I unwrap the foil and take my time eating. Thirty minutes later, I go back inside. On the counter, there’s a note in Gran’s handwriting.
Please come see me when you return.
“Yes?” I walk toward the table where the Bees are. They’re clearly tipsy.
“Mr. Banks would like his sheets changed every morning at seven a.m. with breakfast delivered to his room.”
“That’s absurd.” I shake my head. “I’m not doing that. He can request a sheet change every three to four days and come downstairs for breakfast like every other guest we’veeverhad.”
“I told him it would cost an extra one hundred fifty dollars per day,” Gran says.
“And he agreed?” I stare at her, doing quick math. “That’s over nine thousand dollars.”
“I’m aware.” She grins. “This old dog still has some tricks. He gave permission to do the authorization on the card on file. So, starting tomorrow, please add that to your list. The last thing we need is him going to the Grand Palm. He threatened.”
“And that’s why you should all leave him alone.”
“I agree. Going forward,every requesthe has, we will fulfill it,” she tells me like she finally understands the importance of keeping Carter Banks happy. Maybe she realizes too much is banking on him staying until August 3.
I groan and go back to the front counter. This spoiled man is under my skin, and now I’m monetarily obligated to be in his room every morning at seven.
It might be the longest summer of my life.
chapter four
Carter
The beach is empty at five thirty in the morning, and I run the shore like I own this island. My shoeless feet hit the packed sand near the waterline, and it’s firm enough for me to keep a pace without sinking. The air coming off the ocean is cool, and the sky is purple at the edges, where the sun hasn’t fully committed to rising yet.
I love mornings before the world wakes up.
Yesterday, I mapped this run, and today, I’m taking the same route because routine is the only thing that’s ever kept me sane. Even in New York, I get up every morning and run three miles through Central Park. Locations change, but my habits don’t.
My brain still hasn’t clocked that I’m supposed to be relaxing because even out here, I’m mentally running quarterly projections for the Whitsworth account that Gideon is handling without me. It’s one of the largest financial accounts I’ve acquired recently. I trust him, but also that account was my personal project.
I push harder until my lungs burn, then check my watch and loop back toward the B&B because room service starts today. The thought has me grinning.
By the time I’m taking the stairs to the Captain’s Room, my legs are trembling. I strip down and step into the shower. The water pressure is terrible, which I’m accepting as part of the charm of Seaside. The showerhead sputters twice before pushing out a lukewarm stream that takes almost a minute to get hot and then it’s scalding.
“Shit.” I have to step back and adjust both sides before I can stand under it.
After washing off the sweat, I step out and dry off. Water pools at my feet and soaks through the thin towel that’s supposed to capture it.
“A fucking rug would be nice,” I mutter, standing on the cool tiles. I grab a towel that has a wave embroidered on the edge and wrap it around my waist.
The knock comes at six fifty even though I scheduled it for seven on the dot.
She’s early.
Not by much, but enough for me to notice. Punctuality is a language I speak fluently, and in my world, people who show up before they’re expected are the ones who take their work seriously. It’s a small thing that earns my respect.
“Come in,” I say.
The door is unlocked, and I’m not rushing to dress for her benefit.
A moment passes, and Wendy enters, balancing a tray with breakfast in one hand and a stack of fresh sheets tucked under her other arm. She’s wearing a teal polo withSeaside Bed & Breakfastembroidered on the chest. Her dark, wavy hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. This is Working Wendy, who is nothing like the woman I saw two nights ago on the dance floor at Cocktails & Chaos.
When she notices I’m in nothing but a towel, she stops walking. Her eyes go to my face, then drop to my chest, beforecoming back up. Drips of water fall from my hair and run down my body. The whole sequence takes about three seconds, which is just long enough for me to notice. Her lips part, and her grip tightens on the tray before she sets the food and coffee down on the desk beside the balcony doors.
