Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
In this one, I’ll do my damnedest to make her grateful for my company.
I head downstairs in a three-piece suit, dressed to impress.
After our first encounter, I figure more layers are probably for the best.
Whatever helps her not picture me stark naked—though the fact that I know she will makes my lips turn up.
I walk into the restaurant and glance around.
A few well-dressed people sit at tables or linger around the brunch buffet.
Then there’s Miss Renee.
She’s all alone at a table for two, shockingly underdressed compared to the usual crowd. Is she still in her pajamas?
At least she’s wearing shorts this time, hunched over the big ceramic coffee mug with both hands wrapped around it like it’s anchoring her.
I pull out the chair across from her and sit.
“Enjoying your complimentary breakfast?”
Her head jerks up from her coffee cup and the hazy half smile she was wearing looking out at the ocean disappears.
“Um, yes. Of course. Thank you.”
“Have you tried the lobster yet? It’s brought in locally every day and sinfully delicious,” I say, trying to play it up. “Plenty of folks go home preferring Hawaiian lobster to anything they’ll find out east.”
She stares at me like she doesn’t comprehend a word I say.
Lovely start.
“Mr. Manager, you don’t have to worry. I probably won’t mention you in the review. I’ve been thinking it over and I don’t want that incident to become a huge distraction from whatever else I say about this place.” She sighs, glancing away and then back at me again. “Also, I’ve heard rumors the CEO is a major hardass. I’d feel a little bad if he finds out and blames you, all over some crappy software bug you had nothing to do with.”
Major hardass, huh?
I suppose my reputation precedes me.
“So you’ve done your homework on Winthrope Brands. Who did you hear about the CEO from?” I ask, ordering a coffee from the waitress who stops by.
She takes a drink of her own, frowns, and sets the cup down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I should’ve asked for a refill,” she says glumly. “My coffee’s gone.”
I look around, but our waitress has disappeared.
Damn.
Then again, I own this place.
“Hold on. I’ll get you more.” I stand.
“Is that something hotel managers usually do?” She laughs.
It is when they need to survive a battery of reviews with their skin intact.
“Sure,” I lie. “The coffee is impeccable here and it shouldn’t wait. I had a hand in sourcing it myself.”
I stab at my chest proudly. She almost rolls her eyes.
Too much, I guess.
Maybe she’d be more impressed if I mentioned the fact that sourcing this coffee also had me steering my yacht into a once-in-a-century Seattle storm to help coffee mogul Cole Lancaster save his now-wife from a total psycho.
No good deed goes unpunished.
Another server who waited on me last time I was here walks by and stops with a big smile. “Ah, welcome back, Mister—”
Shit, shit.
Don’t say my name, pal. She already thinks the new CEO is a walking stick up the ass.
“Brock,” I spit quickly.
He blinks at me. “Really?”
What do you mean, 'Really?'
It’s my damn name.
“Yeah. Don’t wear it out.” I nod briskly.
I can practically feel Miss Renee’s eyes glued to me, questioning whether or not I’m sober.
He slaps my arm, beaming at me like I just loaned him my custom Tesla, a gift from a man too rich to name who knows a lot about rockets. He really enjoyed his stay in our Arizona resort with its own observatory.
“Thanks, boss. I mean Brock. Wow!” He stands woodenly. “You’re such a down-to-earth dude. You don’t deserve half the crap they give you.”
Goddamn, this kid is going to blow this and bury me alive.
“Do you need anything?”
“Two of the house coffees.”
“Sure. Do you need cream and sugar?” he asks.
“Monk fruit,” Piper says.
I stare at her. I barely know what the hell that is, but it’s her second cup of coffee, so I’m going to assume we have it.
“You heard the lady.” I nod at the kid. “Monk fruit sweetener. While you’re at it, bring her a fresh lobster omelet, too.”
“Got it! I’ll be right back.” He walks away.
I drop down across from her again.
“Oh, I usually eat light. I’m not sure I need lobster this early. I mean, sometimes I even skip breakfast. Intermittent fasting is my jam.”
Of course it is.
When you live on TikTok, you’re prone to following every damnable fitness and diet fad—even at the expense of indulging yourself for one flawless Hawaiian morning.
I try not to glare.
“Make an exception today. No one turns down free lobster,” I say, pinning on a fake smile.
“Lobster for breakfast? I know it’s Lanai, but is that even a thing among rich people tourists?”
“It is at Winthrope,” I say matter-of-factly.
I try not to let my gaze linger, or start slipping down her chest.
Fuck, I knew she was beautiful last night, but I didn’t notice the blue streaks in her chin-length blond hair, framing a pink mouth made for heaven, hell, and everything in between.