Page 70 of Sunset Serenade
What!
What if he decides to sail away with her? The guy is a loose cannon.
I know! I told her not to go. I couldn’t stop her.
It didn’t make any sense. Rose couldn’t go through life being beautiful, smart and funny, good at programming and reading people, just to get on board Brett’s ship like a sacrificial lamb.
Unless…
No. She didn’t love him. Shecouldn’tlove him.
His phone dinged, and he picked it up, hoping Lillian would say Rose had gotten away and was heading home.
Instead, there was text from Brett.
You need to tell your employee to get riding or she’s fired!
Attached was a picture of a mechanical bull on the deck of a ship.
That settled it. Rose might love him or she might’ve lost her mind. She might’ve been trying to trick Brett and overplayed her hand.
Whatever it was, he couldn’t let it happen. He grabbed his wallet and keys and sprinted out the door.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The old Rose would’ve done it. The old Rose wouldn’t have known how to get out of the ridiculous request to ride a mechanical bull on a yacht, and she would’ve relented. Given in. Buckled up.
Brett kept pushing. “How can I know if you’re the right woman for the job if you ain’t got no sense of balance?”
He let out a hee-haw sort of laugh and Rose stared at him. She was perfectly comfortable on the overly cushioned couch. There was a table between them, lit with flames from a propane fire. At least he couldn’t touch her.
The old Rose would already be struggling to climb onto the mechanical bull, but the new Rose ignored him, instead looking around at the ship.
From afar, it looked beautiful, all elegance and promises of smooth sailing. Once she’d stepped onto the deck, however, Rose realized the bull wasn’t even the worst of it. There was a deer antler chandelier hanging perilously above their heads, there were fake (she hoped they were fake) cacti everywhere she looked, and the couch she was sitting on had two-foot fringe blowing in the wind.
Money could not buy class, and it couldn’t buy her getting on that fake-bull contraption. “My skills as a matchmaker have nothing to do with riding a bull. In fact, there is zero overlap.”
Rose picked up the glass of champagne he’d insisted she take and held it in her hand. She wasn’t going to drink it – he’d said it was whiskey-flavored champagne – but it made her statement seem final.
“All right, all right.” He chuckled. “I must say, I do admire your dedication to the craft of matchmaking.”
“Thank you.” Rose hesitated. This was her chance, if only she knew how to take it. “The sooner you buy SerenadeMe, the sooner my skills will be at your disposal.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you came on this date because you liked me.”
“This is not a date. This is a discussion.”
Of course, he thought it was a date. Lillian thought the same thing. Rose had never said it was a date – not tohim –though she could see how agreeing to spend her evening on his boat, the lights twinkling on the water behind them, might suggest romantic intentions.
He leaned forward, the flames dancing and reflecting in his eyes. “Maybe I’d like you for myself?”
“I’m not for sale,” Rose said simply. “The company is.”
“Fine, fine. What if I just poach you for myself, then? You could be the matchmaker at my company. Forget that old place.” He waved a hand. “Nobody can afford to buy them anyway.”
“I’m not planning to abandon my–” She stopped. “What do you mean nobody can afford to buy them?”
He rubbed his hands together and shrugged. “Ever since you came along, the place is untouchable. You know that. That’s how these things go. Prices go up, valuation goes up – it’s too much.”
