Carla's Book Crush

For the love of all that was holy—where had she placed those boots?

Dani Sullivan switched her cell to speakerphone mode and placed it on the edge of her bed before dropping to her knees to inspect underneath the full-sized mattress. The hardwood floors bit into her knees. “So, Florida’s good then?”

“More than good.” Her dad’s baritone filtered through her phone, the sound only slightly muffled by the fact her head was now underneath her bed, her eyes scanning around the wrapping paper and boxes of old junk she’d shoved there when she’d moved into the apartment above the now defunct Island Pizzeria five years ago. “Seventy degrees and sunny. Unlike somewhere else I know.”

She popped her head up. “Aw, come on. Our winter has been positively toasty this year, and the spring’s starting off the same. It’s only March seventh, and next week it’s supposed to reach forty-five. Can you believe that? I mean, the ferry’s already running regularly and everything.”

“Not that anyone is ever on it. Unless they’re leaving.”

Dani held back a sigh. This again? “Dad, you know I love talking to you, but why do we have to have this conversation every time you call?”

“We don’t. I—”

“Hang on a sec, okay? I’ve gotta find my shoes so I’m not late to Myrtle’s retirement party.” Ducking back under her bed, she did another quick scan in case she’d missed the boots the first time. Wait, was that them? Lying flat on her shoulder, she stretched her arm toward the lump in the shadows.

It meowed indignantly. A flash of orange bolted past her, squeezing through the crack in Dani’s bedroom door and out into the tiny living room, most likely to wreak havoc on her cat palace with her claws.

“Sorry, Roma,” Dani called after her.

“Who are you talking to?”

Standing, Dani dusted off her hands before grabbing the phone. “The cat.”

Liam turned to find a brown, double-bench golf cart headed their way. “I thought motorized vehicles weren’t allowed here.” That’s what the internet had said, anyway.

“Just golf carts and snowmobiles, and only in the off season. And of course emergency vehicles. Sometimes construction vehicles, but only for a very limited time and with a permit.”

Liam breathed a sigh of relief over that one. At least the hotel renovation wouldn’t have to revert back to the Dark Ages when they’d had to use pulleys and ramps.

“Otherwise, it’s bikes and buggies for us,” Pete continued. “Though we’ve only got a handful of horses on the island anymore, and they’re up on the Quinn property, so walking and biking are the only real options. Get used to using those things called legs.”

Liam laughed. “Thanks, Pete. I will.” He extended his hand.

Pete took his offering and shook. “Buckle up, Fancy Pants. Looks like Dani’s grabbing you today.” Then, whistling, he walked away toward another cart sitting near the building.

Danny? Maybe Seb had sent the director of tourism in his stead. The guy who, apparently, would be giving Liam a more in-depth tour of the island and hotel, and with whom Liam would be working to get the plans approved by the town council.

Turning, Liam lifted a hand in greeting as the golf cart, which was decked out with winter tires of all things, pulled to a halt beside him. A woman—not a man—climbed from behind the wheel.

A beautiful woman, tall and willowy, despite her white coat, jeans, and brown duck boots. Her long blonde hair hung nearly to her waist, and her big green eyes—framed over high cheekbones, a pert nose, and pretty lips turned downward—studied him. “Are you Mr. Stone?”

“Liam, please. Mr. Stone is my dad.” Liam stepped forward and shook her hand, which was much warmer than his, thanks to her lightweight yellow gloves. “And you are?”

“Dani Sullivan.”

“The director of tourism?”

“Were you expecting someone else? A man, perhaps?”

“What?” Liam coughed, caught off guard. “Not at all.” Then he flashed her a smile. “With all the great things Seb told my dad about you, I thought you must be older.”

She looked him up and down. “I could say the same about you. This is a pretty big project. I guess I expected your father to come.”

“He’s needed back at the office. But don’t worry, Ms. Sullivan. He sent the best.” Then he winked at her.

She frowned, clearly not impressed. “I hope that’s the case. There’s a lot riding on this.”