Boss With Benefits (A Lantana Island Romance Book 1)

by Talia Hunter

  His heart contracted and he sat forward with a jerk, his hands fisting on the arms of his chair. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me go home.”

  “Oh.” He sighed the word. His hands relaxed a little, but his heart was still beating too fast. “Shit,” he murmured. “You scared me. For a moment I thought you meant… something else.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m afraid…” He hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell her. But they couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change. “I can’t let you end up like Dad,” he said, his voice tight. “But the more I try to stop it, the more it’s happening, right in front of my eyes.” He swallowed, his throat thick. “Dammit, Tiny, I can’t let it happen to you.”

  She frowned. “Like Dad?” she repeated.

  “Maybe you were too young to see how bad he was. Those months after the storm, when he didn’t talk, or eat, or help the team that came to rebuild the resort. He didn’t even want to touch us.” Dalton heard the bitterness in his voice, and was a little surprised that the memory still hurt so much after all these years. “Then he sent us away, so we wouldn’t get in the way of him drinking himself to death. All he cared about was killing the pain.” His fingers were digging into the arms of the chair, Dalton realized. Just thinking about his father made him want to punch something.

  “I’m not him,” said Tiny. For the first time since they’d got to Sydney, her voice didn’t sound flat and emotionless.

  “Damn right, you’re not going to be anything like him. I’m going to get Doctor Cooper to take you on, and he’ll make your right arm work again. He’ll make it so you can paint again.” He shouldn’t promise her something that might be impossible, but the words tumbled from him anyway. “I’ll fix everything, Tiny, you’ll see. I’ll give you your life back and make you happy again.”

  Tiny leaned forward in her chair, her useless right arm in her lap. At least her eyes held a spark now. “It’s not up to you. This is my life. You don’t get to fix it.”

  “But Tiny, I need to—”

  “No.” She all but shouted the word. “I’m not Dad. I’m not going to kill myself.”

  He stared at her, shocked. There it was, out in the open. His worst fear stripped bare. Technically, their father hadn’t actually killed himself, but that’s exactly what he’d done. Just because it had taken a few years didn’t mean it wasn’t suicide.

  Maybe he should deny that he was terrified Tiny might do something drastic to end her pain. But he couldn’t say a word.

  Tiny’s expression softened. “You love me, I know. But you need to back off.” She grabbed her limp right hand with her left one, picked it up, then let it flop. “I hate this. But I’ll get through it. Let me do it on my own.”

  Finally, he found his voice. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “Yeah.” Her lips twitched, and amazingly enough, she gave him a glimpse of her uneven smile. “So, stop pushing me around.”

  Dalton let out his breath, his chest loosening. That was the first smile he’d seen from her since they’d arrived in Sydney. God, what an idiot he was. He’d been so sure she’d be happy once she was here and had some hope of being able to use her arm again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to take her good hand in his. “I wanted to do the right thing. I thought if you stopped fighting me, you’d see this was the only place you’re safe.”

  “I’ll never stop fighting.”

  Dalton mouth twisted ruefully. “You’re almost as stubborn as…” He hesitated.

  “As Rosa?”

  Hearing Rosa’s name made Dalton’s heart jump. He could see her in his mind’s eye. Training on the beach, the way she’d attacked him with such fierce determination. He was twice her size, but she’d got mad with him when she’d suspected he was holding back.

  And Tiny had that same fire, didn’t she? At least, she used to. If his sister fought like that, nothing could beat her.

  Thinking about Rosa, his expression must have changed, because Tiny squeezed his hand. “You should talk to her.”

  He’d been wanting to talk to Rosa since he left Fiji. But he shook his head. “That would only make things worse.” Rosa was happy on Lantana, working for the resort’s new owner. She was safe there, away from her stalker, and the last thing he’d do was bring her to Sydney if it meant putting her in harm’s way.

