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“Hey, I was going to run out to pick up sushi for dinner. You cool with that?” Trent asked, popping his head around the bedroom door.
“I’m not hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
Who knows? Breakfast? The evening before? She vaguely remembered a half-eaten protein bar melting on her desk from the sun shining through her office window, but was that today or a week ago? She had no idea. “I’m fine, Trent.”
“I can get Chinese food instead from Wong’s. Your favorite.”
“Get whatever you like.” She closed down the document and opened her email.
“Do you need more wine? I could swing by the—”
“Trent! I’m good.” The look of surprise on his face made her soften her tone. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot of work to get done.” Since the Halloween party, things had gotten even more hectic. The Christmas season was fast approaching now that it was November. It was as though on the stroke of midnight on the thirty-first of October, everything went from pumpkin spice everything to peppermint and pine trees.
With theRace Across Americapitch demanding so much time, she was falling behind schedule on everything else on her to-do list.
Trent came into the room. “Anything I can help with?” He sat on the bed and shimmied closer, propping pillows behind his back, obviously intending to stay.
She couldn’t work with him distracting her. He meant well, but just the sound of his breathing was irritating when she was trying and failing to focus on the complicated legal documents she could barely read without enlarging the font on her computer.
She forced a tight smile as she turned to face him. “You know, I am hungry. Chinese food would be great.” Anything to get an hour to herself.
“Done.” Trent jumped up off the bed. “I’ll be back in a flash,” he said as he kissed her forehead and then left the room.
“Take your time,” she mumbled to herself.
…
“Hey, boss, you ready for the pitch meeting this afternoon?” Scott asked, popping his head around the corner of her office door the next day.
“Almost…” Whitney barely looked up as she answered. In two hours, they were meeting with the Hollywood executives in the hopes of selling them on the idea of Blue Moon Bay for a checkpoint stop as part of the race. The number of tourists an event like that would bring to the community during their non-peak season would give them another huge boost in becoming a better-known tourist destination. The television coverage of the beautiful small town would be worth a million dollars in advertising. It would help put Blue Moon Bay on the map, and while Whitney had been reluctant about the idea in the beginning, she was determined to succeed now.
“Need me to look over anything?”
She hesitated…
Team player, remember.
And as much as she hated to admit it, it might be a good idea to have a second set of eyes on the presentation, in case she couldn’t trust her own. “Sure. Have a seat.”
Scott sat across from her, and she printed the latest draft of the pitch, sliding it toward him while she cued up the slideshow presentation on her computer screen. He scanned the draft with all the key selling points and nodded. “This looks fantastic.”
“Really? I mean, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “It was a team effort.” The tip that the show was airing for a third season and that producers were looking for new challenge sites for contestantshadcome from Scott. “This was a great idea.”
He smiled. “Let’s see the slideshow,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of the chair to watch.
Whitney pressed play, and the pictures and video clips of the town appeared. The surfing shots had turned out perfectly, and the drone footage over Main Street and along the jagged coast was breathtaking. The sandy shores and the clear blue water. Images of Dove’s Nest B&B and the fantastic restaurants… It definitely featured all the best that Blue Moon Bay had to offer.
Ten minutes later, he was shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it. You make Blue Moon Bay sound like the best place on earth.”
“Isn’t it?”
Scott didn’t look convinced. “I’m partial to more exotic locations.”
Huh, maybe her job wasn’t in as much jeopardy as she’d thought. Scott hadn’t found a place in town, still doing the commute.
“And I get the feeling this small-town pace isn’t quite your style, either,” he said.
