Love Me Love Me Knot Read online

  “No.”

  “You sure? We can reschedule our meeting. You sleep it off, and when you’re feeling better, we’ll regroup.”

  Red went silent, nodding a bit, then his bloodshot eyes shot to Ryan’s. “What are you doing, boy?”

  Ryan cocked his head. That question came out of the blue, no slur detected. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean”—Red picked up a plaque that read, Red Goldman, Over the Top 2000 Editor in Chief of the year—“make sure your choices and sacrifices are worth the part of your soul that you can never get back.”

  Ryan felt his brows furrow. It was barely 6:00 a.m. and Red, or the Scotch, was overly philosophical for the hour. “I’m sure you have a lot more of your soul to offer, Red.”

  “Pffft.” Red spit a little and wiped his chin. “Son, I know why you’re here. You don’t have to play politics with me. I sent the last editor packing myself. Back when periodicals were respectable and the subjects on the cover earned their place.”

  Though he was sure Red wasn’t privy to the merge—if it was a merge—he assumed based on the garbled speech that the editor assumed the worst. He couldn’t blame him, though. Why else would an A-list journalist be summoned to a smaller branch after reports showed declining subscriptions? That was information he’d found by digging, something Phil had forgotten to mention.

  “I’m just saying this job can be a soul-crusher,” Red continued. “You married, boy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You got a girl?”

  Why did Sophie flash through his mind? He shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing serious.”

  “Well, one day you’ll fall in love. You’ll promise her the world, but then you’ll get a call to come back to the office right after you get home from a long day at work. Then another call ruins your anniversary dinner and sends you on an urgent trip across the country. And another call that your wife’s cheating on you . . . not that you’ll care, because, hell, your marriage was over years ago. The calls won’t stop. You’ll see your kids grow though pictures, or, for your generation, your cell phone screen. They didn’t have those when my kids were learning to walk, and talk, and graduating high school.”

  Ryan dropped his eyes as Red’s words seared him like a hot knife through butter. Red might be drunk, but even in a stupor, especially in a stupor, a man feels his past regrets. But Ryan couldn’t linger on his regrets or this whole thing would be a disaster. “Red, I’m here to discuss training details since you won’t be attending the trip. But you’re in no state to have a meeting. Let’s reconvene later.”

  “I know you are, son. I had this same meeting twenty-three years ago with a guy named Chuck Maury. I’m not an idiot.” He laughed, picking up the bottle of scotch. “And contrary to how it looks, I’m not a drunk either. But, I know times have changed and people want their news on a six-inch screen the instant it happens. Hell, they want it before it happens. And mark my words, the industry as a whole will be compromised.” Red shook his head. “Just promise me one thing.”

  Ryan lifted his head to meet Red’s eyes.

  “Don’t put your career over your heart. This job will suck you dry faster than a combative third wife during an asset mediation hearing.” Red chuckled to himself. “Trust that thumping organ. It’ll break but it’ll never lead you astray the way that big ego in your head will.”

  Ryan nodded. What could he say? His heart went out to this man. “Understood.”

  Seconds later, Red’s head bobbed a few times before it rested on his chest. Drool pooled at the corners of his mouth. The deep grunt signified Red was down for the count.

  That was intense. “I’m calling you a cab.”

  Chapter 7

  Two hours after Sophie boarded Colossal Cruise’s Epic Dream, a series of ear-piercing tones signaled the start of the mandatory safety briefing, sending her group of passengers to the top of the Lido Deck with their life preservers in hand.

  “Saved you a seat, toots,” Donovan said, patting the empty spot on the whitewashed bench next to him. His life jacket seemed to fit flawlessly, whereas Sophie thought she’d might accidentally strangle herself with the loose strap on hers.

  Sophie sat and Donovan handed her a cup of ice water. “Thank you. Where’s Amy?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Beats me. Figured she was with you.”

  “No, I’ve been cooped up in my room trying to reach Charlie before I lose reception.”