  Besides, he couldn’t ask her to give up Lantana for him. She’d called him selfish, and maybe he was. But he’d seen how much she loved her new life on the island. Asking her to leave wouldn’t be fair.

  His cellphone rang. The number flashed on the screen. An international number. It was Fiji. Rosa.

  He snatched up the phone and walked quickly away from Tiny to have a little privacy on the call. Despite all his good intentions, his pulse was beating a quick, hopeful rhythm. “Hello?”

  As soon as he heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line, his hope faded. Not Rosa.

  “Mr. Knight? This is Dorothy calling from the Nadi Animal Rescue Center. Have you got a moment to talk?”

  “Sure.” He swallowed his disappointment. “It’s about Crusoe? Have you found someone to adopt him?”

  She hesitated. “I’m afraid we haven’t. And we simply can’t keep him any longer. When you brought him in, did the person you spoke to explain that older cats are harder to find homes for? Unfortunately, people usually want kittens because they’re so cute, and the older cats get left—”

  “What exactly are you planning to do with Crusoe?” Dalton interrupted.

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling. Occasionally the people who brought an animal in have better luck in finding a home for them. So, we wanted to give you a little bit of notice in case you want to ask around, check whether any friends or family members will take him. You understand that we don’t like to euthanize unwanted animals, but if neither of us can find a permanent home for your cat…”

  Dalton closed his eyes. “How long has he got?”

  “A week today.”

  “And if I donate to your shelter? Can I extend that time?”

  “Donations are always welcome, of course. But the problem is that Crusoe isn’t coping well with being caged. He must have been running wild for a while, and older cats can find it harder to adjust. He’s barely eating and we’re worried about his health.”

  Shit. “Then here’s what I want you to do. Next time a nice, kind person comes in looking for a pet, tell them I’ll give them five thousand dollars to adopt Crusoe.”

  The woman hesitated. “Okay,” she said finally. “We could try that. But the kind of person who’d take a cat for the money might not be the kind of person who’ll look after him the way you want.”

  Dammit, the woman was determined to make this as difficult as it could be. What use were all those zeros in his bank account if they couldn’t fix a problem like this?

  “Don’t put him to sleep.” Dalton’s tone was reinforced with steel. “Give me a little time to find a solution.”

  “All right. But if his condition gets any worse, we’ll have no choice.”

  After he’d hung up, Dalton stared at the phone for a long time. What could he do? Fly Crusoe to Sydney? But he’d brought Tiny a penthouse apartment, completely impractical for a cat used to the wilds of Lantana.

  It would have been easier if the woman had never called. Then he could have imagined the cat had been adopted and was with a loving family.

  Having to leave Crusoe felt almost as bad as leaving Rosa, but for a different reason. It was agonizing to know Crusoe was suffering when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Leaving Rosa behind had meant he was the one who was suffering.

  Just once, he’d like there to be an easy answer. Was that too much to ask for?

  22

  “All done in here?” asked Smythe, coming into Tiny’s living room.

  Rosa straightened her aching back and looked down at the box she
’d almost finished packing. “Not much longer.” The sale of the resort had been finalized a couple of days ago, and Smythe had been staying in one of the bures while Rosa packed up Tiny’s belongings. She’d refused to let a bunch of strangers come in to go through Tiny’s things.

  Smythe checked his watch. “Don’t forget to meet the ferry.”

  “Never do,” said Rosa with an edge in her voice. Then she caught herself. After all these years working with the public, she’d prided herself on being hard to provoke. Not anymore, it seemed.

  “I also need to talk to you about tomorrow’s cocktail party,” said Smythe, pushing his glasses up his nose. The day he’d arrived, Smythe had informed her the place was barely breaking even and he meant to change that. He’d been cost-cutting ever since, and she already knew what he was going to say next.

  “What about it?” She squared her shoulders, mentally preparing for another fight she wouldn’t win.

  “It doesn’t make sense for us to be providing the guests with free drinks and food on a weekly basis.”

