Beware of the Boss

by Leah Ashton

  ‘You okay?’ Gray asked.

  Lanie smiled. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I am.’

  Gray reached for her, but she made herself step away.

  ‘Lanie?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘This. Us. Whatever it is.’

  She had to push the words past her lips.

  ‘Why not?’

  Her gaze flipped up to the streetlight a few metres away. Its brightness made her blink as she stared at it.

  ‘I think I’ve spent enough time in the past few months focussing on the wrong things. On my failures, my disappointments.’

  ‘You’re no failure, Lanie,’ Gray said, his tone definite. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘I know,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m getting that now.’ And Gray had played a big part in that—more than he’d ever know. ‘I did fall short of my goals, and that hurts. A lot. But I need to move on.’

  He nodded, letting her explain.

  ‘The thing is, Gray, I don’t think I can handle another failure right now. At least I can’t handle one that’s guaranteed. I need to believe in myself again.’ She swallowed. ‘So I can’t do this with you. It’s not going to work. We both know that.’

  ‘But what do you want from this?’ he asked. ‘How can you be so sure it’s going to fail?’

  She laughed, but sadly. ‘Of course it’s going to fail. You can’t even articulate what you want—neither of us can. But I know what you don’t want. You don’t want love, and you don’t want for ever.’

  She gave him a second—a moment to contradict her—but he remained silent.

  She bit her lip, angry that her throat felt tight.

  ‘That’s what you want, Lanie? Love?’

  Stupidly, she hadn’t really considered the word in relation to herself. She’d just known that Gray didn’t want it and had focussed on that.

  But of course it was what she wanted. She turned her gaze back to him, looking him straight in the eye.

  She had an awful feeling that love was something she already felt.

  Could he see that in her gaze? She thought so, because his eyes drifted away.

  ‘I think I get it now,’ she said. ‘That dismissive thing you do. I thought you were rude, or arrogant, but it isn’t that, is it? You want to keep your distance from people. If you don’t engage they can’t get too close. Then there’s no risk of any type of distraction—from Manning, and from your goals.’

  He looked at her now, his gaze hard. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think I do, actually,’ she said. ‘I think for years I’ve been doing the same thing. My life was all about swimming—training, competing, day after day. There was no space left for anything else, and I didn’t want anything else. But,’ she said, with a smile, ‘the good thing is that now I do have space. I have space for new dreams, new goals, new experiences, new relationships—and, I guess, for love.’

  She’d only realised this as she’d been speaking. For the first time in months it was as if a whole new world was opening up before her—full of opportunities far beyond her swimming career.

  Adrenalin pumped through her veins. Excitement.

  Sienna’s medals had been the catalyst, but this had started long before. Maybe that day she’d first stood up to Gray. Or when she’d finally believed in the way his body responded to hers. New emotions. New reactions.

  Gray was shaking his head. ‘You’re wrong, you know. My whole career is about building relationships.’

  ‘Working relationships, Gray. Not real ones.’

  He laughed. ‘Like my dad’s marriages? Right. Or my mum’s relationship with me? Or yours with your father, even? If that’s what real relationships are, I don’t want a part of one.’

  Which was it, exactly.

  Her gaze lifted to that streetlight again. She was discovering that right at this moment she was more like Gray than she’d realised. She couldn’t look at him. Not now.

  ‘Goodbye, Gray. This was fun while it lasted.’

  He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. But then he didn’t.

  Instead he looked at her—really looked at her—in a way that made Lanie wish she could take back everything she’d said. That made her want to throw herself at him and hold him and kiss him, take whatever it was he could offer for as long or as little time as he could.

  There was passion and connection and maybe even something else in Gray’s gaze.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  She needed more now. A lot more.

  And Gray wasn’t capable of giving her what she needed. Or at least he didn’t believe he was—and that was exactly the same thing.

  He’d not contradicted her. He’d not even said he was willing to give it a try.

  He was letting her end this and he was going to walk away.

  That told her everything she needed to know.

  So she let him.

  One month later

  It was a Friday night in an inner city pub, and Gray had met his dad for a drink. It was a celebration of sorts—three months since Gordon’s retirement.

  Gray couldn’t say that everything at Manning, or his relationships with his clients and investors, was one hundred percent back to normal. But it was a heck of a lot closer than a month ago.

  Nearly everyone was relaxing into the change, and Gray could sense a gradual return to the trust in him he’d once taken for granted.

  And he thought he had relaxed into the change too. For a long time he’d had no idea he’d even needed to—nor even acknowledged that Gordon’s retirement was a major change for him. Not just the people he worked with.

  It had been Lanie who’d made him figure that out. Lanie swimming alone in the ocean, working her way through the biggest change in her life with so much dignity—and also moments of weakness.

  Those moments were okay, though. Necessary, even.

