms were still wrapped around me protectively.

My uncontrollable laughter slowed and turned into a soft chuckle, muffled against his hard chest and the powerful scent of musk, tree leaves, and peppermint. The zip line was fun, but this—thiswas exhilaration like I’d never experienced before. I wanted to stay here in his arms forever. My insides ignited like a forest fire.

Even more strangely, I saw that same exhilaration mirrored in his own eyes. Seconds passed, and he didn’t look away. Not once. There he stood, looking stricken, like someone had punched him in the face, yet wanting to experience the sensation again and again.

Someone cleared his throat across the platform, tearing my gaze back to reality.

Ty stared at us with a dark expression, his eyes narrowed in a combination of hurt and betrayal. Then he launched off the platform once more.

FOURTEEN

I didn’t seeTy the rest of the day. Thankfully, I had plenty to keep me busy. Less than an hour after arriving back at the office following the zip lining excursion, the florist came to my office in a panic. An entire shipment of florals had been loaded onto the wrong plane and shipped off to Nicaragua. She and I spent two hours making phone calls—to the airline, the insurance agency, and other florists within an hour of here.

The moment we’d found a local company able and willing to supply this weekend’s shipment on time and the florist had left wiping her tears, the cake decorator’s husband called with the news that she’d been admitted to the hospital with kidney failure and would be out for the foreseeable future.

Growling, I scrambled to thumb through Blythe’s old files on local cake decorators and found nothing. I was literally doing a search on my laptop for nearby cake decorators when a bride called and said she’d forgotten her shoes and could I find a replacement pair? Because ivory silk sandals in size 6 were easy to find on the island, of course.

By the time the photographer texted with the news that he’d broken an expensive lens on today’s photo shoot and would need an advance so he could replace it, I wanted to pull my hair out and light everything on fire…and then light the fire on fire.

Yet despite it all, I felt skilled for the first time since arriving here. Blythe had taken care of most of the details up till now. Finally, I had something that needed my attention, and mine alone. I’d tackled every single problem with my signature Daphne stubbornness until a solution presented itself. Me, not Blythe.

On some deep level, I kind of loved it.

I was swatting my fiftieth mosquito when a knock sounded on the corner of the open wall, just before Chase emerged from the shadows and into the dim light. He looked around. “It’s 10:00 p.m. What are you still doing here?”

10? Could it really be that late? I sighed. “Just putting out a few fires.”

“I heard about the flowers. Somebody’s getting fired over that.”

Stiffening, I stared at him.

He seemed puzzled by my reaction before understanding. “Somebody at the airline,” he clarified. “Not…here. Not you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Chase looked strangely unsettled tonight. It occurred to me that my boss was here, in my office, incredibly late and alone. Had I done something wrong today? Did this have something to do with his showing off on the zip line? Maybe he felt guilty for the unprofessional nature of it all. But he’d left his stern demeanor at home tonight. This man looked somewhat normal—tired and a little flustered. What could have gotten him this rattled?

“Thanks,” I said carefully. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m wondering something.” The words came out in a rush before dying completely in a pool of silence.

He still stood across the room and I sat in my office chair, so I motioned to the hard sofa in front of my desk. “Do you want to sit?”

“No.” He ran a hand over his hair, then seemed to notice the gesture and shoved it into his pocket instead.

Oh. The guy almost seemednervous.This couldn’t be good.

“Come on a walk with me,” he finally said.

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