  Donovan slowly turned his head and gave Sophie the ‘look.’ “Why?”

  “Because I’m certain the roof will cave in or the place will burn down or the cartel will show up and kidnap everyone.”

  Donovan raised his hand. “Please stop. You’re interrupting my chi.”

  “Your what?”

  “Just relax. We only have a couple of hours before our first meeting. I don’t want your stressing out about nothing to ruin my treatment.”

  Sophie cocked her head. “Again, I ask, your what?”

  “Vitamin D treatment while the salty breeze exfoliates my pours. Now hush.”

  Donovan closed his eyes and leaned back. Sophie would have rolled her eyes, but Donovan had grown immune to her judgment. She scanned the deck for Amy. Yet, between the other sardines—some of whom needed to watch where they placed their wandering hands—all she saw was a sea of orange life preservers.

  Before the drill started, a crewmember with a nametag that read Roberto from the Dominican Republic thrust a bright pink flyer in her hand and then passed one to Donovan with a wink. Donovan smiled back and scanned the flier. “Ha, not a chance,” he said, resuming his treatment.

  Sophie read the flier.

  Captain Tristan and Colossal Cruise Lines invite you to participate in its fifth annual charity event:

  If By Land or Sea Scavenger Hunt!

  You find the goods. We write the check!

  $5,000 for first place.

  Sophie blinked. Was this for real? Nothing in life is handed over so easily—especially five thousand dollars. But then again, just because she wasn’t naïve enough to fall for easy money didn’t mean someone else wasn’t crazy enough to give it away. Five grand would more than cover rent, and when she added in Amy’s blackmail money from Dirk over at channel eight, she’d have enough for some repairs.

  She’d just have to find a way around the rules. Per the company bylaws outlined in their itineraries, employees at Over the Top, Inc. were prohibited from cruise-sponsored activities. This was a training cruise, so other than free time during port-of-calls, this trip revolved around meetings and training.

  However, Red wasn’t here. Neither was the human resource guy. And last time she checked, Ryan didn’t sign her paycheck, so she didn’t need his permission.

  Participating in a forbidden scavenger hunt would definitely require a bit of insanity to pull off. But hey, she was the woman who had four hundred thousand YouTube hits from a completely accidental take down.

  The answer to her problems stared back at her, serenading her name like a heavenly host of angels. She traced her finger over the ginormous red lettering promising five thousand dollars to the grand prizewinner as if doing so would transport the winnings straight to the café’s near-empty business account.

  Donovan turned toward her, making a judgy face. “I know what you’re thinking. And don’t.”

  “Go back to sunbathing. I’m plotting over here.”

  He lowered his Elton John replica sunglasses and glared. “For what it’s worth, there are ways to come up with money that won’t get you terminated. And I like working with my favorite toots. I would wither and die if you were fired for something as stupid as a scavenger hunt.”

  “Not when Mr. Tomilson’s rent increase is effective immediately. That bacterial-petri dish of a man sent the letter directly to
the café rather than to corporate because that’s pretty much what a sleazy, gutless, cockroach does to get around corporate’s red tape.”

  Donovan put his arm around Sophie. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me too. Think about it. If they fire you, who’d run the café? I’m only good for pedis and cooking. You need to think about the girls.”

  “That’s exactly who I’m thinking about.”

  He lifted a perfectly groomed brow. “Oh really?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sure it’s not to prove a certain asshat wrong?”

  With the background sound of the captain starting the muster drill instructions, Sophie traced Donovan’s gaze to Asher who made a beeline in their direction. He stopped in front of a woman in a skirt Sophie was pretty sure had been sized for a toddler. When he planted his arm on the wall above her head, Sophie bristled. Asshat, indeed.

  “You are the wind beneath my wings!” Amy chorused off key.

  “There you are,” Sophie said, scooting over just enough to allow her friend to sit—and land—halfway on her lap. “A little early for the schnapps, wouldn’t you say?”

