Page 4 of Save Me (The Wolf Hotel Mermaid Beach #2)

I smile. Lena may be as uptight as a bridezilla working on a seating chart, but I could bend her my way if I wanted to.

Thankfully for both of us, I don’t. She’s attractive, but there’s nothing appealing about wrecking a marriage.

As soon as that ring is on a woman’s finger, a giant “do not enter” sign appears.

I won’t let myself so much as imagine what they look like naked.

Except for Abbi, of course, but that’s different.

Belinda returns then, saving us from our awkward conversation. “Okay, I think we’ve covered off everything we need to for today, unless there are any other pressing matters?”

“Besides my housekeeping supervisor stumbling upon two staff members having intercourse on a freshly made bed?” Lena frowns at her screen. “Connie is asking how we would like to proceed.”

“What do you think, Ronan?” The corners of Belinda’s painted lips crook upward with a secretive smirk. “ Should staff caught in compromising positions be terminated?”

If so, then I sure as hell wouldn’t be here, and neither would Belinda.

I haul my sweaty body out of the seat, dying for air-conditioning. “I say let them fuck and get it out of their system, but ask Mike. He’s the HR manager, and I’ve already fired someone today.” I feel bad for that girl who fell for Sloane’s ex and lost a promising career.

If I ever see Cody again …

My fist clenches with the thought.

Belinda’s gaze rakes over my chest, settling on where my collar sits unbuttoned.

“Minnie sent you both decks on every person invited to the media open. Spend the next thirty-six hours memorizing them, especially those whom you have scheduled time with. I expect you to know the names of every person before they introduce themselves to you.”

I plaster on a wide, fake smile. “You got it.” Fat chance.

“Favorite flower is the daffodil. She has two Shih Tzus named Rocky and Noodles,” I read out loud, scrolling through Shelby Singer’s bio from the comfort of my desk.

“Are you kidding me? This has to be illegal.” There’s a dossier on every journalist, politician, and corporate bigwig coming, and they include far more than their credentials and a professional photograph.

This one in particular is a fifty-three-year-old congress member in a pantsuit with two American flags in the background.

Archie lounges in the chair across from me, squeezing an orange stress ball that matches the color of his hair. “It’s all public stuff. The GMs make us do it for media days. It’s helpful, according to Belinda.”

“It’s helpful that I know Shelby enjoys competitive duck herding in her spare time? What the fuck even is that?”

He grins. “It’s when you guide ducks through obstacles using dogs.”

“Why would someone do that?”

“Sport? I don’t know. I had to look that up.”

“And why do I need to know all this? Am I supposed to pretend that I, too, herd ducks through obstacles on my days off so I can bond with Shelby Singer?” I pat my chest for embellishment.

Archie’s grin widens. “I don’t know, man. I just do what I’m told. Belinda scares me.”

“You and me both.” I flip through the other bookmarked dossiers. “The ones with the stars are all the people I have one-on-one meetings with?” Three travel magazine journalists, two news reporters, two politicians, and three company CEOs.

“Yeah, but Belinda wants you to read through all of them.”

“Not just read. Memorize.” I flip through the starred ones. “All of my meetings are with women,” I note.

“And all of Lena and Belinda’s meetings are with men.”

Doubt that’s a coincidence. “Fucking diabolical.” How exactly does Wolf want me to impress these VIPs?

Because there were rumors aplenty about his relationship with one of these media open travel journalists at the Alaska location.

In fact, that woman played a big part in Henry and Abbi’s breakup.

I guess I have her to thank because Abbi would never have given me the time of day otherwise.

My phone chirps with an incoming text, and I dive for it, holding my breath against hope that I’ll see Sloane’s name.

Tasha:

So … Two nights seems like such a short trip. Any chance you have an extra room at your place in case I wanted to stay until Sunday?

Fuck me, I should have seen this coming. Connor did, back in Miami. Can’t wait for him to grind me about it. I guess it’s fine, though. The house is big, and Tasha is not the woman I’m pining over anymore. Plus, I have a door lock on my bedroom.

Yeah, lots of room. I won’t be around much but Britt and Dani are staying there too.

They can hang out together if they want. I sure as hell don’t have time to entertain anyone. With that taken care of, I flip over to my calendar to see where all these kiss-ass meet-and-greets fit in. “You have me booked for two breakfasts on Friday.”

“Order something light?” Archie counters .