  So he too was allowing himself to be less than perfect. To adjust. To—as Lanie had told him—accept that he could do no more than his best.

  It was all he and she could ever do. And that was okay.

  It appeared to be working, too. This week he’d sold one of the Hoi An villas.

  ‘It’s over. With Tasha,’ Gordon said out of the blue.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Gray said, taking a sip of his beer.

  ‘But not surprised?’

  Gray shrugged. ‘No.’

  Normally that was as far as his conversations with his father went in relation to his divorces.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, surprising himself.

  Gordon raised his eyebrows, but answered the question. ‘It wasn’t working,’ he said. ‘It didn’t turn out as either of us had expected.’

  ‘And what did you expect?’

  His father smiled. ‘The perfect marriage, maybe?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Now a laugh. ‘Maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know. Not what I keep on getting, anyway.’

  ‘So why keep on trying?’

  Gordon put down his beer glass as he studied Gray. ‘I don’t know. Each time it seems like a good idea. The best idea, even.’

  ‘It’s a good thing you’re better at learning from your mistakes in other areas of your life,’ Gray pointed out.

  ‘Ah,’ Gordon said. ‘That’s the thing, Gray. I married seven very different women. Given I didn’t marry any of them twice, you could say I did learn.’

  Gray laughed.

  Their conversation shifted to more familiar territory—business, mostly. But Gray found himself studying his father and trying to understand how he was feeling.

  Because surely—given he’d just separated from a wom
an he’d supposedly loved—there should be some evidence of...he didn’t know... Hurt? Anger? Sadness?

  He’d never been able to relate before. When his father had announced his separations—the ones Gray could remember, anyway—he’d paid little attention. As his dad said, Gray had always expected the demise of each relationship. It had never been a surprise.

  He’d felt a little smug, actually, that once again he’d been proved right.

  But this time he felt ashamed of his previous behaviour. His father must be devastated to have lost such a connection with another person. To have lost that spark, that magic, a person to share your day with. To laugh with. To share everything with.

  And yet as his father related some golfing anecdote Gray didn’t see any of that. No sadness. No regret. Nothing.

  ‘Did you love her?’ he asked, interrupting his father.

  The older man’s eyes widened. ‘I thought I did,’ he said, after a long moment. ‘But no. I didn’t. If I had, I don’t think I’d feel so relieved that it’s over.’

  Yes, that was it. Relief. That was his dad’s overriding emotion. As it had been in every divorce that Gray could remember.

  Relief. Wasn’t that what he should be feeling when it came to Lanie?

  She’d done the right thing by ending it. She’d been absolutely right. Their relationship hadn’t been going anywhere.

  And, more importantly, she did deserve more than that. A lot more than that.

  She deserved everything she’d spoken about that night—to live her life beyond her swimming career and to fill it with experiences, and joy, and definitely with love.

  In which case, why was he thinking about her now?

  Now, weeks later—weeks since he’d seen her, given he’d changed his daily running track. He’d figured it wouldn’t be fair to Lanie to share her beach.

  Or fair to him...

  He went to take another long drink of his beer—only to realise his glass was empty.

  He had no idea what his father was saying, but he nodded occasionally as he tried to pull his own thoughts together.

  He did know one thing: he wasn’t relieved that things had ended with Lanie.

  * * *

  Lanie sighed as she unknotted her apron and hung it on a hook in the café’s small office.

  Bob grinned as he looked up from counting the day’s takings. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

  She smiled back. ‘Honestly, you’d think after all my years of swimming I’d be fit enough to run about all day.’

  ‘Maybe that should be your plan when you reopen the place—an underwater café. Then you could swim the orders out to customers.’

  Lanie tilted her head, as if giving the idea serious consideration. ‘You know, you could be onto something.’

  Five minutes later, with her bag swung over her shoulder, she headed for the beach. The little café shut each day at five p.m.—something she did plan to change when her purchase of the café was finalised—and at this time of year there were still hours of daylight remaining.

  The sand was only sparsely dotted with people—a few sunbathers, a handful of dogs, and some kids splashing about in the shallows. The afternoon sea breeze had kicked in, and it urged small white-tipped waves from the ocean. One hopeful surfer bobbed just behind the waves, and far, far beyond him a lone container ship was silhouetted against the sky.

  Lanie dumped her bag, quickly tugged her cotton dress off over her bathers, then pulled her swim-cap on over her hair. Lacing her fingers behind her back, she stretched her shoulders and chest slowly, then moved through the remainder of her stretching routine. She finished by sitting on her towel, her fingers wrapped around her feet as she pulled them gently towards herself to stretch the muscles of her hips and legs.

  Now was normally the point when she leapt to her feet—ready and raring to go, to feel the shocking coolness of the ocean against her skin, and then minutes later the satisfying burn in her lungs.

