Stranded With His Boss
An Amber Falls Short
Rheland Richmond
Contents
1. Ford
2. Sawyer
3. Ford
4. Sawyer
5. Ford
6. Sawyer
7. Ford
8. Sawyer
9. Ford
10. Sawyer
11. Ford
12. Sawyer
13. Ford
14. Sawyer
15. Ford
16. Sawyer
17. Sawyer
18. Ford
19. Sawyer
Afterword
Also by Rheland Richmond
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2018 Rheland Richmond
All rights reserved.
Cover Art: Cosmic Letterz
Edited by: Ann Attwood Editing and Proofreading Services
Proofreading: Theresa Preston and Susie Selva
Published in the United States by Rheland Richmond
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, scanned, or transmitted in any format or by any means without the prior written permission from the author, Rheland Richmond. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is pure coincidence. As are any similarities to any businesses, events or locations.
All products and brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holder and or company. I do not own the rights to these, nor do I claim to.
For Theresa for keeping me sane and always believing in me.
I appreciate your friendship and constant support.
1
Ford
“All scheduled flights have been canceled until after Christmas. Private planes are no exception. I’m sorry, sir, but nobody’s going anywhere.” Ford hung up the phone and had to forcibly swallow the scream of frustration trying to get out.
The door to the temporary office his boss was using was open and he was currently clearing his desk of all the files until they returned in the new year. Ford looked at the man moving around in the office, all sleek and suave like a jungle cat. He was possibly the most good-looking man Ford had ever laid his eyes on. Not to mention successful, meaning he won the most eligible bachelor lottery.
His boss, Sawyer Lancaster, was the definition of an entrepreneur. He had what the Financial Times had called the “Midas touch” and whatever company he invested in ended up making a mint.
That was probably how he had convinced old man Roberts to sell the small ski hotel his family had owned for almost three generations. Now Mr. Lancaster was turning it into a high-end ski resort in the winter and in the summer it would offer hiking, mountain biking, zip-lining, and all the other wonderful outdoor things you could dream of doing during the summer months.
Construction would be starting in the new year and that was when his boss was supposed to be returning after Ford left for the holidays, but it looked like he wouldn’t be leaving at all. With the weather the way it was, there was no way Sawyer was making it to New York for the holiday season.
Ford knew it wasn’t his fault his boss had chosen to leave things until the last minute to get a booking and now they were snowed in. But it fell on Ford to tell Mr. Lancaster he wouldn’t be going anywhere.
How on Earth was Ford supposed to tell a man who probably didn’t know the meaning of failure that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance of getting a flight out of town?
Fuck my life was all Ford could think.
Everyone else had left to start their Christmas vacations and it was just him and Mr. Lancaster still in the office. Christmas fell on Tuesday this year and it was Thursday. According to the weather forecast he’d checked after speaking to the very unhelpful woman on the phone, they were likely going to be snowed in until Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.
Ford loved living in his small town of Amber Falls. To him it was perfect, they had the ski slopes, and their gorgeous lakes, the mountains, and the most awesome hot spring ever. He’d grown up in Amber Falls and he would probably die here if he had anything to say about it.
His town was the best of small-town America. They had bigger cities within driving distance, but they were still, in essence, a small-town community where neighbors still looked out for each other.
The town’s main source of income was tourism, yet they were selective on who they allowed to open up shop. Ford saw it as the best of all worlds, but he wasn’t sure how to tell his uber-sophisticated boss that he would be having an Amber Falls Christmas instead of spending the holidays in New York.
Ford hadn’t been outside of Colorado, but if every TV show and movie was to be believed, a New York Christmas was all about the glitz. While Amber Falls was stunning, it was no New York.
When he’d applied for the job of Mr. Lancaster’s assistant during this project and had gotten it, he’d been so excited—especially because it meant he would be up for a job at the resort once it opened. But now he was cursing his good luck.
Then again it seemed like said luck had run out because if he couldn’t get his boss out of the state, hell, out of this town, then he’d be screwed six ways to Sunday. And not in a good way either.
I’ll probably have to start looking for a new job by the new year, Ford thought bleakly.
Ford didn’t know where his boss would stay. He’d called around to the four B&B’s in town and had been told they were all booked up. Amber Falls was picturesque this time of year, so they got a lot of people from around the country who wanted to experience a snowy Christmas, and then there were the avid skiers. That meant that his boss who’d already checked out of one of those B&B’s was now stuck in town with nowhere to go.
Yeah. Not good. Fuck my life!
Ford wiped his face with his hands in frustration trying to come up with a way to first tell his boss there were no flights out, but also that the cozy B&B he’d been staying at was now fully booked.
