Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 12

Brynley

Do I like being in charge of my own department?

Yes.

Do I like having my own office?

Fuck yes.

Do I like the amount of paperwork I have to read every day in comparison to the none I read when I was a bartender?

No.

But I guess you can’t win ‘em all.

Swiping away another conservation project proposal occurs on a small sneer and shake of the head.

Why is it so difficult to understand that a good idea and a profitable idea are not necessarily one in the same?

And an even better question is why can’t my current, lead rescue team come to an agreement on one that benefits both marine life as well as the institute?

Am I really asking too much?

Hell, am I currently doing too much?

Not enough?

I’ve been back in this seat for a little over a week and have no clue if I’m drowning on the ocean floor or just an expert deep diver.

How the fuck did I ever learn to balance the whole having a marriage, a kid, and a career thing?!

Were caffeine injections involved?

I feel like they might’ve been involved.

There’s no way I was crushing it like I appear to be in all those photos without outside help.

Maybe it was Pop-Tarts?

I do love a good Pop-Tart.

Light knocks on the door precedes it cracking open and my assistant, Mercedez Mixon, wedging her fair skinned face into the created space. “Boss, your next appointment is here.”

I casually lean back in my orange leather office chair at the time same I declare, “I don’t like to be called boss.”

“Right,” the stringy blond giggles. “I keep forgetting that! Gale-”

“I’m not Gale.”

“-your replacement-”

“ Temporarily .”

“- insisted on everyone calling her that.” Mercedez pulls her tiny red painted lips to one side of her face. “She was totally so woat.”

“ What. The. Actual. Fuck. Is. Woat? ”

“Worst of all time,” giggles the young woman I wonder what the old me was thinking when she hired her. “ Obvs. ”

“Obvs,” leaves me on a mocking smile. “Could you go ahead and send in my two o’clock?”

“Toats!”

Her quick disappearance provides me with a brief moment alone to roll my eyes and tug down my top to cover more of the territory my light blue blazer would if it were on.

That’s one of the many, many perks of having my own office.

I don’t have to be buttoned up if I don’t feel like it.

Especially post having two rounds of honey whipped goat cheese with marinated olives.

Puppet Boy was right.

We definitely should’ve only had the one.

“You know I weirdly miss doing crumb checks with you, dude,” an oddly familiar voice greets, darting my gaze up to a face I’ve only seen in photos since the incident. “Not breath checks, though. It never failed. That shit always smelled like an oyster dumpster fire in the middle of the hottest day of summer.”

“Afternoon, Malibu Ken,” I playfully greet Calen Connelly, the one best friend I still haven’t had the chance to reconnect with. “What brings you by my humble beach house?”

He slowly strolls in, smirk stretching wider. “Do you actually have a beach house?”

“Not yet.” An arrogant grin is flashed. “However, Wes is looking.”

“Of course, Mega Millions is looking.”

“Mega Billions. ”

“Good to know you still do that,” he lightly laughs prior to pointing into the space in front of him. “Now, get over here and hug me like I just won the Pe’ahi Challenge.”

Leaping out of my chair and into his hold is effortlessly executed.

Both arms fly loving around him, and the instant he does the same, with my face wedged in his white polo, a sea of memories unexpectedly flow to the front of mind.

There’s sobbing.

And flashes of transportation equipment.

Jumbled thoughts of rain and Amphitrite and pineapple.

Huh.

Why pineapple?

Aside from it being the best tropical fruit to ever exist, of course.

“ I’m gifted, ” is thoughtlessly murmured into the fabric as wafts of sand and saltwater tickle my nose.

“ You’re exhausting. ”

Pulling back, I adoringly peer up at him, grateful for whatever unclear memories are keeping us tethered together. “ I’m the head bitch in charge. ”

“That you are, Lady Wilcox.” He maintains his pleasant disposition while untangling himself from me. “That you are.”

“Lady Wilcox? Really?” There’s no stopping my sarcastic head tilt. “That’s the best you can do?”

“That’s the best to do .” He slides his hands into his khaki pants and devilishly beams. “It pisses you off the same way it pisses Wilcox off when you refer to his dick as the Batarang.”

A glee-filled, theatrical gasp escapes. “ Ohhhhh! I’m so doing that tonight!”

“And this is probably why he kept postponing our reunion after the first family meal attempt.”

