Open Life (Open Skies #5)

by Marysol James

  She stared at him, shocked, stunned, moved.

  “That’s my side of this, but my side is only half of what’s going on here,” Eric said. “You need to decide what you want with me and you decide right. Next week, next month, next year… I’m ready when you are, angel, and there’s no rush and no pressure. You take your time and you think if you want to be with me. If you do, you let me know and we’ll figure it all out.”

  “And if I don’t?” she forced herself to ask. “If I can’t – can’t get over you having Cam’s heart?”

  “Then we go our separate ways and get on with our respective lives.”

  “You’ll be angry at me?”

  “No. Never.” He shook his head. “If you aren’t sure or it hurts you to be around me, then the last thing I want is for you to ignore those things. You need to be honest, Annabeth, with me and with yourself. I promise you – if you can’t do this for whatever reason, it’s OK.”

  She looked at him and she believed him. He may have misled her when they first met, but ever since he’d come clean, Eric had been honest to a fault. If she told him to let her go, he would. She knew that.

  “So what do we do?” she asked.

  “Well, right now we drink our coffee and eat those cinnamon buns. Then maybe we can go for a walk? Look at some wildflowers?”

  Her heart squeezed. “I’ve missed them.”

  “What? The mountain flowers?”

  “Yeah. Looking at them with you.”

  “I’ve missed doing everything with you,” he said quietly. “Everything.”

  Annabeth looked at him sitting there, so huge and handsome. It was unbelievable to her that this man wanted her as much as he did – but it was true. All she had to do was reach out and accept the love he was offering, the future he was promising, and then he was hers. She didn’t know what to do with any of that yet… if anything.

  “So.” She brushed her hair back, trying to sound normal. “We’ve got three weeks. Let’s do some of those things we’ve missed, huh?”

  “Agreed. Starting with coffee and cinnamon buns.”

  Annabeth felt pure happiness rising in her. “Yep. We’ll start with caffeine and icing sugar.”

  “Perfect.”

  And it really was.

  Chapter Five

  Three days before Jake and Julie’s wedding, Maria was checking out the last non-wedding guest from Open Skies. Mrs. Felicia Kramer was a regular customer at the hotel and she was also a never-ending pain in Maria’s butt. More than once, Maria had longed for the courage to tell the woman to just shut the hell up – but fear for her job kept her mouth shut tight. The woman was the wife of an accountant that Julie worked with occasionally, so Maria felt that she was stuck taking whatever Mrs. Kramer dished out.

  And boy, was she ever dishing it out this morning. Despite the fact that she’d spoken to Maria approximately two hundred times in her life and the two women had communicated beautifully, she insisted on acting as though Maria couldn’t understand a word she said. It made Maria’s blood boil that this rich bitch took one look at her dark hair and eyes and non-lily-white skin and saw nothing but a Mexican. Forget that she was born right here in Colorado and had never been to Mexico in the whole of her life… women who looked like her were always ‘the help’ for people like Mrs. Kramer, and they never let you forget it for even one damn second.

  Knowing that she was now in the home stretch in terms of shifting this awful woman out the front door to her chauffeured car waiting outside, Maria glanced down at the bill. “And you took four private tennis lessons with Kieran, correct?”

  “No. Three.” Mrs. Kramer tapped her glossy nails on the counter. “Not four.”

  Maria paused. “Kieran made a note for four.”

  “Well, the boy is mistaken. I had three.”

  “Uh. He says you had a lesson every day since you arrived.”

  “No. I didn’t have one on Tuesday.”

  Maria paused again. “Well, actually, Mrs. Kramer, you did.”

  “What?” The woman’s blue eyes opened wide and she looked scandalized. “How do you know?”

  “Because on Tuesday I was down at the stables bringing food for a campfire for some of the kids. I passed the tennis courts on my way there and back and I saw you having a lesson.”

  “No. That’s not correct.”

  “I’m afraid it is, ma’am.” She tapped on her keyboard. “So, I’ll add four lessons to your bill, OK?”

  “Maybe the problem is that you can’t understand me,” Mrs. Kramer said loudly, enunciating clearly. “Maybe your English isn’t very good and that’s why we’re having this issue. I did not have a lesson on Tuesday.”

  Dillon had been watching and listening to all of this quietly, but he got to his feet now. He fixed his glare on the bitch with the frosted blonde hair and the blinding bling and opened his mouth to put her in her goddamn place.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Maria saw Dillon’s hulking frame moving closer and she shot him a warning look. Just about the last thing she needed was Dillon barrelling on in to this situation with his usual subtlety and decorum – which was the etiquette equivalent of a ten-ton truck with jammed brakes. He seemed to hear her, thank Christ, and he simply stood and glowered.

  She turned back to Mrs. Kramer, determined to be professional. “My English is fine, Mrs. Kramer,” Maria said politely. “As you know, I was born in the States.”

  “Ah.” The woman’s pencil-thin eyebrows were raised in a way that seemed oddly sarcastic. “An anchor baby, correct?”

  Maria froze now, stunned at how much that hurt. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, I hope your family’s as legal as you are. We have a huge Mexican problem, as I’m sure you know. Not that you’re Mexican, of course, you’re American. Mostly.”

