He cocked his head. “You’re not on company time. This is dinner.”
“I plan to work after.”
“If you’re going to live on property, you’ll have to give yourself downtime,” he said, selecting a bottle of red wine and bringing it to the table with a corkscrew. “Working around the clock isn’t healthy.”
Jenna quickly stacked the papers onto her laptop and set it on the wide window ledge for later.
“I will once I get a little further along,” she said, snatching the unopened wine bottle from his hands and stowing it back in its original spot. “This is Mr. Miller’s wine. I’ll add wine to the shopping list for next time, if you want it.”
He let out an extended breath. “I’d rather have a beer anyway,” he said tersely as he grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator and slammed it onto the table.
Jenna jumped. Must he be so surly all the time? It was becoming more and more difficult trying to be pleasant to him. She’d give it another shot, however. He had to thaw out eventually. Perhaps thaw wasn’t quite the right word. He simmered underneath the surface, ready to boil over at any provocation. Well, she’d worked hard on dinner, and she was going to try to get through this without succumbing to heartburn medication from his irritability.
“I hope you enjoy dinner,” she said, taking a seat across from him.
His stare was flat. “Thank you for making it.”
“Would you like salad?” she asked, lifting the bowl to pass.
“Thank you,” he said again, taking the bowl and depositing a generous serving on his plate before returning it to her.
At least he was saying thank you. It’s an easy sentiment to forget when you have boorish manners.
* * *
After Jenna’s wine pronouncement that nearly tipped him over the edge, Greyson was at least able to remain civil enough to her during the salad course. It was difficult, but he could see she was trying to be cordial even if she didn’t want to be. Every time she looked at him, he thought she was going to reach out and smack him. But then her face would smooth and she would ask about the mansion or something equally neutral.
It was tedious and mind-numbing. All he wanted to do was eat and then sleep. The way this conversation was going, he’d be sleeping in his salad in no time.
“Would you care for lasagna now?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Greyson answered, holding his plate out while she scooped a large square piece. “Thank you,” he said again and deposited the plate in front of him. Was that all he was going to say for the rest of the night? Thank you?
This was becoming painful, he thought. He knew it was partially his fault that there was a wide, jagged ridge between them. If he wanted to get through dinner without falling asleep or strangling her, he had to somehow bridge the gap.
“I see you’re putting your hospitality skills to use,” Greyson said, attempting a smile.
“Do you mean dinner?”
“No, but it is good,” he said. “I meant the towel dog you left on the bed.”
“I only placed one on Mr. Miller’s bed,” she said, confused.
Oh, God. Here we go with the Mr. Miller-ing again. “I know. I thought it was cute.”
“What were you doing in his room?”
“Showering.”
Her mouth gaped open, which wasn’t a very good look for her. Although, neither was her pinched face, which happened to be her next expression as she scowled at him.
“There are a dozen or more bathrooms in the house,” she complained. “Why would you shower in there?”
Yet another moment arrived when he should have probably set the record straight, but she was so frosty and uppity that he felt the perverse need to lock horns.
“Because that’s my favorite shower,” he said, settling back to watch her bluster.
“You are not allowed to shower in Mr. Miller’s room,” she stated.
“Really?”
“Really!” she exclaimed.
Greyson stood with his hands fisted on the table, glaring down at Jenna. “I think you should mind your own business.”
“This is my business!” she said, standing to mirror his stance, glaring just as fiercely.
“Your business is to run the bed and breakfast, not to tell me where to shower,” he gritted.
“This property is now under my management. You had best get that through your head. You will not shower in Mr. Miller’s room,” she stated again. “Do we have an agreement, or do I have to go above your head?”
Greyson’s lips curled. “Do your worst,” he said, snatching his plate of lasagna and his beer before stalking out of the kitchen.
He stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door closed. He tossed the plate on the side table, too infuriated to eat what looked and smelled like a great-tasting dinner. But he knew it’d only taste like ash in his mouth.
He should have told her, but he’d be damned if he would now.
* * *
Jenna woke up late the next morning and therefore got a late start on the day. She wasn’t going to feel guilty. At least that’s what she told herself. The little voice in her head, on the other hand, was hard to ignore and was telling her it wasn’t a good idea to sleep late being so new to the job. But, she had spent a good chunk of the evening tackling the list. She’d made some progress although she still didn’t have a name for the company. Instead, she had filed papers with Mr. Miller’s name and the company’s name as “to be determined.” It would at least get the ball rolling.
She had also stayed awake to see if Mr. Miller would ever show. He hadn’t. She had a strong urge to peek into his room to see if he had somehow snuck past her. She didn’t. The last thing Jenna needed was to accidently wake him up and ultimately meet him for the first time in his bedroom. And, with her luck, he’d be the kind of man to sleep naked. No, she wasn’t going into his room again.
Jenna quickly showered and dressed for the day. She picked up her laptop from the nightstand and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Placing the laptop on the table, she looked out the window. The gardener was planting more hedges in the middle of the yard. Even though she still didn’t understand his plan, that’s not what gave her pause. There was a pretty blonde sitting near him on the grass.
