One Bossy Offer (74)

I swing the door to the conference room open and storm in a few minutes later. It’s dead silent.

Huh?

“Hey, Jenn. How you holding up?” Smokey Dave sounds weirdly depressed.

“Fine, you?” I take the first empty seat I find, more weirded out than ever when he just shrugs.

Soon, the entire creative team from Pinnacle Pointe is gathered there, but the room is giving me serious funeral vibes.

Then I spot Miles and a couple of other suits at the back of the room, talking among themselves. The way his hands slash through the air sharpens my nerves.

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Miles moves to the front of the room a minute later, clasping his hands in front of him and donning his best calm face.

“I’ll keep this short and to the point. I need all Pinnacle Pointe content edited, polished, and published in under forty-eight hours. We’ve lost the luxury of time.” He barely pauses while a few shocked gasps and whispers fly around the room. “We can no longer afford to treat this like a side project. I need the main push ASAP.”

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this.

What the hell is going on?

This was always a nonprofit side project. It can’t be about money.

“If you have any questions, email the department head, and if they don’t answer, you come to me. Go get started. Dismissed.” He claps his hands like he’s talking to a pack of dogs.

People start filing out with rumors darting back and forth.

I stay behind, hoping for a chance to ask Miles what happened.

Why the sudden urgency?

And holy shit, does he know what he’s truly asking?

I’m not sure I could have everything ready for prime time in two days if you held a gun to my head.

He notices me standing there, glares, and says, “I don’t have time for games or personal affairs, Miss Landers. Go. Help them.”

Games? Miss Landers?

What the fuck.

“That’s pretty rich coming from you.” I can’t help it.

“What do you mean?”

“Gee, I don’t know. You’ve completely changed the scope of my project without a word of explanation. What’s changed? You owe me that much.”

His lips thin and his eyes gleam like blades.

“You really want to know? Fine. You have more of a vested interest in the town’s tourism than anyone else in this room, minus yours truly. If we don’t move our asses and bury some devastating bad press, Pinnacle Pointe may never recover.”

Bad press? What?

Who could have anything bad to say about Pinnacle Pointe?

It’s a portrait of serenity.

There isn’t much there in modern conveniences, sure, but there isn’t much to complain about either.

“Experience tells me if this garbage proliferates unchecked, long-term opinions will harden in under a week. That’s the news cycle. If people hear attacks repeated every day about this town with nothing to counter it, eventually they’ll believe it. And once they’ve bought the lie, the truth no longer matters. The attacks have to be combated with positive press or we don’t have a fighting chance. Your inn will be worthless. The general store and the bar will shut down. The few jobs left there will dry up in no time. So, Jenn, if you don’t want a ghost town, kindly put our bickering aside and get on board.”

What flipping attacks?

“I don’t understand. Who would come after Pinnacle Pointe?”

He sighs. “Jenn, just go help the team. We don’t have time for this now, I promise you.”

I glare at him.

“I’ll explain everything later.” His voice softens. “If you have any issues with the project, come straight to me, okay? Time is critical.”

The heavy weight in his eyes is the only thing that makes me bite my tongue until it hurts, spin around, and march out his door.

On the elevator ride down, all I can think about is how this makes no sense.

The only person I know who doesn’t like Pinnacle Pointe is my dad, and that’s because he’s a city boy who’s allergic to fresh air and wild salmon.

What happened?

There’s only one way to find out.





I don’t hear from Miles the rest of the day.

He has no intention of talking about what happened.

Big surprise.

Chalk it up to one more broken promise. But the fact that he won’t explain what the hell is going on worries me more.

Where are these attacks coming from? And why?

Despite being buried under a mountain of work, I can’t resist some sleuthing.

I don’t leave the office until after eleven. Forty-eight hours isn’t enough time to clean up the mess, but a girl has to sleep sometime. Thankfully, Dad took the dogs out on his evening jog, and they’re still content with their bones by the time I drag through the door with a burrito for dinner.

Lying on my bed, I open my laptop and Google Pinnacle Pointe.

The first hit in the news is an article about drugs and crime.

Um, what?

I’m instantly annoyed.

I’ve only lived there for a couple months, but Gram would have been the first to notice if anything was turning shady there.

Still, I click the link, holding my breath as my eyes scan over the title.