  Dillon had heard enough. Enraged, he stepped in to the conversation, ignoring Maria’s mute plea for him to back off.

  “Shut the hell up, lady,” he snarled. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

  Both women gasped but he didn’t even pause.

  “Now listen up, yeah? I was with Maria on Tuesday. I helped her carry the stuff down to the stables and I saw you in your too-short skirt taking a tennis lesson and drooling all over Kieran. What do you have to say to that?”

  “I – I – you…” Mrs. Kramer sputtered. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like this?”

  “I’m a guy who thinks that money can’t buy class and it sure as hell can’t buy human decency. Now, pay your goddamn bill and get your ass to your car.”

  “Dillon,” Maria murmured. “Please…”

  “Please what, darlin’?” he demanded. “You think she has the right to talk to you like this just ‘cause she opened up her legs and married money?”

  Mrs. Kramer’s eyes lit up with anger. “I want to speak to Julie Everett this instant.”

  “Oh, no,” Maria began but Dillon interrupted her.

  “Excellent idea,” he said. “Call her, Maria.”

  “No, please.” Maria was suddenly terrified that she’d be fired. “Dillon, it’s fine.”

  “I insist,” Mrs. Kramer said, obviously enjoying Maria’s panic. “Call her.”

  “Call her,” Dillon echoed.

  Maria bit her lip and picked up the phone. She knew that Dillon was in the right here, she knew that Felicia Kramer was behaving horrifically. But she also knew that she was just the receptionist and as such, she was the lowest person on the totem pole. Jeremy Kramer was a big deal in certain financial circles in the state and his wife rode the coattails of that damn near to death.

  “Maria?” Julie said. “What’s up?”

  “Could you – could you please come to reception?” Maria asked.

  “There’s a problem?”

  “Uh. Yes.”

 
“Ten seconds.” Julie disconnected.

  Maria had just set the phone down when she heard Julie’s office door open. She looked down the hallway to see her boss sweeping down the corridor past the marketing and sales offices. As always, the woman was gorgeous and perfect and Maria felt nothing but fear. God, she’d love to kill Dillon for forcing this issue.

  Later. I’ll kill him later.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Kramer,” Julie said.

  “It most certainly is not,” the older woman responded. “Your staff member tried to rip me off for a lesson I never took and then this young man –” She jabbed her finger at Dillon, who looked supremely unconcerned by everything going on, “– called me a whore and told me to get the hell out of your hotel.”

  Julie looked puzzled at both pieces of information. “I see.”

  “I love to come here, as you know,” Mrs. Kramer continued. “And my husband sends a great deal of business your way. Word of mouth, you know. But this kind of behavior simply can’t be tolerated.”

  “Uh-huh.” Julie turned to Maria. “What happened?”

  Maria explained about the tennis lesson, with Dillon backing her up. Julie nodded, called Kieran, hung up the phone.

  “You did have a lesson on Tuesday, Mrs. Kramer,” she said. “So you will be charged for a fourth lesson. Now, what’s this about Dillon supposedly insulting you?”

  “Not supposedly,” Mrs. Kramer said. “He did insult me.”

  Julie turned to Dillon. “Did you?”

  “I did,” he responded amiably. “And more than once.”

  Julie blinked. “OK. Why?”

  “Because she called Maria an anchor baby and part of this country’s Mexican problem and she said that Maria can’t speak English properly.” His eyes glittered. “Rudeness for rudeness, Julie.”

  Julie was shocked. “She – what?” She spun and stared at Maria. “Is this true?”

  Maria looked down and nodded. Julie studied her, softened a bit.

  “Maria?”

  Maria looked at her boss. “Yes?”

  “Is this the first time this has happened?”

  Maria was taken aback at the question. “Ummm… well.” She gave Mrs. Kramer a panicked look. “Well… it’s… she’s…”

  “Honey,” Julie said softly. “Just tell me the truth, OK? Has this kind of thing happened before with this guest?”

  Maria twisted her fingers together to stop her shaking. “Yes.”

  “OK, thank you.” Julie turned to Mrs. Kramer. “Pay up and go, please. And I’m officially informing you that you’re not welcome back at Open Skies.”

  Dillon grinned at her. Julie Everett’s no-bullshit demeanor came in awfully handy sometimes, he’d come to appreciate.

  “I’m sorry?” Mrs. Kramer stuttered.

  “I certainly hope that you are.” Julie’s voice was dripping with ice. “You have no right to speak to anyone that way. You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself, but I imagine that’s hoping for too much.”

  “Do you know how much my husband can hurt your little business?” the other woman hissed. “What he can do?”

  “I do know.” Julie was calm. “And do you know how bad it would look if word got out that Jeremy Kramer’s wife is a racist who refuses to cough up a hundred bucks for a tennis lesson?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Again, you should be. I’m happy to call over to Kramer and Findley this morning and explain the situation to Mr. Kramer and his name partner. If you wish.”

  “I – no.” Mrs. Kramer was discomfited. “No. He’s busy with a merger.”

