I don’t respond because I don’t know what to say. It’s not something I can worry about right at this moment.
By noon, the first floor is secured. Carter got the generator running and has stacked empty gas cans along the sidewalk. His shirt is damp and clinging to his chest, and I hand him a bottle of water. Dehydration is the last thing we need today. A line of sweat runs down the side of his neck and disappears under his collar. I stare longer than I should.
“See something you like?” he asks.
“See something I want.”
He laughs and tips the bottle back again, drinking the rest of it. He squeezes the plastic into a little ball, then continues working.
Josie shows up around one with Mia by her side. Josie drops her tote bag on the front desk and pulls out a week calendarwith color tabs. Each one represents a different type of post. For weeks, she’s focused on building the B&B’s social media presence.
“We’re photographing the rooms, the lobby, and the grounds today,” Josie announces. “Lifestyle shots for the website and socials.”
“Today?” I ask, looking at her like she’s living in la-la land. “Are you aware we’re under a warning?”
“Yes, I am,” Josie says. “I’m trying to beat it. If there is any damage, it won’t stop my posts. We need content scheduled and ready to go. Momentum doesn’t pause for weather.”
She’s not wrong; however, storms tend to fuck up everyday life.
“Please stay out of our way the best you can, okay? We don’t have time today.”
“You won’t even notice me.”
Because of Josie’s work and her storytelling abilities, we’ve had consistent bookings. I haven’t thanked her enough.
Mia moves through the B&B, snapping photos of the staircase, the dining room windows, the view from the second-floor landing. She’s good at this, and her enthusiasm is contagious. When she finds Carter standing on a ladder, she grins and lifts the camera.
“Don’t move,” she says. “The light is doing everything right now.”
He glances down, and she takes three quick shots. She turns the screen toward me on her way past. “Look at that. Stunning photo.”
It is.
He looks relaxed and genuinely happy. Seeing him through Mia’s eyes makes it harder to pretend what we have is casual. She framed him on that ladder, helping, like he belongs here. Like he’s part of the place.
“You should let me shoot you two together sometime,” she says, already moving toward the kitchen. “Something casual. Nothing staged.”
“Only if you tell me who you’re seeing,” I say, lifting my brows. Two of us can play this game.
Mia laughs. “The world is my oyster, Wendy Winslow.”
“You’re such a liar,” I say, following behind her. “I can tell.”
“I’d suggest you focus on your own love life. Mine’s not interesting.”
Josie bumps my shoulder once Mia disappears around the corner. “She won’t tell you.”
“Do you know?”
Josie shrugs. “I’m a vault, sis.”
By late afternoon, the B&B is different. The patio is cleared, the generator is fueled, and there’s enough water in jugs to wash hands and flush toilets for a week. My arms are sore from lifting heavy things, and there’s a bruise forming on my shin, where I bumped into the storage room door. Carter did most of the work and didn’t complain once.
Before the end of the shift, Gran sits me down. “We might have to cancel reservations. It would be in our best interest to tell everyone who’s currently staying at the B&B that they need to find shelter elsewhere.”
My hands freeze. “Carter too?”
“He can stay because we have a contract saying we’re not responsible for him, thanks to the surf lessons. Everyone else should probably go to the Grand Palm. It’s safer.”
