The Perfect Kiss

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The Perfect Kiss Page 12

by Susan Hatler


  Embraced in each other’s arms under the pale moonlight, I snuggled deeper into Brody’s arms, resting my cheek against his strong chest. I listened to his rhythmic breathing and steady pulse, soothing like the waves rolling against the shore. In this moment, nothing else mattered. I felt the magic of a new legend surround me—the promise of a perfect love that would never end.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My date with Brody last night had put me on an amazing high. Now reality set back this morning, and a feeling of dread held settled over me. Greta’s anguish over Scotty felt like looking in the mirror. We’d all been there before. Her current state of sadness reminded me of the downside to risking my heart.

  As the women trickled into the dining room for breakfast, I stared out at the spectacular views of the bay. That morning the local windsurfing club was out in full force, so the sparkling blue water was dotted with splashes of color pushing along the breaking waves by the gusts that brought the salty smell through our open windows.

  I’d had the caterer prepare stuffed French toast in various flavor profiles, and there was fresh squeezed orange juice with a hint of lemon zest. The combination brought out the citrus flavor to such an intense degree that I always ended up feeling like I’d eaten ten oranges. I needed the boost of energy after staying out so late with Brody.

  Just as I finished off the last bite of tiramisu French Toast, I heard sniffling coming from behind me. I turned to find Greta, wearing gray sweats and a sloppy ponytail. Her eyes and nose were red, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Before I could reach out to Greta, Erin crouched down next to her, handing her a tissue. “Greta? Are you all right?”

  “You’re very kind,” Greta said. She accepted the tissue, squeezed the white paper in her hand, then promptly began sobbing. “I . . he . . .” Her shoulders shook, and she couldn’t get out a full sentence.

  Erin glanced over at me and my gaze immediately darted around the room.

  Janine caught my eye and hurried over. “Can I help?”

  “Yes.” I leaned close to her ear, so the others wouldn’t hear. “I need to talk with everyone about what’s on the agenda today. Would you mind taking Greta to her room? She doesn’t appear to be up for activities this morning. Something’s going on and she asked me to treat her like one of the guests.”

  “Sure, whatever you need,” Janine replied, giving me a warm smile.

  I smiled back. “Please get her dressed and put together. Then read her a chapter from Men: Who Needs Them? for inspiration. Hopefully she’ll feel better after you finish. Thanks so much.”

  “Not a problem,” she replied, then put her arm around Greta, and helped her leave the room.

  My heart broke for my mentor. I still couldn’t believe we’d exchanged roles. But I’d made her a promise, and I wouldn’t let her retreat fall apart while she was grieving. She’d never forgive me. Maybe allowing herself to grieve in front of other women had more healing powers than keeping the pain hidden, or going through heartbreak alone. Suddenly, my dad calling me so frequently made sense. He was grieving, and had reached out to me, in his way, by holding on to hope. I had to give Greta hope that she’d heal, too.

  Once Janine and Greta were out of sight, I clapped my hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Today’s going to be super fun.”

  In response, I received a few arched brows and surreptitious glances.

  Grimacing, I forged ahead. “This morning we’re going to take some time for ourselves, and journal about what makes us really happy. Like soul deep. This afternoon, we’ll break into teams and have a sandcastle competition down at the beach. Doesn’t that sound great?”

  Sophia made an approving sound. “I’m thankful for any chance to soak up some of the glorious California sun. There’s no beach in Wyoming.”

  A few of the ladies chuckled. The room lapsed into silence as everyone turned back to their breakfast. I felt an unspoken question permeating the air, but was desperate to keep at Greta’s privacy as much as possible. So, I threw out a new topic to the gals at the dining table. “How do you feel the temptation challenge is going with having the guys around? Do you feel like the retreat is giving you the strength to resist a man’s help and grow more independent?”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I pictured my date with Brody. Laughing with him over dinner. Walking on the beach hand in hand. Kissing by the monument. I’d completely given in to temptation, but the funny thing was I didn’t feel weak at all. I felt empowered.