  “Oh, I know.” Julie smiled. “The last thing he needs is some nasty press about his wife, huh?”

  “Press?”

  “Sure.” Julie shrugged. “Human interest stories about the spoiled rich are always popular, aren’t they? But I imagine Jeremy won’t appreciate the negative publicity and accusations of racism, seeing as he’s trying to portray his firm as ethical… don’t you agree?”

  “I do agree, Ms. Everett.” Felicia Kramer was beaten and she knew it. She shot Dillon a look of pure hatred and he sneered back at her. “I think we can consider this matter closed.”

  “Excellent.” She looked over at Maria. “Settle Mrs. Kramer’s bill, please. She’s leaving now.”

  Maria nodded again and Dillon saw that her hands were still trembling. He wanted to reach out to her and take her hands in his, to help her calm down a bit, but he didn’t want to shake her up any more than she already was. He assumed she was pissed at him for forcing this whole issue and even though he wasn’t sorry to have called this woman out, he was sorry to have upset Maria.

  After Mrs. Kramer had paid her bill, Dillon strode across the lobby and opened the door for her. Her eyes flashed but she said nothing; she lifted her chin and swept out of Open Skies like a queen. They all watched her go and then they sighed collectively.

  Julie turned to Maria, more gentle now. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me or Rob?”

  “Well, you know,” Maria murmured. “The customer’s always right.”

  “Except when the customer’s racist,” Julie said. “Or sexist or homophobic or a general asshole. Then? The customer’s most definitely not right, and never again are you to be afraid to tell them so.”

  “But I’m just the receptionist.”

  “You’re not ‘just’ anything, Maria, and I won’t have you saying otherwise. You’re great at your job and you’re a patient and sweet person and nobody should take advantage of any of that. You hear me?”

  Dillon was about two seconds away from launching the Julie Everett Fan Club. Hell, he’d even nominate himself as President. The woman was really OK after all, wasn’t she? He watched as she zeroed in on Maria, really hammering her point home.

  “Maria? You hear me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. So from now on, you stand up for yourself with guests and suppliers and I’ll back you up.”

  “Ummm.” Maria fidgeted. “I can’t always do that.”

  “Why not?” Julie looked enlightened. “You have another problem with someone right now, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Maria took a deep breath. “Bethany.”

  “Bethany?” Julie looked perplexed. “Bethany Sims?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. So… what’s the problem?”

  “She’s holding your wedding flowers hostage.”

  Julie cocked her head. “She’s raising the prices on you?”

  “Yeah. Massively.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “Tell her to fuck herself.”

  Julie and Dillon almost fell over backwards in shock at her language, then they both laughed, delighted.

  “So why don’t you?” Julie asked after she had recovered.

  “I don’t want to ruin your special day,” Maria said. “You need a bridal bouquet and table flowers and… well, you know. I want it all to be perfect for you.”

  “Oh, honey.” Julie reached over and took Maria’s hands. “I’m marrying the man that I love at the most beautiful place I’ve ever known, surrounded by people who have changed my life. How can you possibly ruin my special day? How can anyone?”

  “I – I – ” Maria felt her face flush. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

  “There’s literally no other way to think about it, I promise you,” Julie said. “And fun fact… did you know that Eric Neilson is a professional florist?”

  “Uh. No.” Maria was astonished. “I mean, I know that he owns some kind of landscaping business, but I figured he knew about plants and trees and stuff like that… I guess I just never thought about flowers and bouquets.”

  “Well, yeah, he does own a landscaping business – one which specializes in designing gar
dens. The man’s forgotten more about flowers than any of the rest of us have ever known.” Julie’s mint-green eyes sparkled. “So tell Bethany to take a hike and ask Eric for some help. I’ll bet he’d be able to put together a bridal bouquet and direct you to some wildflowers that’d look great on the tables.”

  “Wildflowers?” Maria stuttered. “Just – just picked off the mountains?”

  “Yeah. Why not?” Julie shrugged. “I love them.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” Julie smiled. “Nobody’s coming to our wedding to critique the flowers, Maria. They’re coming to see Jake and I get married.”

  “And for the free Champagne,” Dillon piped up.

  “Damn straight,” Julie agreed. “So relax, Maria. You’ve done an amazing job with taking care of all the accommodation for the guests, and booking the minister, and organizing all the food and alcohol, and the music for the ceremony, and the DJ for the reception. But if Bethany’s being a bitch on wheels about the flowers, then just cut her loose. OK?”

  “OK.” Maria looked a bit dazed. “I – I will.”

  “Well, I’d love to stick around and see this for myself, but I have a dress fitting with Tammy.” Julie grinned at Dillon. “You’ll stand in as moral support in my stead?”

  “Oh, you know it, darlin’,” he said. “It’s all under control.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” Julie nodded at Maria. “No holding back, Maria, OK? If she’s behaving badly and treating you like shit, then it’s perfectly fine to point that out to her in no uncertain terms.”

  “Rudeness for rudeness?” Maria asked.

  “Yeah. Always be polite and diplomatic at first and try to solve things. But there is a point where it’s fine to call someone a pain in the ass. And we’re there. Aren’t we?”