Chapter 9
Hart
‘Thought I’d find you here.’ Kevin sidles up to me, like he expects I’ll push him off the cliff.
We’re at the highest point of Gem Island and until now I’ve avoided coming here. If the cave was my go-to place, this was Pa’s. I remember him bringing me here when I first arrived on the island as a starstruck sixteen-year-old who’d never been off the mainland.
He told me the truth—how he made a mistake cutting off contact from my mum when she fell in with the wrong crowd at nineteen, how he stubbornly resisted her call for help two years later, how he didn’t know I existed until he received a letter from her the day she died, stating she’d had a kid and that she’d abandoned him.
Pa was always a straight shooter and as I lowered my carefully erected barriers and let myself depend on someone for the first time in my life, I learned that maybe there was something to this family caper after all.
I resent him for not telling me he had heart problems but I understand why he did it. In his own twisted way, he was probably punishing himself for not being there for my mum when she died and he wanted to die alone too.
‘I haven’t been up here since we tossed his ashes,’ I say.
Kevin clears his throat. ‘Me either. But this was the spot he did his best thinking and I assumed you’d be doing the same.’
His presumption annoys me. ‘I’m not my grandfather.’
‘I know you’re not, kid, but I sure as hell see a lot of similarities.’
Utter bullshit, because Pa and I are nothing alike. He was noble and driven and a stickler for tradition. I can’t wait to shrug off the weight of responsibility and leave this all behind.
‘Have you come here to lecture me over the fuck-up with the Darwin hotel? Because having the entire kitchen staff go on strike because Pa was too stubborn to listen to their wage demands was not my fault.’
‘No.’ Kevin sighs. ‘I came here to tell you to stop beating yourself up. You haven’t done this job for years, and even back then you were barely a kid out of university stuck behind a desk you didn’t want.’
‘Not much has changed, except I’m older.’
‘Nobody’s expecting you to fill Ralfe’s shoes, but it would be nice if you could try them on for size for however long you’re here.’
With that, Kevin walks away. I should call him back, make light of his analogy, but his name sticks in my throat. I’ve told him my plans to improve the profile of the hotels and restore consumer faith, it has to be enough.
I guess Pa and I are alike in that respect: Pa was a private person who hated change and preferred to keep out of the limelight. He resisted modernisation and relied on the family name to keep profits soaring.
It didn’t work and part of my plan is to move the Rochester brand into the twenty-first century. To try new ideas, to use PR in a way that the hotels’ profiles will be what everyone talks about: the go-to place for tourists, families, and businessmen alike.
It’s a solid plan that Daisy is onboard with. But once I’ve achieved my goal, I’m out of here. Kevin understands. He’s a good guy. But how can I expect him to have faith in me when I’m filled with a self-loathing I can’t shake no matter how hard I try?
It has been five days since I fucked Daisy in that cave. Five long, excruciating days where I’ve thrown myself into work and jacked off in the shower at night before falling into bed, sleep eluding me.
She’s all I can think about and the screw-up with me not following up with the Darwin hotel’s staffing wages is a direct result. It has me re-evaluating the wisdom in keeping my distance.
Not that it seems to affect her. She’s proficient and professional, polite during our regular meetings, while all I can think about is how her lips feel and how she tastes and that sexy groan when she comes.
It’s killing me.
We need to talk. I’ve had short-term flings before, when I’ve been in Chicago or Chennai or Cairo, with co-workers who’ve known the score. Each of those times we worked hard during the day and fucked at night, knowing it would end in a few weeks. Easy, no-fuss arrangements with a clear end date.
I want that with Daisy.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, a reminder that we have another meeting scheduled to start in fifteen minutes.
I have two options: continue as I have been, an introverted recluse working behind closed doors while I focus on fixing Pa’s mistakes and refusing help, or ask if Daisy’s up for a fling.
I know which option I prefer and I hope she does too.