Page 6 of Something Real with the Sea Monster (Kraken Cove #3)

SIX

Jack

I’m glad Tegan can string two sentences together without getting flustered.

After the view I accidentally walked into outside, that’s more than I can manage for the next twenty minutes while I try to take her through the details of the job.

I meant to look away. I thought about it at least, but the sight of her bending over in just the tiny pair of red underwear she has on under her jeans was…

It was…

Oh wow.

That’s a major boundary cross, even if it’s only inside my head. I’m about to be her boss for fuck’s sake. But the lines are all blurry. She’s a friend of a friend, and I just saw her panties, and I’m really having trouble thinking straight.

I show her around the Inlet Views, taking her through room three, which is currently empty, then giving her a tour of the grounds and the pool and barbeque area. She’s full of questions, but they’re all about the hotel. I mean, of course, they are.

“Do you offer breakfast? What time is check out? Is there any kind of loyalty discount? What’s your social media like?”

I blink at her. “Uh, you mean like Facebook?”

“Well yeah, and Instagram and TikTok and Pinterest? You have those too, right?”

“I’m managing a hotel, not a celebrity. How much social media do most hotels have?”

Tegan smiles. Whipping her phone out of her pocket, she types something in, then scrolls for a moment.

Finally she turns her screen to me. On it is an attractive picture of a small bed-and-breakfast in Mollymook, about one hundred kilometers north of Kraken Cove.

The background of the picture is a sunset, lit up with pretty pinks and yellows.

The lights are on in the windows of the building, making it seem cozy and inviting.

There’s a fancy logo in the corner and a slogan in swishy writing that reads ‘Welcome Back’.

She scrolls down, and I see dozens of pretty pictures in a little grid, each one more beautiful than the last.

“This is their Instagram.” She clicks something and another app opens with the same pictures laid out differently. “Pinterest.” She scrolls some more. “They have more than a hundred thousand monthly views,” she says.

My brows lift. “OK, wow. Let me see that.”

Tegan hands over the phone, and I look more closely. The page is slick. The photos look professional, and there are tons of great comments. I let out a low whistle. There are pictures of actual celebrities visiting this place.

“You run ads, right?”

“Sure.” I’m still scrolling through their content. We could easily take photos like this with a little effort. There are views here that rival the ones in the images I’m scrolling past; I know it.

“Where?”

I shrug. “Facebook. The travel websites, that sort of thing.”

“It’s so pretty here. You could totally take advantage of that and share stuff that would get attention from the Insta crowd.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Looks like you could teach me a thing or two. Is what you said even in English?”

Tegan grins. “I run all the social media for my current—” Her face falls. “I mean my old job.” She flips her long blonde hair back over one shoulder, and there’s a pause. “Anyway, it’s my specialty, but really, I can help out with whatever. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No,” I say quickly. “This is great. You might be just what this place needs. And if you can help out on reception and do that side of things, that would leave me space to do the bookkeeping and manage repairs and maintenance. That’s basically how my parents ran the place.

” I break off sheepishly when I have a sudden vision of this beautiful woman stepping into Mom’s shoes while I step into Dad’s.

That’s altogether too domestic and too fucking enticing.

“Anyway, it'll be good to have you on board. If you’re still interested.”

“Of course.” Tegan holds out her hand for me to shake. “Done deal. How about I start on Monday? If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go grab something to eat. I didn’t eat breakfast yet, and I’m suddenly starving.”

I glance at my watch. There’s still an hour before most of the guests will start checking out. “Come down to The Snapper with me and have something. You can show me how Instagram works. No time to learn like the present.”

When she smiles, there are little flecks of gold in her amber eyes. “Done and done. I hope they make a good eggs benny. I could murder some eggs.”

“I can’t believe you don’t have Instagram,” Tegan says around a mouthful of eggs. Then she stops and lets out a low moan which shoots straight to my groin, a fact I’m trying to ignore.

She unlocks her phone while I’m still collecting my thoughts and slides it toward me. “Go on. Open it.”

I press the icon and almost jump out of my seat when a picture of Tegan in strappy black underwear pops up on the screen. “Oh god. Sorry.” I avert my eyes—even though I really don’t want to—and push the phone back across the table.

She looks up from her eggs. “Sorry for what?”

I glance at the screen again, but the picture is still there, and now I realize she’s wearing a bikini rather than underwear. The effect on me is exactly the same. “I—you…” I clear my throat. “That’s a very good picture.”

She grins. “You like it? I used to have this dream I’d get enough followers to monetize. I got kind of addicted to taking the thirst trap pics.”

I blink. “Thirst trap?”

She laughs. “Don’t ask. You’ll learn soon enough once I get you addicted to socials.

Anyway, why don’t you take a look through my feed and just familiarize yourself?

It’s mostly pictures, sometimes video. I haven’t set mine up for the sort of things you’d want to look at, but if you do a search, I bet we could find a few examples. ”

We spend the next ten minutes with our heads bent over her screen while she shows me different features. She’s just finished showing me an immaculately curated profile for a day spa just out of town when a notification drops down over the top of her screen and she hesitates.

aj4C45: ur ass looks like it needs a pounding. Cum sit on my cock

Who the hell does this asshole think he is?

Tegan just sighs. “Hang on.” She opens the message, and I’m expecting her to block the guy straight away. Instead she hits reply: I might if I thought it would be worth my time. I get the feeling I might not even notice there was anything there

I choke back a laugh. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“Why? Don’t tell me you think I was too mean.”

“No. I like it. But I get the feeling you’ve had to deal with crap like that before.”

She just shrugs. “Comes with the territory. To be honest, I’d probably get stupid comments no matter what sort of pictures I posted. The internet is full of idiots.”

That doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s not my place to say anything, so I keep quiet.

By the time my phone rings with the first check out, I’m feeling a hell of a lot more motivated to open a social media account, but to my shame that has far more to do with wanting another look at Tegan’s picture and a lot less to do with seeing how I could use it to grow the business.