  Amy whipped her head around, giving Sophie a mouthful of hair. “Actually, it’s never too early for schaps . . . shooaaps . . . schnapps. Have you ever said that word?” Amy crossed her eyes, watching her lips pucker in pronunciation, then dissolved into giggles.

  Sophie spit out the crunchy, wayward strands of mousse-lathered locks blowing into her face. “Your hair is in my bubble, Amy.”

  “Hey, you got one of these too?” Amy plucked the same pink flier from her back pocket and scrunched her face. “Who wants to scavenge for dumb trinkets? Now send me on a hunt for some sexy, six-pack abs or the firefighters from one of those charity calendars and I’m in.”

  Sophie snatched the flier from Amy’s hand and waved off her erroneous comment. Except for the firefighters part. Yes, Sophie would definitely be in on that hunt. “As if five thousand dollars is anything to snuff at. We’re talking divine intervention to have this be the one week out of fifty-two that they’re running this contest.”

  Amy glared at Sophie . . . sort of. Her eyes darted a few times before they locked onto hers. “There are two of you,” Amy slurred.

  “I’m sure there are. How many have you had?”

  Donovan leaned into the conversation. “One too many, it sounds like.”

  Amy tipped her head back, the bottle pressed to her lips. “Mmm,” she mumbled into the bottle. “So good.”

  “Anyway.” Sophie read the flier again. “It’s easy money. I could win this contest without even trying.”

  “They’re all rigged you know,” Donovan said.

  Sophie frowned. “They are not. Stop being a naysayer unless you want to write me a check right now.”

  Donovan barked out a loud laugh. “I wish I had that sort of scratch.”

  Amy pointed her finger in the air as if a light bulb lit above her head. “You could always fake an injury and sue the company for damages. Pick a good company though. One with more money than Up Front.”

  “So, pretty much any company,” Donovan quipped.

  “You two suck,” Sophie said. “I didn’t say I was participating.”

  “Good, because it’s a terrible idea,” Amy said on a drunk sigh. “Unless it’s for hot firefighters, that is.”

  Which is exactly the reason Sophie would sign up after this drill was over. Anything Amy thought was a bad idea meant it was a good one. They were polar opposites—the exact reason they got along so well. Yin and Yang would be pointless if they were Yin and Yin.

  “Speaking of terrible ideas,” Donovan growled. “Don’t look at your ten o’clock.”

  Sophie’s eyes banked left.

  “Why do I bother warning you?” he murmured.

  Sophie curled her upper lip and made a guttural sound. Asher had apparently finished bothering the woman in toddlers’ clothing and squeezed his way through the crowd. Luckily she had her friends flanking her.

  “Look what the kraken dragged in,” Sophie sneered. “What’s wrong? She too old for you? Or perhaps too smart?”

  Asher feigned a laugh. “I’m just being friendly. No need to be rude.” He raised his drink to his mouth, which was an exact replica of Amy’s. Peach schnapps. Are you kidding me?

  Amy doubled over in drunken hysterics and thudded to the floor. She groaned. “Everything is spinning down here.”

  Sophie patted her friend on her tower of hair. “It’s fine, honey. Just stay down there until the spinning stops.”

  “I just wanted to come by and tell you sorry about another blow to your crusade.”

  “Another blow to my . . . ” The puzzle pieced together in her head. She looked down at her schnapped friend. Beasties socializing while drunk with the poster boy for Cheaters-R-Us did not make a good combo for secrets. Oh, Amy, you told Ash-face? “It’s not a crusade. Stop calling it that.”

  “Call it what you want,” Asher continued. “Crusade. Slow death. Drain on society. I’m not trying to be cruel, I’m just calling it as I see it because you’re in too deep to see what’s going on.” He took another swing.

  “And I suppose you see everything.”

