Page 16 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

And there it is. We’re back to the obnoxious behavior. I curse my lonely hormones for lusting after his hair.

“Why is that, exactly?”

“Come on, Ivy.” Oliver’s eyes are intense on my face, and I want to look away, but I decide that would be letting him win. “This job doesn’t pay very well. You’re here on vacation. No one gets a part-time job on their vacation without a reason.”

I have a reason, I want to scream. Sure, the money will be nice. And it’ll give me something to do when Laurel is writing.

But more than anything, I need a distraction. I need to forget about the events of the last year and slip away into a fugue state. Keep myself busy with something that tethers me to my past while I push through the grieving process.

I’m debating between some sort of simple explanation that even an emotionless drone like Oliver might understand or simply telling him to fuck off when I hear the bell on the door jingle.

A genuine smile overtakes his face. “Hi, Maisie,” he says warmly.

I turn around and wave.

“Oliver and Ivy! My two favorite people.” Maisie grins at us.

My insides heat at the notion that I, whom she just met yesterday, might be one of Maisie’s favorite people. But she seems like a sweetheart, so she’s probably just being nice.

“Shall we?” Maisie touches my arm and gestures toward her office.

“Absolutely. Bye, Oliver.” I shoot him a saccharine look and follow my new boss out of the room.

“So, I see Oliver got you a coffee,” Maisie says brightly, bustling about her office and pulling several folders out of a drawer.

I start. Was he not supposed to do that? “I’m sorry if that wasn’t okay,” I say quickly. “I offered to pay, but…”

She laughs then, a bright chuckle that puts me immediately at ease. “No, I’m glad he did. Coffee’s always free for the team.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He could have made it clear that it was Maisie’s gesture, rather than his own. What a tool.

“So, here’s some paperwork.” Maisie slides a pile of forms and a blue pen across the desk to me. “It includes rates, pay schedule, employment contract, the whole nine. Take your time filling it out, and let me know if you have any questions, okay?”

“Thanks.” I start with the I-9.

“I hope you don’t mind that I won’t be the one training you,” Maisie says, watching me write. “I’m so overextended these days. I used to do all the management myself, but…” She shakes her head. “It’s just too much for me now.”

“I understand,” I reply with what I hope sounds like copious empathy. “Did you start the bookstore yourself?”

She nods. “I did, back when I was young and convinced I was invincible.” A slight chuckle, and then: “Funny how those feelings evaporate over time.”

I smile. “You seem pretty invincible to me.”

“You have to say that, dear.” She’s definitely teasing, but I blush anyway.

“I always dreamed of opening a bookstore,” I rush before I can think better of it.

Maisie raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

The heat creeping up my cheeks intensifies. God, now it makes it sound like I’m clamoring for her job. Or worse, her business. But I incline my head. “My grandmother and I shared a love of reading, and she used to bring me here whenever we were in town. I love the bookstore aesthetic.” I try to fight the awkwardness I’m feeling with self-deprecation. “But I don’t think it’s something I’d be able to do.” I look down at my signature looping across the employment documents. “I’m just glad I get a chance to work here. That’s a dream come true on its own.”

When I look up, I see Maisie assessing me with interest. “Why don’t you think you could do it?”

“I just…it seems like a lot of work, is all.”

She smiles like that’s the understatement of the century. “It really is.”

“And like there would be a lot of ebbs and flows. Especially here, with the end of tourist season.”