One Bossy Offer (31)

She’s simply infuriating.

There’s no denying she’s good at what she does.

I wasn’t expecting this passion when I hired her, or this competence.

Honestly, I just hoped I could convince her I’m not Satan so she’d sell Bee Harbor. Now, it’s a struggle to imagine anyone who’d be a better fit for this project.

A little while later, they must have gotten their initial round in.

Sarah and another woman walk away from a laughing Jennifer, and Dave digs around in his coat as he walks toward the back of the ship.

Another goddamned smoke break, probably.

We’re slowly approaching the cliff Pinnacle Pointe was named for.

It’s a natural gem for tourism shots, and it never fails to capture my attention no matter how many times I’ve seen it.

As soon as I look up at the majestic peak, a memory hits me in the face.

The first time I ever remember being here.

I’m knee-high and laughing, hunkered on Dad’s lofty shoulders. My mother comes over and leans against his bicep, both of them laughing at some joke I’m too young to understand.

The late summer sunset streams through the cottony clouds on the horizon.

My old man draws in a breath heavy with life.

I feel it roll through him when he exhales.

“Take a good long look, little man,” he tells me, shifting me higher for the best view while Mom rests her head on his shoulder. “This is what’s worth it, Miles. Right here. The times you’ll remember for as long as you live and the people you’ll share it with.”

My jaw tightens like a vise.

There was so much sickening irony in his words, even if he couldn’t have known it.

How many times have I told Dad that story, desperately trying to share that memory, only to get back a blank, glassy look in return?

Even memories aren’t guaranteed. That’s what I wish he’d told me.

And the people you hope will always share them, well, there’s no guarantee they’ll be here tomorrow.

The cliff hasn’t changed in the slightest since I was a boy.

Yet, the landscape is the only thing that remains of that day with a happy family that stopped existing years ago.

It’s a worn memory that’s only mine now, and eventually it might just fade to black one fine day when I wake up and don’t know who the hell I am.

Is that my destiny?

Sharing my father’s fate?

Does he ever remember that day when Mom was still around to comb his hair, leaning sweetly into his ear and whispering— “Hey, guys, you have to get this! Where’s Dave?” Jenn’s voice pierces my melancholy, dragging my eyes down to her again.

She’s holding her phone in front of her face, filming the cliff as the ship reaches its closest approach and slows.

Everyone scurries closer, getting in their own shots.

They line up like an army of little photographers, capturing the cliffs from different angles.

I chuckle to myself.

This woman is the whirlwind my people need.

Half an hour later, when everything seems filmed to her satisfaction, the team disperses, but Jenn stays behind. She’s still down there, pulling her windbreaker tight around her body and leaning up against deck railing, watching the landscape drift by.

This is probably a good time to talk to her.

If there’s any such a thing as a 'good time.'

I’m not sure when I’ll catch her alone again, though.

So I head down to the lower deck, wondering if we can trade twenty words before she’s ready to flay me open.

A sudden gust blows just before I reach her. Her silver windbreaker flutters open, displaying an ample chest I’ve tried like hell to forget.

Goddamn, there’s another memory I don’t need.

Her, standing in front of me, dumbstruck and red-faced with her robe tossed open, baring everything and still not enough.

Even then, I wanted to devour her.

A craving that only intensifies. Because the first time I saw her, I didn’t know she had the gumption to turn down an embarrassingly large offer for the inn. I didn’t know she had zero problem telling people with twice as much experience what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it.

My eyes wander and I beg the cold weather to fight down my hard-on. The peaks of those large tits dot her thin shirt, and it’s harder to ignore them the closer I get.

“Miss Landers,” I say, approaching over her shoulder. “That was damn good work.”

She turns and smiles at me. “Have you come to gloat while I turn into an ice cube?”

“I’m here to admire the view.” And though I nod at the cliff looming over us, my eyes never leave her.

Thankfully, she doesn’t notice, returning her gaze to the ocean and the scenery beyond.

“I wish this town had a lighthouse,” she muses. “It’s the only thing missing from an evening like this.”

Damn, this girl.

It’s obscene how she turns me inside out without trying every time she smiles.

“I can’t help you with that. However, we should have plenty of content over the next two weeks when everything gets compiled and edited. When the team returns to Seattle, they’ll get to work on it and let you know when you’re needed in the office.”

That gets her attention.