by Sabrina York
I watched it change to 10:01 with a snap.
I sucked in a breath and muttered through my gritted teeth, “Smile, everyone.”
“Smiling,” Coop called from the far end of the line. Too far for me to sear him with a glare without hitting anyone else. And the guests would be here any second. So I had to keep that searing glare to myself, which, as we all know, causes constipation.
By 10:05, I knew they’d been delayed. By 10:15 I’d reached Miranda Givens, Executive Secretary to Tommy Astro, who was Farley Weaver’s manager. According to Miranda, the party had been delayed and, oh dear, had no one called?
They would, apparently, be arriving at noon instead, and expected a full lunch to be prepared upon arrival. Everything else was on schedule, including the massages at 3:00 pm.
All right. Fine. I released the staff back to their duties—and in Coop’s case, back to hanging around and getting in the way. Noel was not happy about the change in the meal schedule and spoke about it rather vociferously. In French. I figured as long as he was speaking French it wasn’t something I needed to worry about, so I walked away.
Now that we had a little extra time, we could afford to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. I took the team with me on a walk-through of each day, pausing in every room to discuss planned activities and talk about potential issues or requests. I didn’t invite Coop along, because I really didn’t want him to come, but he tagged along anyway. Every once in a while I’d see him grin for no reason. It made me want to throttle him, but, with great effort, I was able to remain professional and remote.
We finished the walkthrough about fifteen minutes before the guests were to arrive at noon, so everyone could change from their work clothes back into their formals again. The formals were expensive, so we only wore them for welcomes, departures, and fancy events. But just as I was letting everyone go to change, my cell buzzed. On instinct, I stopped them from leaving with a lifted finger.
And yeah. It was Miranda on the phone. “Hey, Valerie?” she said.
“Victoria.”
“Yes, hon. Just wanted to let you know we’re delayed again. But we will definitely be there by 3:00 pm for massages, yes?”
“Absolutely. Thank you for letting me know. See you at three.”
The staff blew out a joint sigh. “Delayed again?” Olivia said with a pout.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get to meet Farley,” I told her. Though I knew, after this Visit, she might never want to see Farley’s face again. That happened sometimes when people met their idols. “Let’s reset to three, people.”
Everyone nodded and wandered off. Everyone but Noel. “Reset to three?” he said. “Just ’ow do I reset to three? I have ze foie gras. I have ze caviar. I have ze little chocolate straws that I ’ave made myself.”
“Please, Noel,” I said setting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do your best. We’re counting on you.” We were. I might not have done this job a decade, but I still remembered that the food had a tremendous amount to do with the size of the tip at the end of the Visit.
* * *
When the guests finally arrived, I was giving a lesson in Silver Service in the great room. No one had called, so we hadn’t expected them at 2:45.
They just appeared.
Oh, lordy, did they. They came in, in a herd. A cacophony of sounds, sights, and colors and outfits that only the super-rich could pull off with a straight face. I ignored the eccentricities—and the peacock feathers—threw back my shoulders, and extended my hand to Farley Weaver, who was listed as the primary client on my paperwork.
Her bio said she was nearly nineteen, but she seemed younger because she was so petite. Also, her outfit looked like it had been selected on a dare. And then there was the sullen expression on her face. It felt odd, approaching a kid while, in this flock of curious creatures, there were at least three other adults. But that’s the way it goes in Hospitality. Mine is not to question why. Mine is to grit mine teeth and smile. And later, cash mine checks.
“I’m Victoria Walker,” I said cheerily, “I’m your Visit Manager this week. My staff and I are pleased to be at your service. Welcome to Eden’s Mistletoe Lodge at Shannon Lake.”
The child did not seem inclined to take my hand, so I let it fall, and smiled even more brightly. “Would you like a tour?”
“I’m hungry,” someone said from the back.
Her highness made a face. “Yeah. What do you got to eat?”
Lovely. Farley was so…refined.
“Our chef has prepared a cold lunch.” He had prepared a warm one, but no one had been here to eat it. Except the staff, thank you very much.
“Whatever. Bring it in here.” Farley pulled on her headphones and pushed past me into the great room. Ignoring absolutely everybody else, she flopped onto one of the grand sofas, turned up the volume and closed her eyes.
I waved at Olivia and Wren, who were on point and ready to bring in the cold lunch and beverages. The teens in the party swarmed the platters, even before they’d set them down, but the adults remained in the foyer with Noel, Ken Nora, Coop, and me.
“Howdy.”
I blinked as a deep bass thrummed around me. Then I turned and locked gazes with a really hot cowboy.
“Howdy,” I said, responding as he offered to shake my hand. Imagine that. Civility. In this day and age. “How do you do?”
“I’m Whit,” he said in a tone that made clear he expected I’d heard of him.
“Of course. Of course. So nice to have you here.”
“I’m that one’s pa.” He squinted his eyes and pointed at Farley. “So, as a good old fashioned Southern gentleman, it’s incumbent upon me to apologize, in advance, for anything she might say or do.” He tipped his hat. “She’s still learning to tame the ego, you know?”
