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He looked at me then with halfhearted annoyance, a common occurrence in our relationship, and replied, “My grandparents are from Sicily.”
“You havegrandparents?!”
This was news to me. The theory that’s caught the most traction in the break room is that Cole only exists here because of aMeet Joe Blacksituation—i.e., Cole is Death, taking the form of a young man toexperience life on earth. It explains the sharp-as-hell cheekbones and the fact that he can do math with inhuman speed and accuracy.
Now, here we stand, doing it again, pitting our wits against each other.
Thank god I don’t have to see Cole every day. My nerves couldn’t handle it. We work vastly different jobs here, after all. Most of the time, I’m out exploring the island with guests and he’s stuck indoors performing his number-crunching desk job. Word on the street is that he has his sights set on becoming the director of resort operations one day. It’s probably outlined meticulously in his five-year plan. It’s color coded and leather bound. He keeps it under his extrafirm pillow at night.
My five-year plan?Simple.
Enjoy life on the island.
That’s all.
Okay, notall. I would also like to experience love, and if that L-word proves too elusive, I will also happily accept lust. I even have the perfect target in mind. He’s Blaze, a new bartender in Siesta Playa’s beach lounge. I think he’s just the man I’ve been searching for—fun, easygoing, and outdoorsy. And I’m hoping beyond hope that he’s coming to the beach bonfire tonight so I have a chance to hang out with him. Our last few encounters haven’t exactly proved fruitful.
“Oh! You like smoothies too?” I asked when I walked past him in the main lobby the other day.
He frowned, completely confused.
I pointed to the smoothie in his hand, the one he was half finished with.
Still, he didn’t get it. “Oh, this? I had a coupon.”
I only planned for a discussion about blended fruit drinks, not coupons, so all my brain could come up with was “Cool, see ya.” Then I shot him some cringey double finger guns.
The next time I saw him, I was out at one of the local bars with some of my coworkers. I sidled up to him and asked over the loud music, “So, Blaze, where are you from?”
“The resort.”
I laughed and spoke up. “No, silly.Where did you come from?!”
“I came from the resort!” he shouted back.
So, okay, who cares if he’s not overflowing with brain cells ... I have enough for the two of us, right? Plus, I’ve seen him without his shirt on, and those abs will surely get us through any hiccups that might arise from stilted conversations. But it doesn’t matter now. I’ll never get to that bonfire if I don’t finish up here with Cole.
“Are we done?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest so I don’t do something stupid like yank on his tie. I want to so bad.
Cole looks me up and down, no doubt finding my Teva sandals, workout shorts, and Siesta Playa tank top sorely lacking. If he had it his way, he’d force me into a pantsuit, add a little plaque over my breast pocket, and shellac my hair to my head in a tight bun. “Why are you in such a rush? Big plans?”
I shoot him a skeptical glare.
Does he know about the bonfire?
It’s hard to tell ... I try yet fail to decipher his expression. He’s Fort Knox, this one. I don’t want to spill the beans and get anyone in trouble, but I also sometimes (very rarely) feel a little bad for Cole. As we lock eyes, I contemplate letting him in on the secret—something I’ll surely come to regret—but then he rolls his eyes.
“I already know about the bonfire.”
Suddenly, I’m on the defensive. “It’s not against the rules or anything. Théo isn’t setting it up on resort property.”
He frowns. “You act like you’re worried I’ll write you up.”
I’m not totally certain he wouldn’t ...
I mean, he hasn’t before (that I know of), but Cole isvery“by the book.” And I mean that literally—the book is actually kept in his desk drawer.
It’s why most people keep a healthy distance from him. They’re scared he’s going to run and tell Daddy on us if we step out of line. There’s more to it than just that, though. At Siesta Playa, there’s a cleardivide between management and the rest of us. There’s the group of people who run the place: the CEO, director of operations, general manager, director of food and beverage, et cetera ... I think I see those guys like once a year,tops. The rest of us have roles here that are far less glamorous: bartenders, surf instructors, boat captains, line cooks, lifeguards. We all live in staff housing on site. Picture a tiny room with a twin bed and not much else. But we make it work. Most of us are away from home and on our own, and we’re an eclectic mix: recent college graduates, retirees, nomads, nature lovers. Or in Cole’s case: stuffy boardroom types who get off on spreadsheets and ruining people’s fun.
