Page 38 of The Grumpy Boss Agreement

She doesn’t laugh.

“You’re going to move somewhere because your four-year-old son loves funny accents?” She arches a brow at me.

“No, but it helps.” I point to a tent selling books, intending to move there next, but Savannah waves it off.

“Those are all gardening books.”

“How do you know that?”

She gives me a knowing smirk. “Because that’s Imogen Wright’s tent. She’s a widow who inherited no money, and five thousand copies of her deceased husband’s gardening book. She’s been renting out booths at every single event, trying to get rid of her enormous inventory.”

I chuckle. “What, you don’t feel moved to help her?”

Savannah grows quiet and shakes her head.

“She’s not a very nice person.”

Then she moves off, cutting around a few older couples and heading toward the lighthouse. I follow, wondering if I’d touched a sensitive spot, or if Savannah is just really eager to see the lighthouse.

She reaches the lighthouse and goes around the broad base, and I follow her. We are off the beaten track for the Red Rice Revel. Here, I can really see the ocean over the grassy lip of the cliff. It’s midday, but the sea spray is like icy needles where it touches my bare skin. Savannah turns her face towards it, seeming to enjoy it as we pass close to the ocean. Then we move away from the cliff, and Savannah finds a bench miraculously free of salted mist.

“Want to sit?” she asks.

I shrug, taking a seat. When Savannah sits down next to me, I move down a bit to give us both some room.

She looks at me, her face not giving away her thoughts.

“What?” I snap.

She gives me a playful expression. “I have some news that you’re not going to like.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to tell me anyway?”

She laughs and pulls out her phone. She taps a few buttons and then turns the screen to me. On it is a photo of her and me. It was taken a couple of days ago when we sat on the bench on the South Shore pier. In it, Savannah is looking up at me like she is expecting a kiss.

And me? I’m glowering down at her, but my expression seems more… hungry.

I’m looking at Savannah like I’m a man who hasn’t eaten in a week, and she’s a ten-course meal.

Underneath the photo is the caption, Look who we found. Aren’t they cute together?

Oh. My. God. The very idea that Savannah and I are hooking up makes my toes curl. I’m part humiliated, part infuriated, part embarrassed at being caught out. Because in that moment… I did want to fuck Savannah. But I don’t need the entire world to know all my dirty laundry!

I snatch the phone out of Savannah’s hand, incensed. “Delete this right this second!!”

She gives me a funny look. “It’s not my photo, Cole. It’s a photo posted to Insta from CSAT.”

I scowl at her as she takes her phone back.

“What’s a CSAT?”

“Cape Simon Around Town. It’s an anonymous Insta account for local gossip.”

“We have to get it taken down! It’s embarrassing!” I say, aggrieved. That gives me pause. “How do we do that?”

“It’s anonymous,” Savannah repeats. “No one knows who’s behind CSAT. Although I personally think it’s someone with a grudge against hookups. Maybe someone religious or something?”

“We are not a hookup,” I growl.

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