by Nina Crespo
His cell buzzed on his desk with an incoming text message. It was from Zurie.
Everything okay there?
This was the fourth time she’d checked in since yesterday. Lately, she was doing that more and more. What was up with her? Maybe she didn’t think he could handle things. It was the first time she’d left him in charge since the guesthouse opened. Did she really believe that after almost two years of proving himself, he’d just slack off?
How are things with Chloe?
Aside from her distracting him from work and keeping him from a good meal. Nothing at all. Thanks for asking. He responded.
All good. Busy. Talk later.
He dropped the phone on his desk and went back to typing.
“Tapping the keys works just as well as stabbing at them.” Rina walked into his office carrying a wrapped sandwich and pie.
His mouth watering drowned his retort.
She set the food in front of him.
He tore open the sandwich and took a bite. Smoky ham combined with the nutty flavor of homemade whole grain bread danced over his taste buds.
Rina dropped into the black-padded chair in front of his desk. “You’re welcome.”
“I was about to say thank you. Did you run out of lemon meringue pie?”
“Almost. I gave the last piece to Chloe.” She pointed at him and circled her finger in the air. “And that ugly look that just took over your face, along with your attitude, is why she deserved it more than you did.”
“The only reason I have this look on my face is because you just told me you gave away my slice of pie.”
“Deny it all you want, but it doesn’t seem that way to me. When I walked up to the van, it sounded like you were arguing with her, and when Gloria stopped by to grab lunch, she told me that you were in a bad mood, and she seemed to think Chloe had something to do with it. What’s up with you?”
He answered between bites. “It’s hectic. I’ve got horses transferring in from other stables that need special care, supplies being delivered later than expected, the south pasture gate needs a full replacement instead of just a new lock, and because of that pasture management is now delayed. Then the guesthouse has its own set of issues, something about not enough bath bombs for the VIP amenity baskets. Oh, and a tight budget. We may not have prime rib for Spring Fling if Philippa can’t shave a few dollars elsewhere from the menu.”
“And I’m guessing Zurie’s unexpected departure is adding to your frustration?” Rina’s faint smile meant she already knew the answer to that question.
Tristan set the sandwich on his desk. “It’s not so much about her deciding not to be here for a month. Don’t get me wrong, a heads-up of more than a half hour before she left for the airport would have been nice, but it’s all of the changes to the operation that’s bothering me. We’re barely keeping up with them. And she still won’t talk about the expansion plan, and in the midst of all of this, she not only leaves but hands me the bigger problem of babysitting an actress?”
Rina huffed a chuckle. “Well, if Chloe’s your biggest problem, you need more like her. After the way she handled the van during lunch, she deserves a standing ovation.”
“I’m sure she’d love the attention.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“Why do you say that?”
“Aren’t actresses naturally the attention-seeking type?”
“I don’t know about other actresses, but that’s not how she came across to me. Are you really seeing her or is she reminding you of someone else?”
“Who?”
“Erica.”
The mention of his father’s widow stole the pleasing taste from the food in his mouth. He swallowed. “Why bring her into this?”
“Because when I first walked up to the van and saw Chloe, for a second, she reminded me of her, and Erica did take acting lessons.”
He’d forgotten about Erica’s dream of taking over Hollywood.
His father had indulged her, paying for acting lessons that had required her to fly back and forth from Maryland to New York every week. But when Erica’s feelings had gotten hurt by criticism, she’d quit, and his father had cheered her up with a shopping spree. Clothes, jewelry, a fully loaded red sports convertible—what Erica wanted, Erica got...except for one thing. And that refusal had almost completely destroyed his relationship with his father.
Tristan pushed the half-eaten sandwich away. “I still don’t see your point in bringing her into this.”
“Maybe you’re making some subliminal connection between the two of them.”
No way. He was trying to sever any connections with Erica influencing his life, not make new ones. As he drank the last of the coffee in his mug, the tepid temperature along with the bitter dregs made him grimace. “No, it’s just that Chloe’s arrival is really bad timing.”
“And that’s not her fault.”
“Which brings me back to my original point. Zurie is the cause, and part of me wonders if she’s purposely pushing my buttons.”
“Oh, please, you know Zurie isn’t into wasting time cooking up petty bull crap. She’s just really adamant about doing things her way, but deep down, she means well. Most of all, she wants the best for Tillbridge.”
“The best thing for Tillbridge is for her to be more open to suggestions about running it.”
“I know, but...” Rina shrugged. “All I can say is give her time.” She stood and picked up his empty mug.
Her walking with a barely perceptible limp to the coffee maker stalled his response. Undoubtedly, she’d been up before dawn overseeing breakfast prep at her café. She needed to rest her knee, but if he said that, Rina would only remind him of how he’d kept riding bulls through his own sometimes agonizing injuries.
For him there was no shame in popping a couple of pain relievers and taking a pause, even now when old aches revisited him on chilly days. But Rina never admitted when she was hurting, and having someone else notice seemed to make her think people saw her as helpless or weak.
Unable to accept her waiting on him, he got up and went to her.