  “I’ll respond, since nobody else is willing.” Erin glanced around the table and a few of the women looked embarrassed. “Some of us have been talking. We’re here to get independent, but none of us want to become hermits once the retreat is over. Greta’s book doesn’t really talk about this, but does being independent mean we can’t have a man in our life?”

  Before I could answer, Amy chimed in. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. Men: Who Needs Them? saved me when I needed the strength to get over my break-up, and Greta is obviously a literary genius.” She paused and everyone at the table nodded, murmuring words of agreement. “But what happens when we meet a guy we could get serious about? Will that make us less independent?”

  “I agree with Erin and Amy.” Silvi sat across the table, drumming her manicured nails on the table. “I’ve been having the time of my life getting to know all of you, catching a fish for the first time, and even changing the tire on a car.” She laughed, a soft melodic sound. “The whole point of the retreat is for us to learn to rely on ourselves, right? But, I’m fully capable of relying on myself and still having a boyfriend. Well, once I meet someone I like anyway.”

  “All good points.” I nodded, not knowing how to answer them. While the women seemed to have gotten Greta’s message loud and clear, their questions were completely valid. I’d been wondering how dating applies to independence as well. “There’s not a section in Greta’s book about how to handle new relationships. Maybe the next edition will be another bestseller,” I joked.

  The women laughed and began to discuss the topic with each other. I realized now that Greta didn’t mention what happens after independence, because she herself hadn’t gotten over her ex yet. Clearly she was still hung up on Scotty, so she couldn’t move on from him and find someone new to love. She remained independent and alone.

  Still, that didn’t tell me what lay ahead for Brody and me. Even as I’d been taking the lessons from Greta’s book to heart, somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for Brody. So what guidance could I give these women who had very legitimate questions about life after the retreat? Greta should write a book called, Independence: Now What?, or something like that. As soon as she got her own love life figured out, of course.

  When the conversation came to an end, I raised my hands. “Hopefully, all of our questions will be answered by the end of the retreat. Sounds like the perfect topic to ponder during our journaling assignment, though. Doesn’t it?”

  “I’ll probably use all of my pages.” Silvi smiled at me.

  I returned her smile. “Let’s all think about what makes us happy in general. Then journal on how that relates to our newfound independence. Next, write about how you could be happy with a partner, and what that means to you as far as your independence,” I said, thinking about how Brody had bought me dinner, but his gift hadn’t made me feel dependent in the slightest bit. “Those who want to can share their answers before we head down to the beach.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Erin’s face lit up, then she paused. “Will our neighbors be joining us for the sand castle activity?”

  “Not today.” I shook my head, and was about to elaborate on our sand castle event when Janine hurried into the room. Huh? Why wasn’t she with Greta? As soon as I saw the look on her face, those wide eyes and her gaping mouth, my heart sank into my stomach. I turned to the ladies. “Excuse me a minute.”

  “Thanks, Olivia,” Janine said, keeping a frozen smile on her face t
hat looked more than a little scary. Once we were safely in the hall and out of earshot, she grabbed onto my arm. “There’s a call for you on the home line. The person said they couldn’t reach you on your cell, and there’s some kind of emergency.”

  My thoughts flew to my dad. I’d known the divorce was imminent, but maybe my mom had finally served him the papers. The thought made me nauseated. Janine thrust the phone into my hand, gave me a sympathetic look, and walked away.

  “Hello?” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Olivia? It’s Erika.”

  Relived there wasn’t an emergency with my dad, I wondered what my manager from The Market wanted. Her voice from the real world invaded my luxurious retreat like an unwelcome intruder. What could be an emergency amongst frozen lobster tails?

  I paced the hall. “Hi, Erika. What’s up?”

  “Disasterville.” She groaned, her normally calm voice echoing through the phone. “I’m in Michigan for a funeral, and two people from the day shift got food poisoning. There’s nobody to cover for them. I need you to fill in their shift right away.”

