The Summer I Saved You (The Summer #2)(6)
A disembodied voice—one of the board members, I assume—says, “What a fabulous idea.”
Caleb clearly does not agree. “I don’t understand why anyone would choose to participate in this,” he says, his eyes dark.
I forward to the next slide. If he hated the idea before, he’s about to hate it even more. “Prizes. The winning team would get a party and an extra day off, but there’d also be tiered incentives like a grand prize to the person with the most miles. A trip for two, with TSG paying the hotel and airfare.”
“Jesus,” he groans. “Do you have any idea how much that would cost?”
I’m sure if I got more sleep, I’d handle his criticism better. But I didn’t get more sleep and he’s kind of being a dick. My aunt was a brutal critic of any plan presented to her and even she wasn’t this bad. “Well, according to your corporate travel policy,” I reply tartly, “the company is keeping the miles accrued when people travel for work, so you could use those to cover both travel and hotel.”
Caleb rattles a pen against the table. “What are these other tiers?”
I flip to the next screen, fighting the mounting sense that I’ve failed miserably. “Restaurant gift cards—that kind of thing. Overall, there’s very little cost to the company for these prizes compared to the amount of goodwill they’ll generate.”
Caleb pushes away from the table. “Listen, the whole purpose of this is to retain employees, not generate goodwill—you really think you can keep everyone at their job because they have a quarter of a percent chance at winning a prize?”
I’m too irritated for diplomacy. “Everyone? No. I figure at least five people in the building have already accepted positions elsewhere and just haven’t given notice. But if you’re asking me to prove it works, all I really need to show is that fewer people have left, don’t I?”
There’s quiet laughter from the video participants, but all my attention is focused on Caleb, staring at me balefully from beneath those dark brows. Such a lovely face, wasted on such an irritating man.
His gaze shifts from me to the smart board. “There’s no way you came up with this so fast on your own.”
“BP oil did something similar.” Really, really similar. I offer him a saccharine smile. “I can be more creative, but not when I’ve only had twenty-four-hours’ notice.”
“Wonderful work, Lucie,” says a video attendee somewhere. “You’re exactly what we needed.”
“Yes, Miss Monroe,” Caleb growls. “Thanks for being so helpful.”
I stare at him. This is the man about whom I crafted elaborate fantasies for a decade of my life, fantasies in which I somehow proved my worth. I wanted to save him—like Belle saved the Beast, like Mulan saved Shang—because how else does a girl no one wants win over the boy beloved by everyone?
I should have focused more on how I’d save myself.
4
CALEB
The look Mark gives me as he walks into my office is asking the same question it often does: Why?
Why did you cancel the holiday party?
Why can’t employees keep their airline miles?
Why did you close the seventh floor?
He sinks into the chair across from my desk. “Why were you so rude to her this morning?”
Because I thought she understood the assignment, and she clearly didn’t.
I slam my laptop shut with a sigh. “I asked a handful of entirely reasonable questions about a program that will cost way more than she’s indicating it will. The better question is why you hired her in the first place. She didn’t even know how to work a fucking smart board.”
“I liked her enthusiasm.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I bet a lot of men like her ‘enthusiasm.’ Hunter was so smitten by her enthusiasm he could hardly function today.” Fucking MBA from Harvard and she reduced him to a lovesick teenager in a matter of seconds. If he’d seen her Saturday night—miles of bare skin, nipples pebbled tight under a soaking wet tank top—he’d have written her a blank check.
Mark runs his tongue over his teeth, struggling to remain patient. “Caleb, she did an amazing job, and you were borderline rude the entire time.”
“I don’t especially enjoy getting to know people who will soon be former employees, especially when they live next door to me. And we both know she isn’t going to last. I told you I was only keeping this person on for three months and you led her to believe it was permanent. That’s on you.”
“I hired her for a permanent position because this should be a permanent position and I assumed you’d come to your senses.” He climbs to his feet. “Based on what she just did today, you already should have.”
I can’t even argue. She knocked it out of the park, but that changes nothing. She still can’t stay.
I head to my friend’s bar a short time later. I’d prefer to skip the weekly get-together, but I’ve been out of town for weeks and it’s easier to get it over with than having my friends harass me by phone for the rest of the week.
Once I’m there and have a beer in front of me, I’m glad I came…until Harrison tells us his dad is putting their beach house on the market.
That house was a staple of our childhood, the place where we surfed from dawn to nightfall, fooling ourselves into believing we were the next Kelly Slater, the next Andy Irons. I thought we’d teach our kids to surf there, our grandkids too, but I think we’ve all avoided it since our friend Danny died during a trip in college.