Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
I assess the vast group of hopefuls. Some of these people will know me as their boss beginning next week—a reality I’m still adjusting to. There are a lot of them. “Are these all Mermaid Beach locals?”
“Here and the towns over the bridge. Or seasonals who have come down with jobs already lined up but are hoping to upgrade.”
Like Sloane’s staffers, based on the tail end of that conversation I overheard. How many of her people are ready to ditch her? No wonder she has no love for Wolf. Still, it’s unhinged to react the way she did when she found out I’m working here.
But I already knew she was unhinged.
Damn it, though. How is Sloane, that beautiful creature who knelt beside me in the sand today, also the check-ripping, hateful sign-crafting, deranged neighbor who has picked a war with Henry Wolf?
“I imagine some are aiming for permanent year-round positions.” Belinda shakes her head. “Honestly, they think they can show up to an establishment like this in stained tank tops? And look, that one just came from the pool.” She juts her chin toward a young woman whose bikini has soaked through her T-shirt, leaving two round wet marks across her chest. “She wants me to trust her with cleaning a guest’s room? I could cull half these people in the next five minutes.” She pauses in her rant. “At least he looks like a serious applicant.”
I find her new target, and familiarity hits me right away. It’s Sloane’s ex, the arrogant fuck I met this morning at the Sea Witch. Well, “met” is a stretch. I witnessed him try to bully her into a favorable reference. I have no idea why they ended their engagement, but it was clearly not on good terms.
“What position is that for?” He’s dressed in a cheap suit and tie. It’s funny, I didn’t know the difference between a suit you buy at a big-box store and one made by a man named Lorenzo who shifts your ball sack to ensure the perfect fit until I met Henry.
“Bartending. Good fit. Pretty faces sell drinks. To be honest, I’m amazed you chose yard work over that. You could have raked in the tips.”
I smirk. “Are you calling me pretty?”
“You know you are.” She juts her chin at Sloane’s ex. “So does he. And barring a criminal record, Lena will take him.”
“That would be a mistake,” I say before I can stop myself. Why do I care if Sloane’s ex gets a job here? She all but told me to go fuck myself. I shouldn’t care at all, and yet the idea of him coming out on top burns, especially after watching him taunt her and how her face paled. It sounds like he’s not the only one who might want a reference from the Sea Witch—a notion that stressed her out greatly.
“Why? Do you know him?” Belinda asks.
“Not exactly.” How much do I want to share? Belinda already wants Sloane’s head on a pike. She’d hunt down and hire every Sea Witch employee out of spite. “I know his ex—”
Belinda holds up a manicured hand. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want the sordid details of what you and that fuckboy friend of yours have already gotten up to in your short time here. Speaking of fuckboys, did I hear from Henry correctly that you are giving Connor a supervisory position?”
“That’s right.” I grin. “I know him and I trust him.” For example, I know the idiot will drink too many margaritas tonight and will be nursing a brutal hangover tomorrow, but he’ll make sure to escort out the woman he brings home from the bar and lock the door behind her.
She shakes her head. “I give you three shifts until we have an HR complaint and then have fun firing your …”
Belinda’s scathing prediction fades as a swirl of familiar ash-blond hair catches my attention.
What the hell is Sloane doing here?
40. Sloane
The Wolf Hotel’s grand ballroom is jam-packed with prospective seasonal workers. Still, it took us under five minutes to find Cody.
“This is crazy. I can’t believe you talked me into this!” I hiss. And not just talked me into it. We went home and changed first. “We should go.”
“I’ve never seen him in anything but a T-shirt,” Skye whispers, ignoring me.
“His mother dressed him.” We went to a handful of events—weddings, funerals, family dinners—while we were together, and she chose Cody’s outfits every time.
“How old is he again?”
“Thirty.”
“Talk about failure to launch.”
“Still, I’m sure he’ll charm the right people.” I scan faces. Where did all these people come from? And did they do any research about Wolf Hotels before they arrived? Half of them look like they rolled out of bed to get here. I’m just a spy and even I threw on my favorite power outfit—white dress pants and a pale blue blazer over a floral print tank top.