Laughter freely flows around the room, eventually ending with me announcing, “Remind me to give you my new number before you leave.”

“You changed your number?”

“ Wes changed my number.” I innocently shrug my indifference. “I was just thankful to finally have my own phone again.”

“That netting sounds tight.”

“It wasn’t exactly loose.”

“You doin’ okay with everything?” Sympathy doesn’t hesitate to be shown. “I mean…I’ve gotten Richie Rich’s weekly memos, so spare me that passive aggro bullshit and backdoor me, bro.”

“That sounds like a sex act.”

“It probably is.”

“I swear I did that at least twice in college and once on my honeymoon.” Another round spirals around my relatively small office space as I brace my ass on the edge of my slightly curved wooden desk. “Truth?”

He immediately nods.

“It isn’t flat.” I deliver an unnecessary adjustment to my messy, work bun. “There are constant fuckin’ waves. Sometimes they’re ankle busters and sometimes they’re barrels, but no matter what happens, I get back on my board. Swim out. And keep going.”

“Good.” Another undeniably gorgeous grin practically illuminates the entire office space. “And glad to see you remember how to speak my language.”

“Oh, choke on some foamies.” More snickers slip between us. “I was surfing and banging surfers long before I met you.”

It’s his turn to dramatically gasp. “My, my, Lady Wilcox. Does Lord of the Benjamins know?!” Playfully punching him in the shoulder prompts him to gasp again. “You are not supposed to strike employees. Didn’t you read your handbook?”

“I read and helped amend that shit.” Calen delivers a snarky smile. “Plus, you don’t work for me; therefore, you’re not technically one of my employees, which means striking isn’t a fire able offence.”

“Just a regular assault charge.”

“Exactly.” After this surge of chuckles, I investigate, “Now, what can this department head do for one of K&T’s lead veterinarians?”

“You can escort him to the sunflower sea stars I’m here to evaluate for possible transferring.”

“Oooo,” snatching up my jacket is a swift action, “that was one of the amendments I made!”

“It was.” He watches me wiggle on the article. “And I think having each vet have to inspect the creature in person themselves versus relying on others or mere evaluation paperwork to make a decision has done wonders. Not only has it created better relationships between aquatic organizations, but it’s cut down on the number of failed transfers due to vets often being able to spot something those that are untrained can’t.”

“I like compliments.” I button my jacket between statements. “Give me more.”

“This is where my nephew gets it.”

Chortles oscillate between us during the exiting of my office, yet once we’re out of what I’ve come to label as management cove, I resume my professional interrogation, “What’s the plan for these particular sunflower sea stars?”

“Larger captive breeding.” We continue our unhurried stroll towards the area where they’re segregated. “As you know our facility has the space while we hope to continue to use yours to host feeding as well as stimuli experiments.”

Ignoring the giddiness that begins coursing through my veins is impossible.

I studied for so long and so hard to be doing something – fuck, anything – in my industry and here I am.

Helping endangered creatures.

Arranging to rescue others.

Giving marine life a fighting chance.

Following my dreams just like my parents always encouraged me to.

Like I will encourage Wy to.

“We’re actually having some marine biology students from Clover Rose visit the facility in a couple weeks,” Calen announces while waiting for me to tap the keycard I’ve got lingering in my back, white suit pants pocket against the sensor. “Any chance you might be interested in being our special guest speaker?”

Hitting him with a look of perplexity is instant. “ Why me? ”

“You run an entire department at one of the most prestigious aquatic institutes in the country, you are bros before hos with the one who runs mine, you raise more money for your organization in a fiscal quarter – gross phrasing by the way – than any other organization on this side of the map, and have firsthand experience on life in the field and in the office.” I grant us access to the room with a simple push of the hand. “The fact you’re a smokin’ hot minority woman is really just a bonus hang ten.”

Smiling widely precedes me kicking my chin inside to where I assume Eoghan is waiting.

“At least consider it?” Our eyes meet during his passing. “It’d be a good excuse to come visit me. My pregnant wife. Your pet shark. ”

Thrill doesn’t hesitate to pierce my glare.

I do own a shark!

And if I correctly recall the agreement, I can visit him on any day, at any time, at any point.

Whatever is convenient for me.

Whenever my whims command it.

God, I love my life.

And what I love even more?

It’s finally starting to actually feel like mine again.