Despite the discomfort she was feeling, as she handed him the mug, she gave him an empathetic smile. “I know you’re frustrated with Zurie right now, but why torture yourself? In less than a couple of months, you’ll have what you wanted.”
What he’d worked two years to get from Zurie—ownership in Tillbridge.
After Zurie had succeeded in getting his father’s share of the stable from Erica, he’d offered to buy it from Zurie. She could have sold it directly to him, but she’d chosen to follow the bylaw she’d instituted, right after the Erica inheritance incident, making two successive years of management experience as a requirement before being eligible for ownership in Tillbridge. Two years. The amount of time wasn’t lost on him. She was upset at him and it was clearly a loyalty test. But to get what he wanted, he’d had no choice but to set aside his disappointment, take the stable manager position she’d offered him and prove his worthiness, as an employee.
Honestly, if the situation had been turned around, and he’d been in her shoes, believing what she thought about him, he might have done the same.
Tristan looked to Rina and the hopefulness for the future that he saw in her eyes unearthed a bit of sadness inside of him. “Sure, soon I’ll have part ownership in Tillbridge, but signatures on a legal document won’t magically transform my relationship with Zurie. As long as she thinks I don’t love this place as much as the two of you do, she’ll doubt my every move.”
Rina laid her hand on his. “Someday, she’ll see it, but that definitely won’t happen if you give her a reason to think that way. In the past two years, you’ve never failed to complete a task she’s given you. Don’t start now.”
He followed Rina’s gaze to the window where she glanced at Chloe sitting at one of the picnic tables
probably enjoying his dessert. Ownership in Tillbridge was the priority, and right now, that included keeping her out of trouble. But mentally, he was too damn tired to sort out what to do with Chloe now. If she liked working in the food van, she could stay there until he got back to her next week, like he’d planned.
Tristan wrapped an arm around Rina’s shoulders prompting her to lean against him as he gave her a squeeze. “You’re right. Now isn’t the time to give Zurie a reason to kick me out.”
“Kick you out?” Rina swatted his chest. “Yeah, right. You’re here forever with the rest of us and you know it. Team Tillbridge, forever.”
Team Tillbridge. That’s what Uncle Mathew used to say to them when they were kids right before they were about to dig in together to do things like shovel snow on the property, clean the stable from top to bottom or compete in a rodeo event. He’d never lost sight of what was important—family and Tillbridge Stable. Unfortunately, his father had.
Out of everyone, Rina was the only one who didn’t seem to blame him for the mess his father’s decision had caused. He did.
His rift with Jacob, getting written out of his will, breaking his promise to Zurie, possibly even his father’s death might not have happened so soon if he hadn’t made the one mistake that had put the wheels in motion.
He’d brought Erica home with him to Tillbridge.
Chapter Eight
Chloe adjusted the towels she’d folded into the shape of a horse and set it next to the VIP basket in the middle of the bed. After multiple attempts, she’d finally gotten the hang of it. Sort of. At least now the folded towel resembled a cute creature instead of a sad-looking blob. “How’s that?”
“Great.” Deanna, the housekeeping supervisor, smiled at her from the other side of the bed. “All that’s left now is dusting and vacuuming.” The middle-aged redhead plumped the white pillows against the padded beige headboard for the third time, straightened the basket, then adjusted the white pleated lamp shade on the wall lamp above the right-hand bedside table. She reminded Chloe of a constantly moving hummingbird. “I’m going to walk through the rest of the cottage to see what needs to be done.”
“I’ll keep going in here.” Chloe ran a duster over the bedside table and the dresser across from the bed that was underneath a flat screen television.
Lena would have a fit if she found out that after their talk three days ago, she still wasn’t hanging out in the stable with the horses. But like she’d told Lena, pitching in at the restaurant, and now with housekeeping in the cleaning of the guesthouse and cottages, was actually helping her cause.
Chloe finished dusting and moved on to the one housekeeping task she hated—vacuuming. And just like at her apartment, somehow, she managed to get the cord tangled and stuck under the legs of the furniture.
She definitely wouldn’t be doing the most boring housekeeping chore on earth if she didn’t owe Deanna. When Philippa had mentioned to Deanna that Chloe needed to learn about horses, Deanna had contacted Adam. Like more than a few of the staff at the stable, they were related. He was her nephew. Now Chloe was all set up to spend time with Adam on his days off and after his shifts to learn more about horses. Once that arrangement had been made, how could she not volunteer that morning when Deanna asked for help?
But, honestly, it wasn’t just about returning Deanna’s favor. The staff had started to treat her like one of the group and it felt nice. A few of them had even invited her to happy hour that night to celebrate the end of the workweek. No, going out with them for drinks wasn’t providing specific information about the Tillbridge operation, but she appreciated them including her. She was starting to gain their respect. And she’d done it without Tristan.
Chloe turned off the vacuum as Deanna came back into the bedroom. “What’s next?”
“You just need to tidy up the kitchen and the living room. After that, you can move on to the other five cottages. I’m going back to the guesthouse.”
“Wait. You want me to finish five more cottages on my own—but I’m still getting the hang of things.”