Oh yeah. I’d already figured that out. It must be hard to be a teen superstar and remember to be humble. “She’s young. She’ll come along.”
“I reckon she will. Well, let me do the introductions…” He went on to point at everyone in his party and call out their names and how they were all connected, even though they’d all scattered. I did a pretty good job of keeping up.
Boy howdy. Whit Weaver was a hot cowboy, from the top of his Stetson to the tip of his roach-killer boots. Of that, there was no doubt. But with the very sexy Mr. Weaver came his (also very sexy) girlfriend, Sabine. Girl being the operative word. She wasn’t Farley’s age, but barely. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been attracted to men who are attracted to way-too-young women. So yeah. No temptation there.
In addition to Whit and Sabine, the group consisted of three other adults—including Carmella Smith, Jamison’s mother; Tommy Astro, Farley’s manager; and Tommy’s executive secretary, Miranda Givens—as well as a bunch of late-model teenagers. As best I could tell, there was Farley and Jamison—the famous couple featured in every supermarket tabloid—and their posses. Jamison’s friends included two young trouble makers named Dion Hastings and Bobby Ebersol. Neither was old enough to drink, but I noticed them eyeing the liquor cabinet.
Farley had her royal court too—composed of princesses, I had to imagine, because they were both wearing tiaras. Judging from their entitled expressions, Tressa and Keiko would be trouble too, I could feel it in my bones. The third member of Farley’s posse was a young man with very artistic eye makeup and a dramatic personality, named Jaxon. Then, there was Farley’s (gluten-free) little sister, Tania. And finally, Eliza.
I wasn’t sure what to make of Eliza, Farley’s cousin, who appeared to be cast as Cinderella in this fairy-tale fantasy, judging from her ordinary appearance and the undeniable fact that she was carrying Farley’s purse and soda. And her Chihuahua. Not to mention, she had that ubiquitous smudge on her cheek. Cinderellas always have smudges on their cheeks, don’t they? I think it’s required.
When I counted them up, there were nine young adults in the party. Was it only nine? It seemed like more. Point being, there were a lot of teens. A lot.
I guess he missed the dig completely, considering he winked at me as he stepped forward to shake hands.
“You’re not the Cameron Cooper? The stuntman? From the movies?” Gosh, Tommy Astro really knew his movie stuntmen. Also, Coop was a stuntman?
“The very one.”
“Oh my God. This is great! We have a real stuntman teaching us to mountain surf.”
“Right.” Coop nodded. “We have three adventures planned. Tomorrow, we’re taking the helicopters to the mountains to do some snow surfing. Then, on the 24th, we’ll have some black diamond skiing. We also have snowmobiles coming in. There are some great runs around here.”
“That sounds awesome.” And yeah. Tommy had yet to release Coop’s hand.
“We hope you enjoy it,” he said, wiggling his fingers a little.
“And anything you want or need,” I added, before I tore Coop away from his new-found-fan, “do not hesitate to ask. The staff will bring up your luggage straight away.”
With a nod to my minions, they all flowed back to their stations. Those who were heading to the staff lodge melted into the scenery and slipped out the back door. It was a ballet of subtle perfection.
I was, in that moment, so proud.
Jed, however, seemed to have forgotten what to do and kind of just stood there.
I thought about it for a minute and realized having someone just standing there—ostensibly awaiting a command—wasn’t such a bad idea. It’s a wonder I’d never thought of it before. So, when Coop and I made our way into the scenery as well, I just left him there.
Eventually, he’d realize he was responsible for the luggage.
“Thanks for saving me,” Coop said, as we walked through the dark guest kitchen. Noel had shut down hours ago.
“Your fault,” I snorted, “for being an almost movie star.”
“Almost?”
I grinned at his outrage. “Don’t hate me, hate the system.”
The wind stole my breath when I opened the outer door. But I loved the way it whipped through my hair. Like a child, I closed my eyes and twirled, catching snowflakes with my tongue. If course, I fell butt first into a drift, but I didn’t care. I laughed.
Coop smiled as he reached down to help me up, but I could tell, there was a chuckle pent up in there too. He heaved me up with a tremendous groan, which I did not appreciate.
As soon as I was on my feet, I whirled to face him. “Don’t.”
“What?” he asked.
I cleared my throat of bile. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
He winced. His shoulders dropped. His expression shrank. “Make fun of you, Vic? I wouldn’t. It would break my heart if you thought that.”
“You made a very loud noise when you helped me up.” I made sure to enunciate those three words.
“I was just joking.” He moved to hug me, then stopped. He paled. Scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I— That is not what I meant.”
Damn. I hated seeing moisture clinging to his lashes. But I had to speak my truth. I’d come too far on my personal journey to stop now. Neither of us would want that.
I drew in a fortifying breath. “People don’t tease me about that anymore. I don’t allow it.”
He set one hand on either side of my face, holding me gently. “People don’t tease you about what, Vic?”
Why did he seem genuinely confused? Wasn’t it right before his eyes?