When he looked up, Mr. Lancaster, or Sawyer as he called him in his head, was standing in the office doorway with his briefcase in hand, ready to go.
Ford couldn’t help the involuntary stirring in his chest and pants that followed. The man was sex on legs. It probably sounded clichéd as fuck but the man was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. There should be a picture of him next to that description in the dictionary.
At thirty-four years old, with dark hair and a natural golden hue to his skin that made him seem beautifully tan all year round, Sawyer—Mr. Lancaster—was fucking perfection. He was leaning against the doorway wearing a black wool sweater that looked like it would be soft to the touch, and a crisp white shirt underneath. His long legs were encased in snug, black jeans and he was wearing designer boots that had probably cost more than Ford’s car.
He’d seen his boss in perfectly cut business suits that had him drooling, but the man’s body—his ass and legs—were made for denim. Hell, his ass was a Levi’s commercial waiting to happen.
Ford looked up and caught Mr. Lancaster watching him through dark hooded eyes like he was waiting for the bad news. He would bet his salary the man knew something was wrong. His boss hadn’t gotten to where he was without intuition and the ability to read people.
“Is my car to the airport ready?” Sawyer asked in the deep voice that had goosebumps popping up on Ford’s skin.
“Spit it out, Ford. What’s the problem?” Sawyer asked.
Of course, he would hate Ford beating around the bush, he was a busy man after all.
“There’s a little problem…” Ford started.
“Okay?” Sawyer prompted, his perfect dark brows raised. Ford knew for a fact the man’s brows were natural. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. He would bet that those perfect arches were God-given.
“A slight delay,” Ford said, and wasn’t that the mother of all understatements right there.
“Spit it out already, Ford,” Sawyer said in an even tone.
Ford swallowed. Damn it. He could see the career he’d hoped for in Sawyer’s company going up in flames. He was paid—and rather well too—to problem solve and anticipate the man’s needs during his time working on this project, yet somehow, he couldn’t even manage that.
“I’ve tried everything, I even looked into hiring a private jet, but everything is grounded,” Ford blurted out.
Sawyer didn’t respond, he simply waited.
“I also tried booking you back into the room you were in, but it was booked in advance for the holiday weekend. There are no flights or rooms left,” Ford said with a wince, before bracing himself for whatever storm followed.
“Let me get this straight,” Sawyer said, his eyes narrowing. Ford lowered his head, but if he hadn’t then maybe he would have caught the way Sawyer’s lips lifted in amusement. “The snowstorm that's coming means there is no flight for me to leave today as planned. And add to that, the bed and breakfast I have been staying in for the past month has already given out my room? Is that the sum of things?”
Ford nodded not looking up. “Flights are grounded, and the roads will soon become too dangerous to drive on,” he replied, whispering just loud enough for the other man to hear him.
Ford glanced outside the window of the trailer and could already see the snow coming down heavier than it had been earlier in the day.
He peeked at Sawyer from beneath his lashes and saw the man’s gaze had followed his to the window.
“No flights,” Sawyer said.
“Not until Christmas Eve or even Christmas Day,” Ford confirmed. “And, uhmmm… that depends on the weather too.”
“And you’re saying there are no private jets?” Sawyer inquired.
“Nothing is flying out. The closest airport is diverting its flights,” Ford admitted.
The man was silent, so Ford took a chance and looked up, only to find Sawyer’s dark penetrating gaze on him. And instead of looking away he couldn’t help but hold Sawyer’s gaze.
“Organize a car for me to get to the second closest airport,” Sawyer said.
Ford looked away as though maybe if he wasn’t looking at Sawyer he wouldn’t have to see those beautiful eyes look at him filled with disappointment. “No one is willing to drive that far, especially if they aren’t sure if they’ll be able to make it back in time for Christmas,” Ford admitted.
“I need to be in New York for Christmas,” Sawyer stated.
Ford couldn’t help the jealousy in his heart at that comment. Who or what was waiting for him back in New York? If the gossip columns were to be believed—not that he’d read them looking for stories on his new boss—the man was an equal opportunity dater. He had been seen out and about with beautiful men and women and was said to like both equally.
He remembered a picture he’d seen of Sawyer with the ridiculously perfect specimen that was a Calvin Klein model. He’d also been seen with a Victoria’s secret angel, who, if Ford was into that sort of thing, could be considered attractive. But the tabloids made it seem like no one stuck around for too long. So, who was waiting for him in New York?
“I’m sorry, sir. There’s simply no way to get you to New York safely,” Ford replied.
Sawyer stared at him for a moment, as if he was debating what to say or deciding how he would react to the information he’d just been given.
Ford saw the moment Sawyer realized he would be in Amber Falls for Christmas. The man gave an almost imperceptible shrug as though he was accepting his fate.