Jenna sighed. She was definitely going to have to have a talk with him. He couldn’t have friends — and now a girlfriend — visit him while on company time. It’s just not done. That added another concern. Did the blonde stay overnight on property with him?
She couldn’t say for sure. When he had come to dinner the previous night, he took off almost immediately with a plate of food and a scowl on his face. Jenna knew why. She was all for him taking a shower —– he needed it desperately — but not in Mr. Miller’s room. There were at least a dozen bathrooms that she knew of, probably more. He could choose a different one. Well, needless to say he hadn’t been very receptive and stormed off. It brought up another question. Was there a housekeeper? Jenna couldn’t find a speck of dust, so someone had to clean the place. She doubted it was Mr. Miller or Mr. Gardener — that was what she’d started referring to him as, since she still didn’t know his name.
A horrible fail on her part.
Jenna sighed. Clearly, she and Mr. Gardener were going to have to sit down and talk. First, she was going to find out a little bit more about the blonde. Then she would address a list of concerns with Mr. Miller.
Jenna stepped out into the sunshine and took a deep breath. She marched across the lawn toward the couple. The blonde looked up and saw Jenna heading her way. She smiled.
At least she seemed pleasant and was prettily made up, Jenna thought. The complete opposite of her grizzly, earth-layered boyfriend.
The energetic blonde bounced up from her spot on the grass and reached out to shake Jenna’s hand.
“You must be Jenna,” she said. Her big blue eyes were filled with bubbly warmth. “Greyson’s told me so much about you. I’m Mya.”
Her wo
rds nearly knocked Jenna back a step. Mya knew Mr. Miller? And he told Mya about her? Odd, considering he hadn’t taken a minute to even introduce himself.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mya,” Jenna said. “When did you speak with Mr. Miller?”
Mya tilted her head to the side with a questioning look. “Today.”
“I’ve been trying to find him,” Jenna said, scanning the landscape to see if she could spot him. “Where did you see him last?”
“Right here,” she answered with the same questioning look.
“Darn. We keep missing each other. I’d better go find him,” Jenna said, turning to head back to the house. “It was nice to meet you.”
Dammit!
If she hadn’t slept in, she wouldn’t have missed him.
Her failures were starting to accumulate and it was only her second day on the job.
She wanted to cry.
Chapter 4
Mya watched Jenna stalk toward the house. “That was weird.”
Greyson couldn’t help but smile at Mya, who was as flummoxed by Jenna as he was. Mya turned to him with a peculiar look.
“Greyson Miller,” Mya scolded, “what did you do?”
He put his palms up in defense. “Nothing.”
“Then why doesn’t she know that you’re Greyson.”
“When she arrived yesterday she assumed that I was the gardener.”
“And you didn’t set her straight?” she asked with the same scolding tone, which was completely at odds with her naturally sweet disposition.
“I was going to,” he said and then gave a small shrug. “And then I gave up. Let her believe what she wants. I only want to focus on the garden. So, when it comes right down to it, I am the gardener.”
“She seems quite determined to find you.”
“She’ll be in for a long wait.”
“But how will you work together? Doesn’t she have questions?”
“She’s been emailing me.”
“Greyson, you have to tell her.”
“No, I don’t. She’s nothing but trouble. I should’ve just sold the place as is.”
Mya cocked her head to the side, pity reflecting in her eyes. “How are you?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking,” Mya stated.
“You’re wondering how I’m surviving with a broken heart.”
Mya’s mouth twisted. “Okay, so you might know.”
Greyson grinned at her confession and then picked up a hedge, lifting it from its pot. “I’m okay,” he said. When Mya didn’t look convinced, he continued, “I think about her often, but it doesn’t hurt like before. In fact, I’ve been thinking.” He placed the hedge in the hole and began covering the roots with soil.
“And?” Mya prompted when he didn’t continue.
“She’s happy.”
“I know that, silly! But that doesn’t tell me how you are.”
“I’m accepting it. I’d still like to punch Caleb, but I think that’s only because he took what I perceived as mine. Nadia was never mine, and it was my fault. If I had put her before work like I should have, things may have been different.”
It made him wonder why he hadn’t. Why didn’t he push work aside to be with her? When he finally had, it was too late. Maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe a life with her wasn’t meant to be. That didn’t make it any less painful, but it did allow him to accept it and begin to move on. He just had to finish this ridiculously huge, ten-acre fantasy garden.
The secret alcove was nearly complete, and the hedge maze was on its way. In a good two months he could close this chapter and start a new one. Perhaps he could track his brother Ian down and travel with him for a while. Ian was always on an adventure, and it was time that Greyson went on one too.
“Greyson!”
Greyson looked up to find Mya standing with her hands on her hips. “What?”
“I was talking, and you weren’t paying attention.”
“Were you talking about clothes again?” Greyson asked. “You know I never listen when you talk about clothes.”
Mya huffed, but a twinkle danced in her eye. “No. I was talking about David.”