  I held the phone slightly away from my ear, unable to believe what she’d just asked me. “I’m sorry, Erika. You gave me these two weeks off for my retreat. I can’t leave.”

  “Look,” she said, her voice tight. “I know you’re trying to start your new business and I totally applaud you for that and all. But we’re having a crisis at work and that takes precedence.” Her tone left no room for argument. “If you don’t come in to handle this shift in the next thirty minutes, you’re fired.” Erika hung up without letting me say another word.

  My hands trembled as I clicked the phone off. I couldn’t lose my job at The Market. Greta was in the middle of a major breakdown, so it’s not like I could count on her to hire me as event planner for future retreats. I had thirty minutes to get to The Market, or my main source of income would be gone. I just hoped that wouldn’t mean the end of my dream.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Still shaking from the phone call, I left Janine in charge of the retreat’s journaling project, and stepped outside to get a quick breath of fresh air to calm myself. Sunshine slanted down through the large leafy palm trees that lined the driveway, creating a serene effect that mocked the turmoil twisting inside my chest.

  The questions from breakfast coupled with the call from The Market reminded me of the real world that existed beyond this lavish retreat. Making Olivia’s Occasions succeed was the only choice to make me happy, but I needed my job at The Market until my business took off. The work in their seafood department was boring and tedious, not to mention smelly, but the paychecks made financial investments, including advertising, for Olivia’s Occasions possible.

  By the time I came to that realization, however, I found myself hurrying up Brody’s driveway, and knocking on the door. I waited until I heard footsteps approaching, and the nerves in my stomach changed to tingles of anticipation. Brody opened the door, and his grin widened to a knee-weakening smile when he saw me.

  “I was just thinking about you,” he said, giving me a kiss, and slipping his arms around me. “Missed me already, huh?”

  “More than you know,” I said, burrowing into the spot between his neck and shoulder. This was exactly what I needed right now. I breathed in his salty ocean scent, telling me he’d likely been surfing this morning.

  “Olivia?” He pressed his lips against my temple, then rested his chin on top of my head. “Is something bothering you?”

  I peered up at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

  “You’re tense. Shaking.” He gently massaged my shoulders. “Plus, you look like someone torched your copy of Men: Who Needs Them?” He grinned at his own joke, but I didn’t have the energy to laugh. “What’s going on, lovely lady?”

  “Actually, I have to go to work.” I watched him raise a brow, and added, “To my part-time job at The Market. They’re having an emergency, and if I don’t go I’m fired. Seems to be the story of my life lately.”

  “Anything I can do for you?” he asked.

  “Maybe we could meet later?” I played with the edge of his short-sleeved shirt, my fingers brushing against his warm, muscled arm. Shiver. “And you and the guys could help Janine with the sand castle building.”

  “Done. Can you get away for dinner?” he asked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “We could be sneaky again, so you wouldn’t get caught rendezvousing with your temptation teaser.”

  I giggled, feeling lighter already. “The retreat has scheduled ‘alone time’ for after dinner. So, I think I could sneak away for a late dinner tonight, if that works. Greta’s still so upset about seeing Scotty, I could probably leave for the rest of the retreat and she wouldn’t notice. Have you had a chance to talk with him yet?”

  He shook his head. “No, we’ve been pretty busy.” He paused for a moment. “I received another call from Heather, our captain’s widow. She left a voicemail wondering if I’d spread his ashes out to sea yet. I need to call her back.”

  I touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “That means a lot.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know after I talk with her. I’m meeting Scotty today for lunch, so hopefully by then I’ll have something to tell you about the mysterious woman on the boat.”

  “Thanks for doing that,” I said.

  “It helps Scotty, as well,” Brody said. “He’s been devastated by that break up for a long time. I don’t think he’s even looked at another woman, let alone been out on a date. Maybe we can help them find closure, one way or another.”

