But I can’t decide because my frustration is too much to swallow. The last year has not worked out the way I thought it would. More than once, I’ve thought about crawling back to Global and taking the least terrible assignments until I can get back on my feet. Frankly, the data shows that if I don’t get a job now, I’m going to have a tough time renewing my lease in two weeks.
“Is there going to be...” I clear my throat. “Housing?”
“The details of the position say that the new hire will also receive on-site resort housing, yes. One month. Then you’re free to do whatever you want.”
The bug on the wall turns around in a full circle and sprints toward the floor. In seconds it’s behind the stove and my body springs into action.
“Oh—God. Shit.”
“Jenny? You doing okay?”
He is the worst.
I’ve leapt up onto the single chair at my kitchen table, lightheaded, pulse booming. And it’s not all because the floor is now lava. It’s not all because that awful creature could come skittering out from beneath the stove at any moment.
It’s because Roman Bliss is to blame for this predicament.
Not fully to blame. I’m not the kind of girl who never takes responsibility for anything that happens in her life. But partially. He always got more than he deserved. He ignored me in high school. And he was devastatingly, unforgivably handsome.
My cheeks heat up at the memory of him. I’ve been so careful not to look him up. I’ve been so careful never to run into him when I visit Ruby Bay. Now that my parents have retired and taken up residence in an Airstream that they drive around the country, there’s nowhere for me to stay and no reason for me to ever be that close to the Bliss brothers again.
There was no reason.
Until now.
I have two options.
I can burn down this apartment with the bug inside it....
...or I can take the job.
“I’ll take the job.”
“Oh, I’m so delighted to hear it,” Connor gushes. “I’ll send over a contract and the details as soon as we hang up. Get your bags packed.”
“Bags? Today?” Honestly, it’s not a terrible idea. I don’t want to sleep here tonight. I’d rather be driving toward Ruby Bay, away from this bug-infested disaster of an apartment.
“Good news,” Connor says. “You start on Monday. There’s no time to lose.”
2
Roman
The empty pool tells me all I need to know.
Yes, it’s barely crested nine a.m. and it’s still early in the season, but I remember different times. Better times. Times when the pool was humming with activity from sunup to sundown. It’s not just a warped childhood memory, either. My dad’s old staff schedules for the courtyard pool started at seven. The courtyard pool is the biggest one, set like a jewel into an enormous tiled patio, all of it hugged by the wings of the main building.
The only sound this morning is the gentle lap of the water against the concrete sides of the pool and my own sigh of dissatisfaction.
I’ve been thinking we should up our game when it comes to online advertising and social media for a while now. Hell, I’ve been researching it for weeks. I’ve signed up for three different courses geared toward owners in the hospitality industry. It’s all come to nothing.
I don’t have time to sit in front of my computer for three hours a day taking online video courses. And the handful of posts I’ve managed to put up on our website and the one languishing social media account for the resort have had exactly zero effect.
I stick my hands into the pockets of my dress pants and watch the sunlight play on the water.
The gate leading to the locker rooms and on to the guest room creaks open and the sound gives me a flash of hope. Perhaps the guests just don’t get up as early as they used to. Perhaps—
It’s only Jerry, the guy who cleans the pool. He shoots a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye in my direction as he pulls the gate shut behind him.
“Morning, boss,” he says, and his voice is echoed and distorted by the curve of the building over the gate.
“Jerry. How’s your wife recovering from her surgery?” Knee surgery, two weeks ago.
“She’s good. Doing a lot better.”
“Glad to hear it.”
I don’t have to think too hard to imagine how this is going to play out. Fewer guests having fun at the pool means fewer people thinking this resort is the place to be. An empty resort hotel will mean we sell less of the private homes on the club side. From there, it’s a quick slide into bankruptcy.
“You look pretty solemn for this early in the morning.”
The gravelly voice belongs to Beau, one of my younger brothers. He pads across the tile barefoot, his summer chinos and polo shirt rumpled. His hair matches the rest of his look. To top it off, he is holding a cocktail in one hand.
“You look like shit for this late in the morning.”
He gives this assessment a smiling nod. “Do you always stare out at the pool like a lonely old man?”
“I’m problem-solving. Someone has to do it while the likes of you party all night.” My youngest brother, Huck, is the most likely of us to join Beau in his revelries, but even Huck doesn’t take it to the limit like Beau does.
He looks thoughtful. “I think at this point we should ask ourselves—will I party for the rest of the day?”
“I think we should ask ourselves whether our family business can support your endless social engagements.”
Beau puts his free hand to his chest like I’ve wounded him. “They’re not just social engagements, Roman. You know that. I’m networking. I’m bringing in business. Meanwhile, you’re sulking by the side of the pool.”
“I told you, I’m—”
He waves me off. “Problem-solving never gets you anywhere. You still think you have to do everything by yourself. Frankly, brother, you’re not very good at it.”
I look at him, still drinking, still wearing last night’s clothes. “I think I’ll take my chances. It’s not like there’s anyone else to manage all of you.”
“If managing five people is beyond you—”
“I manage more than our family, and you know it.”
Sometimes, getting all five of my brothers to coordinate their efforts is an impossible task. I have no idea why Dad brought us all on. He’d have done better to poach experts from other resorts. But here we are without him. In years past, the resort and club have made enough money so that we can all live comfortably—even Asher. Half the time, I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing.
“Anyway,” I continue on while Beau drinks. “Dad always said that if you want something done right, you should do it yourself. You don’t have your drunk brother do it for you.”
He nods sagely. “I guess now’s the time to beg forgiveness.”
My heart throws itself headfirst against my rib cage. “Forgiveness for what?”
“For hiring you a girl.”
This is it. This is how I die.
“Beau.” Even my own voice sounds deadly. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you doing asking strippers to come to the resort? Oh, Jesus. It’s not a stripper, is it? If you hired a call girl—”