The idea of Georgie writhing naked beneath some sheep farmer with dirt under his fingernails while he undoes her bra with a fishing knife makes me want to put my fist straight through the nearest available surface.
A sharp intake of breath behind me makes me turn.
She stands frozen in the doorway, changed into dark jeans and a jumper. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”
“This is what you’re here for then?”
“No! It’s not like that—”
“This is a work trip,” I snarl. “Not your personal fucking sex safari.”
Her mouth opens. Shuts again.
“Number one priority is ‘athletic sex.’” I glare at her. “Any farmer will do, apparently. You’ve got contingency plans. Fishermen. A fucking lighthouse keeper, for Christ’s sake. What’s next, the village postman? The bloke who collects the bins?”
Her face is scarlet, but I’m nowhere close to finished.
“And meanwhile, the one thing you’re here to do? That’s sitting at number seven like an afterthought. Though I notice ‘make Patrick choke on his words’ rated high enough to make the cut.”
“This is completely”—she swallows hard—”inappropriate. I’m not … this isn’t a topic I’m comfortable discussing with my boss.”
“I’m telling you right fucking now—tick everything else off that list, sample all the whisky you want, pet every damn sheep on this island, but you’re not ticking off item one.” The words rip out of me. Her eyes widen. “Not on my watch.”
“This has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Well, it’s plastered across your kitchen wall now, isn’t it? Right in my face. We have professional standards here. I don’t fly staff up from London so they can shag their way through the island like it’s bloody sex tourism. That’s not exactly a good look for company reputation.”
As the words leave my mouth, I realize how pathetically thin they sound.
But I can’t stop myself.
“In my defense,” she stammers, “you came to my cottage uninvited.” She sucks in a shaky breath. “It was just me… trying to step outside my comfort zone for once. I never—work is all I ever—”
“Like I said, it’s not happening.”
She stares at me. “You’re actually forbidding me to have—to have—” Her hands flap helplessly.
“Yes, I bloody well am.”
She blinks like she’s trying to wake up from a nightmare. “I really,reallywant to drop this subject, but I have to point out—oh God—there’s nothing in the company travel policy that says I can’t… do… things.”
“I just made it policy. Effective immediately.”
The room goes silent except for her ragged breathing.
“You can’t possibly think you have the right to—”
“I’m your boss. And Jake’s mate. Which means I’ve got every right.”
I can hear how ridiculous I sound. But I can’t seem to stop myself.
She takes a shuddering breath. “But that’s double standards. I can’t imagine you stopping yourself from doing whatever—whoever—you want.”
“That’s different,” I grind out.
“Why?”
“Because I bloody well say so.”