  My brows came together. “That doesn’t sound like someone who plays around.”

  “Like I said, he’s a good guy.” He fingered a long strand of my hair. “When I told your friend in the bar that I only had eyes for redheads, I had no idea how much I meant that.” He pressed his lips to mine in a soft, sweet kiss.

  I kissed him back, then pulled away with a sigh. “I’d better get going. I have about ten more minutes to get into work or, you know.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It was sad how my professions seemed to teeter on the edge. But I wasn’t going to let go of my dream. “You’ll remember to ask Scotty about the woman on the boat?”

  “As delicately as I can,” he promised. “Though, I should warn you that’s like taking the proverbial bull into a china shop.”

  “Well, I seriously doubt anything will make the situation worse,” I said.

  “True,” Brody said. He got a thoughtful look on his face, and then he added, “I’m really glad you asked me out for tonight. Saved me a trip over to ask you myself.”

  I giggled, gave him another kiss, then promised to see him later. I hurried back to where I parked Wendy’s Mercedes in front of the mansion, hopped in the driver’s seat, then sped off down the road. No matter what happened with my career, I wanted things to work out with Brody. When I got home tonight, I’d take the retreat’s advice and do some journaling on the main question of the retreat: how could I be independent and still have a boyfriend?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Market was especially busy when I arrived late morning. I hadn’t brought my uniform to the retreat, and I hadn’t had time to run home to get it, so I improvised with black pants and a white top. The on-duty manager frowned when she saw I wasn’t compliant, but ushered me to the seafood section.

  During a lull in customers, I sniffed my hair and shuddered. The scent had already set in the strands and I still had hours before I got off work. I hated that I’d return to the mansion smelling like fish. Ugh. Even worse, that stench permeated my skin and would sometimes last for days, which meant I’d smell like seafood during my dinner date with Brody. I grabbed a lemon wedge from the display, sliced it in half and squeezed a puddle of juice into my hand. Then I rubbed the lemon juice into my palms and sniffed. The lemon worked a miracle on my hands.

  Just as I was ruminating on the possibility of dousing
myself in lemon juice before taking a shower, I caught a glimpse of Wendy weaving her way through the shoppers. I’d never been so happy to see a friendly face in my life. “Wendy!” I waved her over.

  “I got your text.” Wendy strolled toward my counter. She ran her hands through her dark bob, which fell perfectly back against her shoulders. “Why aren’t you at the retreat?”

  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” I used a hushed voice since the on-duty manager seemed to be lurking nearby in the cereal aisle. “My boss called and ordered me into work. No excuses. Apparently, some people from the day shift got food poisoning, and I was the only one available.” I smiled at a patron who walked by with her cart, then turned back to Wendy, gripping the top of the glass counter. “I’m walking a professional tightrope, afraid the slightest move in the wrong direction will get me fired. And my mentor is having a breakdown.”

  “Greta?” Wendy asked. She leaned against the counter, pretending to examine the fish so I wouldn’t get in trouble for socializing. “You said she was the most together person you’d ever met in real life, present company excluded I hope.”

  Ignoring her joke, I leaned toward her. “Well, the scoop is that Greta used to date Scotty, of Scotty’s Seafood Restaurant.”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, I love that place! Max and I had one of our first dates there.”

  “I’m happy for you.” My tone was flat. “Sadly, their relationship didn’t go as well as yours. She broke up with Scotty but only did that because she thought he was cheating on her. Then she ran into him again at the retreat, which was kind of my fault, and all she’s been doing since is crying. She’s like a faucet without a shut off valve.” I shook my head. Stuck behind the counter, I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t still bawling. Poor Greta.

  “Yikes.” Wendy grimaced. “But she’s a grown woman. What can you do?”

  “We’ve been reading sections of her book to her, but that doesn’t seem to be helping. If I can’t fix Greta, then I can forget about running luxury retreats. With my luck, I’m going to smell like fish forever.” I groaned, dropping my forehead against the counter.

 

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