  But today she paused.

  The sun was still high in the sky, and it made her squint as she stared out to the horizon.

  She should be feeling good. Fantastic, even.

  The moment Bob had told her he was retiring and selling his business she’d known taking over the café and his lease on the building was the right thing for her to do. It had taken every cent of her savings, plus a substantial loan, but she figured her own home could wait, and for now she was living in the two tiny rooms at the back of the café.

  Lanie now knew she couldn’t work for anyone but herself—and not just because of her experience working with Gray. She needed to feel in complete control of this next phase of her life—good or bad, she was in charge of what happened next. That meant a lot to her.

  But this was going to be good. She truly believed it—especially when she was down here at the beach.

  This place reassured her.

  Here she was in her element. The ocean didn’t think she was tall or awkward—in fact amongst the waves she felt alive, strong, powerful. Elegant in a way she’d never felt in a fifty-metre pool. There she’d compared herself to others—to the girls on the blocks either side of her, to her sister.

  Someone was always faster, prettier, or more talented.

  But here in the ocean she let go of all that. She stopped judging herself. Stopped judging others.

  It was impossible not to—out there it was just her in the water. No stopwatches, no competitors, no finish line.

  In the water sometimes she even felt beautiful.

  She never had before—except, of course, with Gray.

  She shook her legs as if to chase the memories of Gray away.

  There was absolutely no point thinking of him, although knowing that didn’t really stop it happening. Especially when she swam.

  Lanie clambered to her feet and slid her goggles over her eyes.

  Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

  * * *

  The sun was about to start moving towards the horizon as Lanie swam towards the shore. She pulled her cap and goggles off and held them in one hand as she dived beneath the surface, finger-combing her tangled hair away from her face.

  Moments later a splash a few metres to her left grabbed her attention. A tennis ball, bright yellow, bobbed beside her.

  Its owner made himself apparent almost immediately, leaping through the water until his paws didn’t reach the bottom, then thrashing about enthusiastically as he paddled to the ball.

  Luther.

  True to form, the dog ignored her entirely, his focus exclusively on his prized possession. He snatched the ball up into his mouth, then swiftly made his way back to the sand—only to drop the ball as soon as he got there, then look back at Lanie, his body tense with anticipation.

  ‘I can’t throw it from out here, mate.’

  A male voice—Gray’s voice—immediately to her right.

  As if the dog understood he happily trotted a few metres up the beach, then dropped to his stomach, the ball between his paws. Waiting patiently.

  Of course Gray was here, if Luther was. But still, having him so close was unexpected and disconcerting. Or at least that was the reason she gave for the way her tummy immediately lightened at the familiar sound of his voice.

  She’d been swimming back, but now the water was shallow enough to stand, so she did as she turned to face Gray. He was standing in the water too, his hair slicked back and his bare chest gleaming in the sun.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hi.’

  For long minutes they just stood there. Lanie didn’t know what to do or to say.

  ‘Bob told me you bought his café,’ Gray said eventually.

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. He’s spent the past month teaching me everything he knows, and then he’s leaving me to i
t.’

  ‘You’ll do great.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  The terribly awkward conversation segued into an even more awkward silence. Lanie realised she was still splashing her cap and goggles about in the water, so she made her hands go still.

  ‘I’m glad you came back to the beach. Luther loves it here. I hope you weren’t avoiding it because of me,’ she said. Her gaze drifted to the shore and she wished herself back at her towel. Or at home. Anywhere but here.

  Because it had been bad enough thinking about Gray over the past few weeks. Standing metres away from him was impossible.

  ‘Of course I was avoiding it because of you.’

  Her attention snapped back to Gray. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She attempted a blasé laugh. ‘I’d hate for one simple weekend to ruin North Cottesloe beach for you for ever. Seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?’

  ‘But that was the problem, wasn’t it, Lanie? It was more than just a weekend.’

  Lanie’s realised she was gripping her goggles so hard that they were digging into her palms.

  ‘You didn’t seem to think so,’ she said, then immediately wished the words back.

  She needed to end this conversation now. It was pointless. They’d covered all this before. And it hurt just as much the second time around.

  ‘What if I was wrong?’

  She made herself meet his gaze, trying to ignore the pathetic butterflies of hope that swirled around her stomach. ‘Were you?’

  He nodded. ‘I used to think that love was a weakness. A possible chink in my armour. A risk—a complication that I didn’t need and that could distract me and shift my focus from what was really important.’

  ‘Which is Manning,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘No. It’s part of it—but now I know it’s not everything. It’s not even close to everything I need in my life. My dad knows that too. That’s why he keeps searching for love. He definitely doesn’t always make the right decisions, but I can no longer deride him for trying. We’ve been talking a lot, and I think once he was in love. He keeps searching for that feeling again.’