I frown. “And three coffee meetings at the Coral Cafe on Wednesday afternoon.” The hotel’s coffee shop is quaint but small.

“You love coffee.”

“Yeah, but are you trying to kill me with caffeine?”

He tosses his stress ball in the air and catches it. “Drink decaf.”

“Screw that.” I note 7:00 a.m. tee-off times on Wednesday and Thursday. Worse, with Henry on my team. As if I want to spend all morning with him. “What’s Axis Core?” Because we’re golfing with a pair from there the first day. Thursday is a media open tournament that runs all day.

“A global consulting firm. They hold their yearly meetings at Wolf locations.”

Two rich assholes who probably golf seven days a week while conducting business. Can I get out of that? Highly unlikely. “Do you know anything about golf?”

“I can hold my own.” The way he says it means he knows his stuff.

“Okay, good. You’re gonna be my caddy. Memorize whatever’s in these two dossiers. Also, I need you to book me with the golf pro tomorrow morning.” Maybe that’ll give me a fighting chance of not embarrassing myself.

Archie stiffens, his demeanor shifting to business in an instant. “Any time in particular?”

“The earlier, the better.” Less chance of my session getting derailed by problems.

A knock sounds on my office door.

“Come in,” I holler .

Dorian and his mustache appear. “Sprinklers are all sorted. Our guys had to dig up some lines, but?—”

“Perfect,” I cut him off. I really don’t care how they fixed it, just as long as it’s one less problem to end up on my plate. “Anything else to worry about?”

“For you? No. Got the replacement beach equipment in today, finally, for everything that arrived busted. I sent you the labor report for the month, plus the updated projections for next month, as well as the equipment list. Ten percent higher than the budget. I prioritized what I think is necessary.”

I sigh. Can’t wait to be lectured by Henry’s CFO for overspending. “Thanks, Dorian.”

With a wave, he ducks out.

Now is the perfect time to escape, before anyone shows up to drop a new problem in my lap. I quickly collect my laptop and tablet. “I’m going home to digest all of this in peace. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get you in with the pro first thing and update your calendar.”

“Good man.” I rush out before he’s even out of his seat.

It’s all a ruse, of course. Home is not where I’m aiming to go.

My pulse races as I pull up next to the old blue Cherokee wearing a Sea Witch bumper sticker. That has to be Sloane’s, which means she’s here. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like Frank or anyone else is. The row of colorful trailers sits quietly between the line of trees, no vehicle to be seen.

The hens greet me as I step out of my car, flocking to my shoes as if I’ve dropped kernels for them. When they realize I’ve come empty-handed, they strut away, clucking.

“Hey, Ralph,” I call out to the hulkish rooster loitering a few feet away. I haven’t seen a lot of roosters in my day, but I didn’t know they came that big. “Don’t shit on my hood this time, okay?” It took two rounds in the car wash to get off.

He spreads his tail feathers as if in answer.

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna shit on my car again,” I mutter, dismissing him as I make my way past the fenced-off garden.

A set of gloves rests next to a pitchfork and a pile of weeds.

A basket nearby is filled with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and radishes.

It looks like someone gave up harvesting halfway through.

I take a moment to absorb the entire idyllic view.

Even though the hotel is right next door, you’d never know it from this spot.

It’s a kitschy little oasis of brambly trees and colorful buildings, personality in every corner you look.

And Henry wants to pave over this. Tear it down and turn it into a road. It’s wrong on every level.

I climb the quaint little teal-blue beach house’s porch steps, hit with a flash of the last time I was here, armed with my laptop and good intentions. I can’t believe how quickly things between me and Sloane got out of control. I wouldn’t change a thing about that day, though.

Scratch that—I would change one thing: I would have made sure it lasted a hell of a lot longer .

The glass pane rattles under my knock, and then I wait.

And wait.

I knock again, stealing a glance through the window. Movement catches my eye. It’s not inside the house, but through the back doors. A figure in a hot pink string bikini strolls up the beach, a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her wet hair pushed back off her forehead.

My pulse races at the sight of Sloane, even as I chastise myself for not thinking through this impulsive visit.

What am I supposed to say to her, now that there’s this giant secret hanging in the air, these plans that are going to upend her entire life that I know about.

That I can’t tell her about without risking my career and her wrath.

Sloane veers to her left.

I take quick steps down the porch and to the far side of the house, following the stone path around to meet her.