Free Larissa Learns to Breathe by Ruby Laska

lying.
    Tommy looked out at the ocean, at the brilliant November sun slicing through the last of the morning mists, shining down on the white beach and the neat rows of cabanas that would be his responsibility in six days when they were filled with guests. He always felt a sense of pride that the view from the conference room was of his corner of the island, and while he might be biased, he thought it was the finest view around.
    Except today, the sky was not the unbroken blue it had been all week. Near the western end, so that he had to crane his neck to see, the sky went from blue to an angry purple. The ocean was churning, waves crashing against the beach. The palms bent down, blown by a wind that hadn’t been there when he walked over. As he watched, one of the changing tents with their gaily striped awnings shivered violently and then pulled free of its stakes and went tumbling toward the water like a plastic bag caught in a draft.
    His timing perfect, Rafe’s voice asked, “How are preparations for the storm?”
    What storm? His colleagues looked at each other in confusion. There had been no warning in the forecast.
    But November was storm season. In all the years Tommy had spent on Key Grande, they’d gotten a few big ones every fall. But there hadn’t been any warning signs early this morning. And after that…well, after that there might as well have been a plague of locusts, for all he’d been paying attention.
    Voices erupted in confusion. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t expect a storm.
    Rafe chuckled. “I’d better let you go then. Let’s hope it blows over quickly, and you all get the Thanksgiving you deserve.”
    There were murmurs of agreement, and the meeting began to break up.
    A storm lashing the cliffs along the narrow western end of the island.
    The cliffs along the shortcut—the route he’d sent a woman who couldn’t swim.

CHAPTER TEN
    Larissa had ordered Bluebell to stay put. “Budweiser,” she’d said, blushing, after checking around her to make sure no one could hear. And it worked, the fourth or fifth time she said it, when she’d finally injected some steel into her voice. Bluebell had licked her hand sadly before slinking over to her bed and flopping down.
    But Larissa couldn’t have been more than five hundred yards down the path along cliffs rising above the ocean when she heard a joyful yelp: Bluebell had released herself from self-imposed jail and was bounding along behind her. Larissa sighed and crouched down, petting the dog’s silky ears and shaking her paw, which was offered with great sincerity.
    Why did the dog like her, anyway? Where was her sense of loyalty to her owner, her intuitive urge to protect him from danger?
    Because surely Larissa represented a danger to Tommy. She was nothing but trouble. An entrepreneur with no head for business; a would-be people person with no skill at making people like her. If she stuck around his place much longer, her bad luck would probably start to invade the charming cottage and the life he’d carved out for himself.
    â€œDogs don’t like me,” she tried explaining, enunciating carefully. But Bluebell only cocked her head and raised one eyebrow, as though being presented with a problem that made no sense. She lifted her paw again, for the eighth or ninth time, never getting tired of the game, and Larissa had no choice but to shake it.
    â€œMen don’t generally like me much either,” she admitted. “I mean, not that I’m feeling sorry for myself. I just…thought you should know.”
    Bluebell gently nudged Larissa’s knee with her pink snout. Yes. Time was of the essence. She’d taken a little more time than she should have getting ready for the meeting—if she was going to apologize, she might as well look her best, even if her short-lived employer couldn’t see her. She’d pulled her hair back in a