Page 31 of Last Resort

That mouth.

Stop thinking about it. About him. You can’t. Simply put.

You. Can’t.

He’s your boss.

He. Is. Your. Boss.

And not only is he your boss, but he’s currently throwing you off center when you need to be at the top of your game to pull this resort transformation off.

I draw in a deep breath to reset.

“So,” Brady says, looking back and forth between the two of us, no doubt trying to figure out why there is so much tension all of a sudden. “Shall we continue then?”

“Yes. Of course.” I smile and quirk a brow. “What are your thoughts on everything, Callahan? You’ve been rather quiet. This is a Sharpe property, after all. Certainly you must have some thoughts or ideas on how to improve the experience for our guests.”

“Are we talking about retention here or the overall experience?” he asks.

“I think both are rather important,” Brady says.

“Agreed,” I add. “Then let’s focus on the experience portion first.”

“What about it?” Callahan asks. “For some of our guests, this is an experience they’ve never had before. For others, heading to a tropical resort is something they do often.”

“So it’s nothing special to them then? Just another trip among many other trips?” I ask without thinking.

“You’d hope for the experience to be special for both sets of people, but nothing is ever guaranteed,” Callahan says, angling his head to the side when his eyes meet mine.

“Clearly,” I murmur.

“Besides the obvious,” Brady says glancing at the notes he’d taken, “like better amenities and excursions, new menu items and upgrading the overall décor so it’s not so dated, how do we know if they’ll come back or not?”

“Retention,” I state.

“Coming back for more,” Callahan rephrases my words, and I swear he’s doing this to goad me. And if his words weren’t enough, the look in his eyes confirms it.

Two can play at this game.

“What about a follow-up call after they leave? Some communication. A means to let them know that even though the vacation is now over, that it and them were in fact valued while they experienced it?” I ask.

“What about those people who made it clear from the get-go—you know, the ones who didn’t check the box that said they agreed to being added to the mailing list or some bullshit like that? They don’t want added communication after they leave,” Callahan says with a shrug. “They just want to remember the experience for what it’s worth instead of messing up the memory by rehashing it.”

“I hardly think a phone call asking if they enjoyed their stay is messing up the memory,” I state, feathers more than ruffled.

“I agree with you on this, Sutton,” Brady says and then grimaces as he looks from Callahan to me and then back to Callahan as he tries to weigh how Callahan will react since he is in fact, his boss. “But I mean . . .”

“The bonus factor to making the phone call is the caller could ask the guest if there was anything we could have done to make their experience better,” I say.

“Make their experience better?” Callahan repeats absently.

I nod, fighting my smirk. That one got his attention. “Yes. Even the best experiences could use some improvement. It’s arrogant of the host to think they’re . . . flawless.”

“I like that idea,” Brady says. “The operator could go down a check sheet with questions . . .”

But I don’t hear the rest of what he says because when I turn my attention from Brady to Callahan, he is looking right at me with a crooked smirk on that gorgeous face of his. The only person at this table still talking about Ocean’s Edge is Brady because it’s clear neither Callahan nor I are.

“I’m not in disagreement,” Callahan finally acquiesces even though I know it pains him to. And I feel the slightest victory because of it. “But I’m also of the mind that we make their experience so incredible the first time around that a phone call isn’t needed to remind them of the memory.”