“What about David?”
“He needs a night out,” Mya stated. “He’s driving me crazy.”
“Remy said the same thing,” Greyson said. “He said you were busy planning the nursery.”
“I am. Frankie and Mark have been a big help designing it.”
“We’re planning on taking him out on Friday. I’m letting David stew for a day or two.”
“You’re heartless,” Mya teased.
“Remy said something similar. Will it help if I call David today and let him know?”
Mya nodded. “Please! And if you can think of any other reasons to get him out of the house . . .”
“Already trying to get rid of your husband?” Greyson asked, amused. “You just got him home a few months ago.”
David Miller, Mya’s husband, had left on an assignment two years ago without a word. No one knew if he was dead or alive. Due to the secrecy of his mission, he couldn’t reach out to his family. He only recently returned home and had been living the domestic life ever since. “Domestic life” seemed to be a work in progress.
“You know I’m happy to have my husband home. I think he’s just nervous about becoming a dad. And with all the changes, and the nursery, I think he really needs a guy’s night with you and Remy.”
“I promise I’ll call him this afternoon.”
Greyson’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands off on his jeans and took out his phone, only to wish he hadn’t. An email from Ms. Newman was waiting for him.
“What’s wrong?” Mya asked.
“Another one of Jenna’s emails.”
“What does it say?”
“Mr. Miller,” Greyson read, “I’m sorry I missed you this morning. I had hoped we could have met by now. Since we keep missing each other, I will have to lay the matter out by email. I had hoped to avoid that since it requires a frank discussion about your staff, particularly your gardener.” Greyson groaned.
“Keep reading,” Mya urged, stifling a giggle.
“While the gardener and I seem to have started off on the wrong foot, it doesn’t excuse his lack of work ethic. For instance, he uses his cell phone quite frequently during working hours. He has a tendency to be abrupt to the point of rudeness. Also, he has his friends over on company time. I realize you probably know since you talked with her this morning, but his girlfriend is on-site right now.”
Mya squeaked. “Does she mean me?”
Greyson nodded with a chuckle, though he felt like strangling his phone. He continued reading, “Not only all of that, but he’s planting hedges in the middle of the yard. Surely this must be a mistake, but he refuses to listen to me. If we could sit down and discuss this problem, along with a few other questions I have, I would appreciate it.”
“She doesn’t sound as if she likes you very much,” Mya said with another giggle. “I’m surprised she didn’t add that you were dirty on top of it.”
“She did,” Greyson muttered.
Mya squealed and snatched the phone to read, “I have come up with a design for uniforms. As soon as it can be arranged, I would like for the gardener to begin wearing it. While the mansion is magnificent, he is an eyesore.”
Mya’s eyes popped open wide before she peeled with laughter.
“It’s not that funny,” Greyson said, swiping the phone back and shoving it into his pocket.
“But it is,” Mya said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are the most handsome man I have ever met, excluding David, of course,” she added quickly. “Women fall head over heels for you every time you enter a room.”
“Feel free to tell her that,” Greyson said, attacking the ground with the shovel.
“She can’t see it.
You’re covered in dirt and have an overgrown beard. I don’t blame her for mistaking you for the gardener.”
Greyson stopped digging and leaned on the shovel. “How am I supposed to work in the yard all day and not get dirty? It seems to me that she should be happy I’m dirty because it means I’m accomplishing things. And what do I care if no one likes my beard? I actually like walking into a store without getting hit on. I think I’ll keep the beard indefinitely.”
Mya grinned. “You’re letting her get under your skin. You could clear this up just by letting her know who you are. She’s going to find out eventually.”
Greyson snorted. “I doubt she’ll figure it out. I took a shower in my own bathroom and she had the nerve to yell at me for using ‘Mr. Miller’s’ shower. I’m beginning to wonder who she imagines this hallowed Mr. Miller is. It’s definitely not me because she’s completely blind to the obvious.”
“How are you going to reply to the email?”
“I don’t know,” Greyson said, though a devilish smile brewed. “But I have a growing urge to tell her to fire the gardener.”
“You wouldn’t,” Mya gasped.
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Unfortunately, I think you might. You know she’d do it, right? What would you do then?”
“Ah, but she doesn’t have the experience under her belt to deal with a horrible employee like me. I can guarantee she has never had to fire an employee before. Why not start with me?”
Mya shook her head. “Don’t taunt her. She’s no match for you, and you know it.”
“Don’t feel sorry for the little drill sergeant. I’m sure she can take as good as she delivers. And I’m sick of doing all the taking.”
Mya paled. She bent over and heaved into one of the holes Greyson was digging. He glanced down at the mess nonplussed.
“You still have morning sickness, I see,” he said calmly, tossing a layer of soil on top of her mess. “We’ll consider that fertilizer.”
“It’s around-the-clock sickness,” Mya said miserably.
Greyson let the shovel drop to the ground and wrapped his arm around Mya, who was wilting fast. “Let’s go make you a cup of peppermint tea.”
Last Tailored Suit Page 3