“Well, I assume if my room at the B&B is booked, then you’ve booked me a new one somewhere else. Am I correct?”
Ford tried to stop the frown or wince his body was trying to push forth, but he must have done a poor job because Sawyer raised his eyebrows higher than Ford thought possible. Ford was silent while trying to compose his answer in the best way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly sure how to tell Sawyer Lancaster that he was having a Mary and Joseph moment and all the inns were full. If Ford was honest, the manger was probably occupied too at this point. Well, at least there was no impending childbirth, so that was a silver lining. Although not for him.
“Let me guess, there are no rooms left in town?” Sawyer asked in a bland tone.
Ford grimaced but nodded.
“So, just for clarity, I’m stranded in this town with no way out and there are no hotel rooms?” Sawyer asked in an unreadable tone.
Ford nodded again, but still was unable to speak.
“Well at least I know the resort is going to be a good investment,” Sawyer said dryly.
Ford couldn’t help the snort that came out in reply to that statement. Well, the man wasn’t wrong. Their town did a good tourist business. There was even a dude ranch about to open not far from where his parents lived. Well, where he lived too, since he’s still lived with his parents.
“I’m sorry,” Ford finally said, hanging his head.
2
Sawyer
Sawyer knew he shouldn’t be finding the situation amusing, but his assistant, the lovely Ford, looked like a kicked puppy. All sad blue eyes and pouty lips. He wouldn’t lie, when he’d heard he was stranded, he was furious. He’d promised Theresa and Mark he would spend Christmas with them. Their twins were two this year and they wanted to start creating traditions. And somehow that included him. Go figure.
He’d met his best friend and business partner Mark in college. He was the scholarship kid, and Mark the blue blood with a trust fund the size of the GDP of some small countries. Yet somehow or other, they’d hit it off. Mark and his family had adopted him. Even when Mark had met and married Theresa their relationship hadn’t waned. In fact, she treated him the same as she treated Mark’s blood siblings.
But there was nothing he could do, even though he hated to disappoint his godchildren. He knew Mark and Theresa would understand him being stranded.
He would have to give them a call at some point to explain—after he figured out where he would be sleeping.
Sawyer thought about making his lovely assistant squirm a bit longer, but he wasn’t that cruel. Besides time was getting on, and he needed to find a bed for the next few nights. Even though he wasn’t one to impose and he’d passed the stage in his life where he begged for charity, it looked like that was about to happen.
“So, you're the townie.” Sawyer said. “Where do you suggest I stay?”
“Uhmm… well uh…” Ford's cheeks stained pink as he stammered, flustered. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
“Are you saying, Mr. Erickson, that you don’t intend to invite me into your home for Christmas?” Sawyer teased. “I am disappointed to find all the things said about small-town hospitality are a complete lie.”
Sawyer wanted to bark out a laugh at the gobsmacked look on Ford’s face and the way his mouth was hanging open.
“Well?” Sawyer prompted. Although he was teasing, it honestly seemed like the easiest solution. As much as he knew it would blur the line, which he’d been trying not to do since the magnificence that was Ford Erickson walked into his office and told him he was his new assistant.
Sawyer had considered pursuing the young blond but had tamped down his libido and attraction when the young man had proven invaluable to the project. Ford knew things only an insider would, and it had definitely made some of the residents of Ambe
r Falls more receptive to Sawyer.
Sawyer’s brain supplied images of him and the slimmer man in bed, riding out the blizzard together. The more vivid the picture became, the less upset he was about being stranded.
They were adults, he was sure they could sate their appetites and go back to working together with no problems.
“So, am I invited to Christmas dinner then?” Sawyer prompted.
“Uhhm, well I live with…” Ford stammered, but cut himself off like he’d thought better of it. “Of course you’re invited, sir,” Ford said formally.
Well, now that just wouldn’t do. He couldn’t have Ford calling him “sir.” They were officially off the clock. He would like to hear his name coming out of those pink lips.
“Sawyer. You can call me Sawyer since I will be dependent on your hospitality and you may likely see me in my underwear,” he said with a wink.
Sawyer didn’t miss the way Ford swallowed at the word “underwear,” or the way his eyes roved over his body before meeting his gaze briefly then looking away. He also didn’t miss the fact that the blush on the man's cheeks deepened.
“Because we will be sharing a bathroom of course… well, I assume in any case,” Sawyer said, stopping with the teasing before the younger man reached tomato level blushing. Although Sawyer found he enjoyed the covert glances and the bashfulness he rarely saw with his other sexual partners.
“Sawyer,” Ford swallowed before continuing like he’d been tasting Sawyer’s name on his tongue, “I would love to have you for Christmas.”
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