  Asher lifted his shoulders. “When it comes to spending much needed company resources on a glorified hobby. Yeah, I like to think of it as my unofficial job.” His smirk made Sophie want to dry heave.

  “I’ll tell you what your unofficial job is. You’re the king off ass—”

  Donovan squeezed Sophie’s shoulder, essentially cutting her off. Sometimes she wanted to squeeze the levelheadedness out of Donovan. “What do you want, Asher?”

  “Nothing. Just making conversation while we apparently don’t pay attention to the crewmember over there giving us directions in case of an emergency. Though maybe we should. It’s for our safety and all.”

  Sophie looked past Asher. Though she couldn’t really understand his accent, the safety instructor demonstrated the proper way to wear a life jacket, and what do in the event of pirates—no, fire. Yes, he definitely said fire.

  Sophie gave up trying to untangle the knot her straps had created and turned back to Asher. “I don’t know what Amy told you about the café, or what you did to her, but it’s none of your concern.”

  His eyes dropped to Amy, who leaned against Sophie’s legs. “She sings like a canary, lightweight that she is.” He stepped around the Amy blob. “If our outreach is going under I think it concerns the whole office. That money can be used to market new subscribers. We need increased readership, or haven’t you noticed the decline with all the time you spend in your exalted cave?”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes. “It will never be our outreach. It’s not like you’ve ever helped.”

  “As expected, you missed the point entirely.”

  “That’s because I can’t hear anything past that big-headed ego of yours.”

  Asher simpered. “Well, don’t say you weren’t warned by a friend who cares.”

  Donovan stood up, apparently having had enough of Asher too.

  Asher stepped back.

  Sophie reached for Donovan. “It’s fine.”

  Amy groaned. “I’m not feeling so well.”

  “Of course not,” Sophie said, patting Amy’s head again. “You frolicked with the enemy. That’s enough to make anyone want to retch.”

  “Seriously, I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Donovan stepped between Sophie and Asher and drew Amy to her feet. “Let’s go, lightweight.” Donovan draped one of Amy’s arms around his neck. “I’ll find you later, okay, toots? You going to be all right here?”

  Sophie glared. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Donovan
helped Amy through the orange mob. “No more schnapps for you.”

  Sophie watched them leave and then addressed Asher. “Listen, Ash-face. I get the only thing you care about is Asher. But back off, okay? The café’s not closing. And not that it’s any of your business, but”—she gripped the flier clenched in her fist—“I have resources at my disposal.”

  Asher leaned in. Nodes of his familiar Old Spice rendered her nauseous. He flicked her flier and whispered, “If you’re referring to the scavenger hunt, be forewarned, I’m in the hunt.”

  A lightning bolt shot through Sophie, momentarily snuffing out her last bit of hope. “You’re . . . in?” With Asher in the game, her odds of winning were slim to none. He was the competitive king. From Parcheesi to last month’s half marathon, if competition was involved, the slaughter he left in his wake was worse than 300.

  He flexed his biceps. “Yes, I am.”

  Sophie’s dry lips cracked. She sipped from the cup of water Donovan had given her, hoping to loosen the knot in her throat.

  “Don’t blame your friend for ratting you out. She was worried about you. About Chicks ’n’ Slicks, actually.”

  “Good afternoon.” The smoothness in Ryan’s voice sent a shiver down Sophie’s spine and she all but choked on her water. Rather, she snorted it, causing it to dribble out her nose and down her chin. Perfect.

  Ryan shook Asher’s hand. “How’s it going?”

  Asher cracked his neck. “Can’t complain.”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes and murmured, “I can.”

  Asher smirked.

  Ryan’s eyes trailed from Asher to Sophie. “Did I miss something?”

  “Trust me, you haven’t missed anything.” Sophie maintained her solemnity.

  “Now, Sophie,” Asher started, cracking his smug smile, “tell Ryan all about our fabulous little café and how it’s in dire straits. He should know since he’s heading the training. This could be used as a great opportunity to discuss deferred resources.”