“Don’t panic.” Deanna laughed. “You’ve done great so far, and you have plenty of time to get it done. Check-in for the cottages isn’t until two, and that’s in six hours. And you don’t have to clean the last cottage, just stock the master bath with a week’s worth of fresh towels.” She handed Chloe a folded map. “I marked it so you’ll know which one it is.” Deanna gave her a reassuring smile before she walked out. “Call or give a shout on the radio if something comes up.”
“Okay.” Chloe spoke to the empty room as she tucked the map in the back pocket of her jeans.
Following the instructions Deanna had given her, as well as double-checking the housekeeping checklist, she continued cleaning her way forward up the hall to the guest bedroom and bath. Then she tackled the small kitchen and dining room, along with the living room before vacuuming her way out the door.
Close to one in the afternoon, she finished the fourth cottage. For an amateur, with only a few hours of experience, she’d done okay, and with more practice, she’d be able to do it perfectly. But she wouldn’t trade working in the van for housekeeping. She’d missed talking to everyone, especially Adam, Blake and Gloria...and annoying Tristan.
He’d been out of the office the second day she’d worked in the food van. Yesterday, he’d walked to the van as if expecting, no hoping, not to see her there, then he’d ordered lunch with as few words as possible. She’d handed him his food, including a slice of lemon pie before he’d asked for it, and he’d gone back to his office. She could only imagine his reaction once he found out about her arrangement with Adam. But like Lena had reminded her, she had a larger objective that didn’t include what Tristan thought about her. She couldn’t allow him or his unwillingness to help to become a distraction.
Wanting to stretch her legs without lugging around the large wheeled cleaning cart filled with supplies, Chloe grabbed four sets of beige towels and walked down the main path. The last cottage was at the end of an offshoot to the left.
Using a master key card, she opened the door to a different setup than the other cottages. In place of carpeting, polished wood floors expanded throughout the space and cream window shades versus curtains hung partially down over the three front windows. The standard decor of beige living room furniture had been replaced with a buttery soft-looking brown leather couch and fabric-upholstered side chairs that formed a seating area around a glass-topped wood coffee table.
Ahead of her, in the one-wall kitchen, a pottery vase filled with kitchen utensils sat on the counter next to the stove where an emerald dish towel hung from the handle of the oven. Notes hung on the refrigerator door. All homey touches. The desk with a laptop and papers on top, pushed against the wall in the space normally designated as the dining area, confirmed someone lived there on a more permanent basis.
She went down a short beige carpeted hallway to the left between the living room and the kitchen. Walking past a closed door on the left, and a small bathroom on the right, she headed straight into the master bedroom. A king-size bed covered by a dove-gray comforter and slate-colored pillows dominated the space, and a faint woodsy scent hung in the air.
She’d encountered it before but where?
A black cowboy hat and silver-framed photos sat on a wood dresser on the wall near the footboard of the bed. All she had to do was walk over, take a peek, and find out the answer. No. That was snooping. She was just supposed to drop off fresh towels, pick up the used ones and leave.
Chloe marched straight into the connecting bathroom. She set the towels on the white marble counter next to a small round tin of shaving soap and a shaving brush, intending to pick up the plastic bag of laundry on the floor near the corner shower and leave. But as if something had given them an invisible nudge, the towels toppled, knocking the tin into the sink.
After righting the stack, she pick
ed up the small round container that had popped open. Most guys just used shaving cream in a can. Unable to resist, she lifted it to her nose and breathed in the clean wonderful smell reminiscent of rich earth, fresh pine...and cooling summer rain. It was definitely Tristan’s scent.
The sound of a door opening and closing at the rear of the cottage echoed.
Was that Deanna coming to check on her?
She put the closed tin next to the shaving brush. Noticing several slivers of soap dotting the sink, she turned on the water. Using her hand to push them toward the drain, she rinsed them away.
Tristan’s voice drifted down the hall. “I didn’t forget about the meeting. I just got back from the new gate install in the south pasture. I need to clean up and change.”
Shit! After double-checking that everything was in its place, Chloe hurriedly picked up the bag of dirty towels. She walked out the bedroom...just in time to witness him unbuttoning his navy shirt as he came out of the kitchen. The gradual reveal of his defined chest took precedence over moving her feet. Wow. He was all kinds of droolworthy, and she was ogling him...making that all kinds of wrong.
Giving herself a mental shake, she avoided looking at him and hurried toward the front door. “Towels.” His one-word way of communicating had definitely rubbed off on her.
Just as she reached for the knob, he called out. “You dropped something.”
She faced him. He was close. Close enough for her to breathe in the faint smell of the woodsy soap now pleasingly mixed with a hint of hardworking man. Near enough to cause her heart to race a thousand and one beats per minute as she got a good look at his defined chest. His partially unbuttoned shirt revealed a tempting peek at the first row of what promised to be endless chiseled abs.
It took effort to force her attention on the property map in his hand. “Oh. It slipped out of my pocket.” She took hold of it.
But Tristan wouldn’t let go. A questioning expression came over his face as he sniffed the air.
