One Bossy Offer (130)

I’d planned on tearing it down and replacing it with a floating gazebo dock for weddings, maybe in the next summer or two if things go well.

“I-I can’t pay a crew.”

Delivery man shrugs. “Don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid. I just need a signature so I can get to my next stop.”

A black car pulls up behind the trailer with the boat and a man in a suit steps out.

I frown. “Now what?”

“No clue. Will you sign this or not?”

I shake my head. “No. This has something to do with my crazy ex-boyfriend.”

Delivery man’s brows dart up. “Whew. My crazy ex set my clothes on fire in front of my ma’s house. If I ever get the kinda crazy that randomly sends boats and work crews to refurbish old buildings, I’ll put a ring on that ASAP.”

“Can you just go? I’m sorry, I can’t keep this boat. I don’t even know what to do with it.”

“No offense, but it sounds like the crazy ex took care of that with the whole boathouse repair thing.”

“Who hired you, anyway?”

“Says here...” He looks at the name on his tablet. “Cromwell-Narada?”

“Ugh. I knew it,” I sigh out.

His jaw drops. “Hold up. Your crazy ex is Miles Cromwell?”

I don’t answer.

The man in the suit comes up the stairs to the front porch now. “Hi, Miss Landers. I seem to have caught you at a busy time, but I’m supposed to explain the account that’s been set up for you. I’m happy to wait if you’ll have a minute in the next hour.”

I blink. “Account? What account?”

Seriously.

What the hell is going on?

“I should explain. I run a business management service. Clients set up an account with my firm, and then I take care of their business needs. The account set up for you was specifically intended for up to three tour guides with a boating license—”

Okay.

Breathe.

At least now I know what I’m supposed to do with the boat.

“I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I don’t want the account,” I say, trying not to snap.

“Oh, are you certain? I made it clear to the man I talked to that if you changed your mind after signing the contract and funding the account, you’d lose ten percent to the cancellation fee.”

He’s too good at making everything so hard.

“Whatever your terms are, I didn’t set up the account.”

“Forgive me, but why would someone else set up an account for your business?”

“Crazy ex-boyfriend. Go figure,” the delivery guy says, swirling a finger in a circle next to his head.

Suit guy blinks in confusion.

“Just take the boat back. I have to go get a crew off my land,” I say before I turn and sprint off toward the pickup that’s pulling up on the side of the road.

An entire week passes after that without any new fanfare.

No more truckloads of flowers, no random boats or work crews, no freaking messenger penguins like Pippa had with Brock—though that would’ve been adorable.

It’s almost too quiet.

I think he’s beginning to get it through his head.

We have to move on with our own lives.

Just not with each other.

It’s bittersweet when I finally have the time and space to hear myself think.

It’s what I’ve needed since he had his change of heart, but knowing he’s given up on us rattles my head.

The finality of it stings so deep.

The next day, there’s a break in the blustery winds and rain. I’m taking my dogs on a walk on our usual path along the beach and then into town.

We’re about to turn around the block when Benson comes out of the general store and waves at me, holding the door.

I wave back out of instinct. But should I turn around?

Oh, no.

If Benson is here, his boss is probably close by.

I take a deep breath and suck it up.

If we’re both determined to stay in this little town as neighbors, we’re going to see each other. And one day, I’m bound to see him with another woman.

That will be a lot worse.

The dark thought puts a lump in my throat so big I can’t breathe.

But I can’t spend my life running, and seeing Miles now and then feels like good practice for what’s coming.

Sure enough, I see him walking out of the general store a second later.

I almost smile before I catch myself.

His arms are bursting with canvases and art supplies. It’s impressive that he just keeps painting his way through everything that’s happened. Or maybe he’s just starting again?

My heart sinks because I’ll never find out.

There was a time when I didn’t have to guess what was going on in his life.

But I made my decision, didn’t I?

Still, Coffee spots him and takes off in a mad dash. Cream is right behind him, belting out loud yips.

I tighten my grip on the leashes and use my body weight to pull them back. As if I have the strength to hold almost two hundred pounds of combined Doberman insanity.

“No, no, guys—heel!”

They jerk to a stop—barely—still straining on their leashes with intense looks and wagging tails.