Granted, he’d only known me for one summer, a long time ago, and it had been one of my skinnier summers, if the photo album held true. Could he not have known?
I set my hands on his. “I’m sorry. I should explain.”
“Okay.” He held my gaze.
“When I was a kid, I was teased because I was chubby. It didn’t get better as I grew up. I’ve always struggled with my weight.”
He looked me up and down. “What’s wrong with your weight?”
Seriously? “Do you live in this society?”
“Listen, if you’re healthy and happy—”
“Yes. That’s what they say. But my point is, I struggled with this a long time and then I realized I was never going to win, because I was fighting on the wrong battlefield. My happiness never depended on my weight. It depended on loving myself no matter what.”
Yes. I realize I was starting to sound as though I should burst into song like a Disney princess or something, but it was true. Once I really liked myself, then loved myself, it was easy to see what made me happy, and what did not. I simply no longer tolerated things that made me unhappy.
Coop’s eyes warmed as he took a step closer, but I held him up with a finger.
“Not done yet. There’s more,” I said. “Once I became happy in my own skin—as it were—I found it much easier to stand up for myself. And that is what I am doing now. I’m letting you know this is a sensitive issue for me, and very politely asking you not to make fun of me about it, in any way shape or form, because I respect you, and I would be disappointed if you did not respect me too.”
His smile faded, but not in a bad way. Maybe because there was still a smile in his eyes. “I thank you for letting me know this is a sensitive issue for you. I very humbly apologize for any offense, which I assure you, was unintended. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He took my arm as we resumed our walk toward the shrubbery. “But to be perfectly honest?”
“Yeah?”
“I kinda like a woman with curves.” His breath was warm in my ear.
I pushed him away with a laugh. “Oh, stop.”
“I’m serious.”
Before I knew what happened, he’d pulled me into his arms and—froze. Then, he very primly released me and primly kissed my nose. “I should mention, I do find you very attractive.”
I blew out a frosty gust of a breath. “I thought we had this conversation. You know? About working together?”
“We did. But during that conversation, I neglected to mention that I find you extremely attractive too— That was what you said, right? You found me extremely attractive but—”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say extremely—”
“But you wanted a raincheck—”
“I never said raincheck!”
“For next week.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Oh, you definitely said next week.”
“I think you said next week.”
His eyes glinted. “What? Have you changed your mind? Ready to give it a go now? Just say the word.” He held out his arms in welcome. The thought of what that welcome could mean made a warm slurry swirl in my gut.
Damn, he was tempting.
“I have to work,” I hissed at him. And then, in a snippy tone, “And you have snow on your head. It looks like dandruff.”
In response, he shook said snow all over me.
Don’t you hate it when you’re annoyed at someone, and then the person you’re annoyed at makes you laugh?
Yeah. Me too.
Chapter Five
Coop and I came into the staff kitchen together, and though this issue really wasn’t resolved between us, we could hardly continue now, because Mungo and Christie were there. And Mason. Heaven forbid I forget to mention him, He Who Has an Unnatural Attraction to my Crotch.
I deftly avoided that cold snout and headed to the stove. While my water for tea was boiling, Coop and his team headed outside to go through their gear for tom
orrow. I watched him go with a conflicted heart.
On the one hand, it was great to see him again, play with him again. But on the other hand, he scared me. He’d hurt me before. And now, the way I was feeling? I knew he could do it again, if I let him. I just couldn’t let him.
I’d barely had time to take a sip of my tea when Jed called me on the radio—and, yay! He was using his radio!—to let me know the massage people were here. With a grunt, I whirled back around and headed for the guest house again. This time, I took the path around to the front entrance so I could brief the masseurs on the guests before they went inside. I passed Coop and his team, straightening out the riggings, and nodded to them, but I could see the masseurs unloading their tables and I headed straight over.
Even as I was going through what I wanted to say in my head, I stopped short. So short I almost bit my tongue.
Well, hell.
I should have known Carlo would be one of the masseurs. We’d worked together on a lot of corporate events up here in the Northwest. He was a little oily for my taste, and a bit too handsy, but I’ve heard he gives a great massage. Still, I’d learned to avoid him when possible. He had a tendency to cling. Like a limpet.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up and he jogged over and he pulled me into a hug—ick—and whispered in my ear, “After this. You and me. Alone. Together. Okay?”
Right. As though I didn’t already have enough to do.
I nearly went off on him—you know, in a bad way—but then I caught Cooper’s attention on moi, his dark frown at the sight of me in another man’s arms, and I decided to milk it a little. Just a little. Just for fun I gave Carlo an extra hug.
What could go wrong?
Well, I forgot one thing. I forgot how some men simply cannot receive any encouragement from a woman whatsoever. I’m talking beyond Ice-Princess frigidity, ladies. I totally blew it with that responding hug. I’d—egads—encouraged him. As a result, Carlo skulked around looking for me the rest of the afternoon. It took all my energy to avoid him.
And the next time I saw Coop, he wasn’t frowning. He was snickering.
