Page 3 of Love on Deck

I froze. Fantasy Con had been Camila’s project the last few years, and I’d shadowed her heavily. Now that she no longer planned to return from maternity leave, this was my chance to take the project on and prove my worthiness. “Is there a problem with the conference?”

“There is no more conference,” Hal said bitterly. He smoothed his fingers over his mustache. “They canceled. I guess they found facilities they believe are better quality and better priced, so they pulled from the contract.”

“How can they get away with that?” Our contracts were pretty ironclad.

“They found a clause. It doesn’t matter now,” he said, waving his hand. “You can put your efforts into something else.”

But there wasn’t anything else, not at the caliber of Fantasy Con. Nothing that took as much facilitating and gave me the chance to prove I was worthy of the promotion. Except for maybe the lawyer conference we had coming up in a few weeks. It wasn’t the same level as the nerdy conference, but it was the next best thing. “Maybe the law—”

“Jerry has that well in hand,” Hal said. “But you can assist him.”

Assist? I would not be formally assisting Jerry in anything. That would secure me in Hal’s head as second-best.

“I believe my talents are put to better use elsewhere, sir.”

“Probably true, but there isn’t anything else until July.”

Which was a problem for me because Camila’s maternity leave was up at the end of April. The promotion decision would be made by then.

“I can canvass,” I offered. “Find a new conference. Or maybe work on Fantasy Con’s guild a little—”

“Lauren,” Hal placated. “I don’t need you to do any of that. I need you to take your break, breathe a little sea air, and clear your mind for a few days. I promise your job will be waiting here when you return.”

My job would, yes, but maybe not my promotion. My five-year plan was already mapped out in a detailed spreadsheet on my laptop. I couldn’t afford to put this promotion off any longer. I’d already been stagnant for too long. I looked through the window where Jerry’s desk was visible and found him watching us, his forehead shiny underneath the fluorescent lights. That little shark was planning to swoop in and steal the promotion I’d given four years of my life to obtain, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Hal rose, indicating our meeting was over. Since I stood across from him in tan LuLu Lemon knockoff joggers and a plain white shirt, I was inappropriately dressed for the office anyway.

“Go to Florida, Lauren,” Hal said. “And do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

His caterpillar eyebrows lifted. “Enjoy yourself.”

Jack’s stupidly handsome face flashed in my mind, the deep creases from his years of consistent smiling and sparkling green eyes under dark brown hair. Ugh, so gross. I was not going to enjoy myself, and that was just a plain fact.

I felt the promotion slipping further from my fingers as Hal ushered me out his door and past Jerry’s desk. Panic edged in. I needed this promotion. I needed to be rewarded for my years of hard work and sacrifice and all the time Camila put into training me to take her place. If this didn’t come to me now, it would knock everything in my spreadsheet down a cell, which would mess everything up. When Hal was brought in as interim events coordinator and given the role of choosing Camila’s successor, I’d thought I had it in the bag, but watching him praise Jerry over recent weeks had given me a wriggle of doubt. Now I was growing more and more insecure.

He walked me to the elevator and pushed the button, then herded me inside. Stepping back into the hallway, he slung his hands in his pockets. “See you in a couple weeks.”

I swallowed against a dry throat and grappled for understanding. Before I could say anything, plead my case, beg even, the elevator doors slid closed, shutting down my dreams.

CHAPTER TWO

JACK

It was the picture of my brothers together at Gigi’s Diner that did me in. Their arms were thrown over each other’s shoulders, their smiles bright beneath the beaming pendant lights. The diner was crammed past capacity, people spilling from the booths, others leaning between occupied stools at the long counter. I could practically feel the sticky linoleum under my feet as if I was there, smell the potatoes frying in the back and the sizzle of energy in the room. Everyone in town had shown up for Wyatt’s birthday party.

Everyone but me. Which was fair, I guess, since I didn’t live in Arcadia Creek anymore. But I didn’t even get an invitation, despite the fact that Wyatt was my cousin and once my closest friend. Dallas was only an hour away from my hometown. I could have driven out for a birthday party.

Except I was about to get on a flight to Florida for Kevin’s elopement cruise. So technically I couldn’t have made it to Wyatt’s party last night, since I was packing and tying up last minute work things to make this trip possible. He and Kevin had never been big fans of each other—Wyatt, my small-town best friend, and Kevin, my grad school roommate turned best friend, had never clicked. Telling Wyatt I couldn’t be there because of a commitment to Kevin would have been worse.

So maybe it was a good thing they didn’t want me at the party anyway.

I clicked off my phone so Instagram wouldn’t show me any more pictures of my family hanging out without me. Overhead, an airline worker made a staticky last call for a flight to Chicago, and I pulled out my AirPods to cancel the noise. I was boarding in twenty-five minutes, and I planned on spending every last minute watching downloaded episodes of Redone. It was only the best renovation show HGTV had to offer. You didn’t have to be middle-aged or a woman to appreciate a good renovation.

Which was a blessed thing, since I was a late-twenties man who couldn’t seem to get enough of the fixer upper shows. (Yes, I’d been down to Waco. I’d pretended I was too cool for it, yet I’d geeked out internally, like a twelve-year-old who’d just been given his first paintball gun.)

It was the best thing my dad ever taught me—how to strip paint and stain old furniture, how a new set of hardware and a little polish could completely transform a dresser from a mid-century nightmare to modern and chic. My Dallas apartment didn’t have a work shed though, so I had to satisfy myself by watching other people do it for now.

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