But she’s been working from home all day.
And how could you mistake an interview that happened just an hour ago?
There’s—there’s some kind of good explanation. There’sgotto be.
Like what?the devil on my shoulder taunts.Like a shiny, new opportunity popped up, and no matter how hard she tries, part of her will always think she belongs in the city?
“I’m sorry, do you know her?”
Anopounds against my throat.I want to be done with this conversation, pretend it isn’t happening. But—my fingers tighten on the wheel—it is.
Eliza…damn…Eliza just took an interview, and the reference call mistakenly came to me instead of Anson. Good fucking thing for her, because if ithadgone to him after she’d accepted the position, Anson might be pissed enough to rescind her offer.
If she even wants it?
Jesus.
“Hello?” the woman prompts.
“Yes, I know her,” I say, forcing my voice to work.
Then I proceed to tell her about the most incredible woman I know, the one I’ve irrevocably fallen for, who owns my goddamn heart—who couldn’t possibly feel the same way about me, because if she did, she wouldn’t have said one thing to my face last night, then gone behind my back and done another over her fuckinglunch hour.
36
ELIZA
I haven’t feltthe urge to skip since I was a child, but I’m practically hopscotching around the farm when I arrive to shoot some late-day content, the afternoon sun reflecting a vivid gold on the water. My smile is overly bright, my voice too high-pitched as I make small talk with the team, but I don’t care.
I just gave a masterclass-level performance in my interview.
I know this because the Marketing VP called me three hours after our video call to offer me the position. A thirty-percent increase from my last job’s salary, decent paid time off, a lunch stipend, a gym stipend, an expanded cubicle next to windows, and a clearly structured promotion plan, plus a signing bonus that would cover four months’ rent, and maybe a tropical vacation, too.
They wanted me so badly, they put together the prettiest list of perks that’s ever been written in Times New Roman—as if a list of perks, written beneath a strict list of heavy responsibilities, makes this an impassablygoodopportunity for me. A big, exciting step in the right direction, with all the privileges that indicate forward progress.
Two months ago, it would have been. But now, my definition ofgood for meisn’t as narrow. I’m still figuring out what that definition is, still questioning if changing it will even be the right choice in the end.
But my fresh signature on Anson Gold’s contract should help me figure that out.
And the fact that I’m prancing around the farm with a goofy grin is a promising sign that thisisa step in the right direction.
I’m leaning against the warehouse wall, throwing together a basic post, when Grayson’s skiff finally pulls into the dock. As Mark ambles off the boat with orange baskets in his hand, I head down to say hello, the pep in my step getting peppier at the sight of Grayson’s sturdy form.
It’s only been a few hours, but I miss Grayson like some lovesick schoolgirl. Maybe it’s silly, but there’s no need to stifle the impulse. There’s nodesireto.
Not when Grayson’s so obviously intent on embracing me, and I’m just as wrapped up in him.
He’s turned away from me, stacking two crates of oysters when I step on the dock. “Hey, farmer,” I drawl.
I’m prepared to be struck by his good-natured grin, the one his rugged face wears so well, or maybe some kind of quip.
So I’m caught off-guard when Grayson’s back stiffens and his arms freeze. After a momentary pause, he resumes his work.
My enthusiasm stutters. “Bad day?”
Had he gotten a call about Dawson? Maybe there was an issue out on the farm?
“Not as good as yours,” comeshis flat reply.
