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Grant could manage that, if he focused and used more than four fingers.But he liked pecking away with the first two fingers on each hand, and he didn’t need his ring or pinky fingers to send texts.
“You know the computer programs?Spreadsheets?”
“I’m Spreadsheet-certified,” she said, swiping on her phone.“I took a course a few months ago.”She held up her phone, and it had some official-looking seal on it, and Grant barely looked at it.
“There’s some filing,” he said, standing and holding back the tide of papers that threatened to slide off the desk.“Maybe answering the phone every now and then.”
“I can do that,” Vanessa said.She too stood, and Grant had no idea how a woman could stand in shoes with such a high, pinpoint heel.She surveyed his desk, which Grant could admit looked like a bomb had exploded out sticky notes, printouts, and Mad Mango cups.
“I can get this cleaned up,” she said.“Organized.Filed.No problem.”
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.“Why do you work at Vipers then?”
She shrugged one shoulder, the paper-thin strap threatening to slide off.“My brother owns it.I’ve been there for ten years, and I don’t know.I don’t hate it, and he needs me.”She looked back at Grant, delight dancing in her eyes now.“You should’ve seen his office before I went in and straightened it up.”
He chuckled and stuck out his hand.“All right, Miss Vanessa.You got the job.You can start…Monday.”That would give him some time to get a desk set up for her.
“Perfect,” she said.“I don’t normally work this late into the morning.”
“Sounds great,” he said.“This will all be waiting for you, just like this.”
She giggled and turned to leave the management office.
“Oh, and you can just wear something casual,” he said.“No dresses or heels needed here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, throwing a smile over her shoulder.
Grant watched her leave, then rounded his desk again.His phone flashed at him, and he sighed wearily as he picked it up.Probably someone on the island with some problem he needed to fix as soon as possible.All tourists thought their issues had to be remedied in the next ten minutes, and Grant usually tried to deliver that kind of customer service.
Cass had texted, and Grant leaped right back to his feet, his pulse also doing cartwheels behind his ribs.Bea says she needs help at the cottage, the message said.I’m going to send you her number so you can talk to her directly.
As he watched, Bea’s name and number arrived in the text string for customers, and Grant couldn’t help laughing.He tapped, told his phone toyes, please call Bea, and lifted the device to his ear.
“Hello?”Bea asked, her voice about like it had been when she’d demanded to have half a banana in her smoothie.
“Hey,” he said easily, heading for the front window.It overlooked a bank of seagrass that usually waved in the breeze, and beyond that, he could see the ocean.He wasn’t right on the water, but he had a sandy trail that led from his office, past two more rows of houses, and then the beach expanded north and south.“It’s Grant Turner.”
“Oh, Grant,” Bea said, relief filling her voice.“Cass said she’d text you to call me.I didn’t have your number.”
“You’ve got it now.What’s up?”He told himself not to expect a lunch invitation.After dinner last night, she’d said she usually didn’t eat out, and she probably wouldn’t be hungry for days.
“The water heater doesn’t seem to be working.”A clang sounded on her end of the line that made Grant step toward the exit immediately.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Mister Turner, that I just got out of the shower, and the water was nearly ice cold—after only eight minutes.”
He grinned at that Southern snap in her tone.He sure did like that, and he couldn’t help picturing her wrapped in one of the white rental towels, poking a butter knife at the water heater in the beach cottage.
“I’m on my way,” he said.“Ten minutes.”
“Okay,” she said.“Thank you, Grant.”
He’d never wished to own the Batmobile until that drive from his office on the beach, down a very crowded road that ran parallel to the sand, to her cottage.People stood everywhere, even right out in the middle of the road.Just when he managed to get past a family of bikers, he got behind two trucks hauling sand whose drivers didn’t seem to know where to go.
It took fifteen minutes for him to get to Bea, by which time she’d styled her hair into a wave that went from right to left and made her facial structure appear even more stunning than it already did.“Wow,” he said when he got out of the car and met her eyes.She sat on the steps, fully clothed in a pair of black shorts and a tank top the color of wet sand.
He noticed a marked difference between the way he reacted to her and the way he’d reacted to Vanessa, meaning as he walked toward Bea, fireworks went off behind his tongue.When Vanessa had walked in, Grant had actually thought about taking a nap.
