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This work talk is bringing down my buzz. “When we get back.”
She drops her legs over the side of the lounger to sit up. Now she’s serious. “Do you think your position is in danger?”
“No.” Ha. My uncle practically made this company for me. I suppress the words so I won’t say them out loud.
“Has anything like this happened before?” Sarah is new, only six months in the position. I created it as we expanded.
I work very hard to sound serious. “No. I guess it’s a risk of growing as rapidly as we did.”
“We might need more oversight. Shouldn’t accounting have caught this?”
I struggle to make a sentence sound business-like. “It was a natural progression of the marketing budget. They only look at numbers, not the qualitative piece.”
Sarah peers into her cup. “Will you bring this up with Dougherty?”
“Certainly.”
She swirls her paper straw. “Did you know Dougherty before the start-up?”
Uh oh. We’re getting into dangerous territory for the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed. I am absolutely not allowed to reveal the family connection. I’ll have to watch my loose mouth.
“I did.” Good. Short and sweet.
Thankfully, Caleb returns, dripping in every direction.
“Hey!” Sarah pulls her cup out of the splash zone. “Don’t water down my drink!”
He grins at her and shakes like a dog, sending droplets flying.
I throw a towel at him, laughing. That’s more like it. We were getting way too serious with the work talk.
Caleb settles back on his lounger. “Fetch me a fresh drink, woman! Mine is all melted!”
Sarah narrows her eyes at him and pours her margarita on his chest.
“Hey! Now I’m sticky!” He scoops the slush into his hand and licks it.
Sarah shoves him away from her. “Gross! Get back in the water and wash it off!”
Caleb grins at her. “You lick it off.”
I down my drink, jealousy spiking through me. I want this. The relationship. The playfulness. I have to look away.
But when I turn my head toward the huts, I spot Gloria trudging through the sand, a worried expression on her face. Her flowery cover-up flies behind her in the breeze, and her gray hair is a tangle of curls. She’s headed in our direction.
“Uh oh,” Sarah says. “We’re gonna get busted by HR.”
“Shhh,” Caleb says. “You talk too much when you’re drunk.”
“You talk too loud.”
Gloria stops next to my chair. “Mr. Armstrong?”
I sit up on the lounger. “Why so glum, Gloria? It’s vacation! Have a margarita! Slurp some oysters.”
Her lips pinch into a frown. “I’m allergic.”
“To alcohol?”
