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“Well, Mr. Meyer is a hardworking member of the team and is, at present time, enjoying two weeks of his earned vacation. All we ask is that these days are respected. And Briggs? He’s spoken highly of you and your work ethic. I have every confidence that you’re fully equipped to handle whatever crisis has just occurred. You have the voice of a competent man.”
Phillip is grinning now.
“Um, thanks. Right. Well… I’ll send him an email, then.”
“Don’t,” I say, “unless someone is dying. Is someone dying, Briggs?”
“No.”
“Then, he’ll be back in the office in due time. Have a great day!” I say and hang up. My hand is shaking when I put the phone back down on the table. “Oh my God, that was an adrenaline rush!”
“You have,” Phillip parodies, “the voice of a competent man?”
I chuckle. “A little flattery never hurts?”
He grins. “You really are wild.”
“That’s two superlatives in one week. Am I really that crazy?”
“You just never react the way I expect you to. Hell,” he says and chuckles darkly, “that probably made my year.”
“I wasn’t too harsh?” I reach for my piña colada and take a long, calming sip.
“He’s a corporate lawyer,” Phillip says. “That phone call with you was probably the nicest he’s had all day.”
“Wow.”
He chuckles again. “You’re answering all of my phone calls from now on. I have a few other people you’re welcome to give the same treatment to.”
“I think you’re fully capable of saying that to them yourself. But you don’t.” I lift my eyebrows. “Maybe you secretly like working twenty-four-seven?”
The amusement on his face fades like dissipating ripples on water. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before. Good thing you’re here, then. Can’t work when you’re around.”
“You can’t?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t want to miss whatever stunt you’ll pull next. Plenty of things to fall into around here.”
I hold up my drink. “Well, for my next trick, I’m going to make this piña colada disappear. Please observe.”
He watches me lock my lips around the straw, face oddly serious. Like he’s studying me doing it. Something flips over in my stomach.
“I’m watching,” he murmurs. Then, he clears his throat and takes the sunglasses off his head, resting them on the table between us. “I’m going in the water.”
“Need to cool down?”
“Something like that,” he mutters and heads toward the sea. I watch as he wades out until the waves reach his hips and then dives in, his broad shoulders emerging again in a crawl.
He swims back and forth along the shore, far enough out that he’s not bothered by any of the other tourists swimming in the shallower waters.
He returns a long time later and stretches out beside me, droplets drying on his skin.
I flip the next page in my novel. I’m nearly at the climax, at the point where the story tips from the predictable to chaotic, and I have a few theories about what’ll happen. Finding out if I’m correct is the best part of every reading experience. It’s like I’m solving a puzzle along with the characters.
“What are you reading?” he asks without opening his eyes.
I curl my fingers around the top of the book, keeping my place. “A cozy mystery.”
“Acozymystery?”