  “It’s only punch and nibbles. The guests enjoy mingling together, and they always stay on after it ends, paying for their own drinks.”

  “Last week’s party cost us two hundred and eighty-seven dollars. And that’s not including losses from the drinks our guests would have bought for themselves during the time we were supplying them for free.”

  “But you can’t run a resort from a spreadsheet. You need to provide a certain amount of—”

  “Just cancel it,” snapped Smythe.

  Rosa looked down at the almost-full box and felt her shoulders sag. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Smythe turned for the door. “How much longer in here?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Just one room left to pack up. I’ll get it finished today.”

  After Smythe left, Rosa picked up the bottle of champagne she’d brought from Sydney. It was unopened, of course. A symbol of how naive she’d been, thinking Tiny would one day be able to share a glass with her. When they’d promised each other they’d drink it in good times or bad, she’d never imagined a time like this. Maybe she should pour the stuff down the toilet. But it had been a gift for her friend, and throwing it away would be like giving up all hope.

  She wrapped the bottle up carefully, and put it in the box with the rest of Tiny’s things. Then she took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare herself before going into the room she’d left for last. Dalton’s room. She’d only been in here once before, the night they’d spent together. Tiny’s paintings still hung on the walls, and she’d need to wrap those and pack them into crates for shipping.

  Rosa stared at the bed, her heart thudding. She and Dalton had spent a single, perfect night there. And there was still a dent on the pillow from his head. She had to force herself not to sit on the bed and run her hand across it.

  Instead she pulled the closet open. Tiny and Dalton had left Fiji with little more than the clothes they were wearing, but Dalton hadn’t brought that much with him to start with. There were only a few clothes hanging there, and probably some more in the drawers. She should throw them quickly into a box, and ignore the trace of his cologne that wafted from them. What she definitely shouldn’t do was step forward to let the scent fill her lungs.

  It smelled so good. When she closed her eyes she could see him in front of her, his broken eyebrow lifted into an arch, and the corners of his lips curled up.

  No, she couldn’t cry. She squeezed her eyelids as tightly closed as she could, refusing to let even a drop of moisture escape. If Smythe came back in, he wouldn’t catch her sobbing in here like a heartbroken fool.

  Time to pack all this up. To get it all out of her life before she fell apart.

  She grabbed a box and threw all Dalton’s clothes in, hardly bothering to fold them. Then his books about stroke rehabilitation, and the carving tools he’d left on his dresser. Was that it? No, wait, there was a drawer in the bedside table, too. Rosa tugged it open and her breath snagged in her throat.

  Slowly, she reached in and drew out the piece of wood. It was the driftwood Dalton had picked up on the beach the evening of the wedding.

  When Dalton had shown it to her, it had been a gnarled and twisted piece of wood about three times the size of her hand. Now there was a person’s face carved into it, the features somehow emerging from the natural shape of the wood as though it was the wind, sand, and sea that had etched it there. The rough part at the top was now hair, and the tapered part at the bottom, a long and elegant neck. The face seemed to belong in the wood, like it had always been there, waiting to come out.

  Rosa drew in her breath. The carving was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  It was her face. Her eyes and nose and hair. Her lips curved into a smile.

  The wood was porous, with its natural holes and knobs part of the carving. It made Rosa look wild, like she was half mermaid, with rough hair blowing around her face.

  Heart aching, she gently traced the shape of her nose. This was how she’d always wanted to be. Wild, free, and fearless. Could this really be how Dalton saw her? Or had it somehow been a happy accident that he’d brought to life the essence of what she wanted most?

  “Rosa Roughknuckles,” she murmured. Dalton had told her the name suited her. But she didn’t feel like that person at all, especially since Dalton had gone. She’d lost whatever fire she’d once had. It had been chiseled out of her, along with her heart.

