Page 96 of Last Resort

“You should be. But please, let me finish my diagnosis.” He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. “The complaints about malaise are simply a ruse because they are too embarrassed to admit that their man has more stamina than they do.”

“My man?” I laugh out.

“Yes. That would be me.”

“And the cure?”

“Dick.”

I burst out laughing. “So let me get this straight. The sickness is from too much dick and the cure is more dick?”

“Correct. That’s what all my schooling tells me.” He angles his head and studies me. “Seriously though, get some rest.”

“I feel like I should be there. Solomon—”

“Can be tricky, yes.” He nods. “But I assure you I’m not worried.”

“You sure? I mean—”

“Sutton. I’m a big boy. I’ve got it handled.”

“Okay. Yes. Tucking away my control freak tendencies as we speak.”

He tucks the blanket around my feet more. “Get some rest. I’ll report back with good news.”

I watch him grab his laptop and files full of papers and wonder how in the hell we went from meeting in a bar to this.

Like how is that possible?

I blow out a breath and snuggle deeper in the blanket, my head foggy (Callahan would say it’s because it’s filled with thoughts of dick), and my mind running over the whirlwind of the past few days since A.L.—After Ledger.

Because everything has changed since then. Yes, we are still keeping things secretive and on the down-low, but there is no more purposeful avoidance when the other is at the villa. There are sexy texts sent back and forth while I’m sitting at my desk and he’s in his office, and then later, strategically planned departures from said office. There are late night “working” dinners delivered from The Cove to the villa so we can laugh and talk and tease out of sight of everyone else.

And there is a lack of sleep. So much sleep lost . . . but this girl definitely isn’t complaining.

Not at all.

But the clock is counting down, the days here are numbered, and as much as I’m trying not to think about it, I’m still thinking about it.

Stop it, Sutt.

No pity.

All party.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Callahan

There’s a thrill in the art of negotiation. In sitting face to face with a smug bastard like Solomon and challenging him over and over to validate the demands he was championing for.

Keone was definitely right, though. Trouble was brewing amongst the Ocean’s Edge staff. Wage complaints, benefit grumbles, and just issues in general about shifts and overtime.

With Brady explaining the lay of the land regarding what other resorts are offering and Keone telling us what’s being said in private amongst the staff, Sutton and I were able to bring what we thought was a fair and comprehensive employment package to the table. Higher wages, more perks for the staff, guaranteed one weekend day off unless otherwise specified, matching 401(k) up to six percent, and on and on.

Of course, we thought it was fair. Solomon, on the other hand, did his job handily over the past three hours, trying to advocate for more, more, more for the staff.

Some things I budged on.