  Sinking onto Dalton’s bed, she cradled the carving in both hands. If only she could take in the carving’s essence, to restore what she’d lost. He must have carved her likeness from memory. The thought of him recalling every detail of her face and etching it into the wood made her throat close up.

  God, missing him felt like she’d taken a knife in the guts. And the worst part? This pain was her own stupid fault. She’d known all along that sleeping with Dalton was a bad idea. She’d never been good at casual relationships, and up until now had been careful about not jumping into anything she wasn’t sure of. Her heart had always been her biggest weakness, and she’d hung it on a target for him.

  Her cellphone rang, and she tugged it out of her pocket. It was number she didn’t recognize. A Sydney number. Dalton? Heart leaping, she answered it. “Hello?”

  Carin’s voice came on the line. “It’s me.”

  Rosa let out her breath, disappointment making her sag. “Hi. How come you’re not calling on your cellphone?”

  “I’m using Jake’s phone. I left my phone at home, and I’m at the police station.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Giving a statement. It’s taking a while, so I thought I may as well ring you while I wait.”

  “Carin, what happened?”

  “Don’t sound so panicked, sis, I’m fine. Just had a little break-in at my place.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Promise not to freak out?”

  “Carin, I swear, if you don’t tell me what happened right now, I’m going to—”

  “Okay, okay. Well, I worked the early shift, and when I got home, I went in as usual. I put my bag down, kicked off my shoes, and went to the fridge to grab a drink. That’s when I saw there was a dead bird on my kitchen counter, and the back door was open. The lock was splintered. I didn’t know if the person who broke in was still inside, so I ran. I didn’t grab anything on the way out. Not my shoes, or my bag, or my phone. I went to Jake’s, and he gave me his phone and dropped me off at the police station to report it. Then he took off to my place. I think he was ready to channel Jason Bourne and go into full attack mode if the burglar was still there.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He rang a little while ago to say there was nobody there when he arrived. He sounded disappointed. But apart from a poor dead sparrow on my counter, it seems like there’s no damage, and nothing’s been stolen. Just my door bashed in and some feathers to clean up. Jake said Rusty was fine, which was what I was really worried about. At
least that loser didn’t hurt him.”

  Rosa gripped the phone hard enough that her hand hurt. “You told me you were staying at Jake’s.”

  “I am. But I still have to feed Rusty.”

  “You’ve been going back to your house every day to feed the cat?” Rosa fought the urge to scream at her sister. “What the hell?”

  “Well, I couldn’t exactly let him starve. And he wouldn’t travel well. He’s too old and stuck in his ways to take him to Jake’s with me.”

  Rosa let her breath out, staring down at the carving. Enough was enough. Otto was her problem, and it wasn’t right that Carin had to deal with him. Rosa couldn’t stay on Lantana knowing Otto’s psychotic tendencies had kicked into full gear.

  “I’m coming to Sydney,” she said, making up her mind.

  “When?”

  “Now. Right away. I’m going to deal with Otto so he doesn’t bother you again.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Truthfully? I have no idea.”

  She found Smythe in the office she still thought of as Dalton’s. She was still carrying the carving, because she couldn’t bear to let it go. When she went in, she saw he was busy analyzing his precious figures.

  “Tomorrow’s my day off,” she said. “But I need to take an extra day.”

  He looked up and frowned. “Two days off? You get one day a week.”

  “My sister’s in trouble and I need to leave right away.” She stared him down, telling rather than asking. “I’m getting on the next ferry, and I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know, Rosa. I don’t think it’s a good time for you to be—”

  “It’s important. I have to go. I won’t take any time off next week to make up for the extra day. Or you can dock my pay. Either way.”

  He sighed, frowning at his spreadsheet. Was getting rid of her going to be the next cost-cutting measure? Smythe had to have considered it. The thought made her squeeze her hands into fists. She loved it here. Loved the island, her job, the other employees. But it meant nothing if she wasn’t the person she wanted to be, and that person needed to make sure Carin was safe.