Bargaining With the Boss

by Jennifer Shirk

  “Yes. I want to be your friend,” he told her honestly.

  “Really…” Kinsley cocked her head, seeming to think it over. “I’m not sure if that can work—no offense. Just speaking from past experience. My ex was my last boss, if you remember, and that ended rather poorly.”

  “I’m only looking to be your friend, not your fiancé.”

  She continued to study him with wary eyes. “I tend to speak my mind to my friends. I’m sure I’ll say something to you that will get me fired or at the very least kill any chance of you giving me a reference.”

  “Maybe we can have some sort of mutual code to let me know when your mouth is officially off duty, so no offense is taken.”

  “Like a safe word?” Kinsley grinned.

  “Exactly.” Damon smiled back, enjoying her humor and her company, just like he had at the wedding last weekend. They weren’t even officially friends yet, but he was already feeling a warm connection with her. And quite frankly, up until now, he’d had no idea how badly he could use a friend.

  “I suppose I can make the time-out sign,” she suggested, demonstrating by making a T with her hands, “and say ‘off the clock’ or something along those lines. How about that?”

  “Off the clock and a time-out sign? I can abide by that code.” Turning his head, Damon suddenly sneezed. It made his throat and head hurt even more. Damn allergies.

  “Bless you,” she said. “Coming down with something?”

  He shook his head, feeling a slight chill as well. “Allergies.”

  “What could you be allergic to? We’re next to the beach.”

  Damon picked a white cat hair off his jacket and sneezed again. “Your cat. You’re going to have to get rid of her.”

  “Colette?” Kinsley’s hands shot up in an immediate T. “Off the clock?” she blurted.

  He paused. “Okay, off the clock.”

  She dropped her hands, huffed out a breath. “FYI, I am not getting rid of Collette. She’s practically family, and besides, she was there first.”

  “I can barely breathe because of that thing.”

  “Oh dear, that is a dilemma.” She made a tsk tsk sound. “Well, maybe it would be better for everyone all around if we just got rid of you instead,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

  “Now, now,” he chided lightly, “friends don’t say things like that to each other.”

  “This friendship is obviously a work in progress.”

  He was still grinning at her when a waitress finally came over and plopped down a orangey pink–colored drink in front of him. “There you go,” she announced proudly.

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “I think there’s been some mistake. I didn’t order this.”

  Her young face scrunched in confusion. “Kathy told me you wanted the strongest drink on the menu.”

  “I did…but what’s that?”

  “The strongest drink we have. It’s called The Terminator—a smoothie of carrots, beets, kale, pineapple, and dandelion. It has a little Greek yogurt and protein powder in it too, for your muscles.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Oh, no, I’m totally serious. I made it myself. I promise you it’s very strong. Your body is going to feel great. You’ll thank me tomorrow for sure,” she said, beaming.

  I certainly won’t be thanking you now. That is for sure.

  Damon ran a hand over his face. His patience for this town was worn down. “Look, maybe Kathy misunderstood. Why don’t you drink it? At this point, I’ll just settle for a beer.”

  Kinsley started to chuckle. “Good luck with that order. Damon, don’t you know Cape Harmony is a dry town?”

  “You mean I can’t get any alcohol here at all?”

  The waitress nodded. “Or anywhere in town. Except in your own house or for private parties, like weddings or fundraisers. Been like this forever.” She cracked her chewing gum and pulled out a small pad. “Are you ready to order your dinner?”

  He looked at the thick Easter egg–colored drink before him and debated getting up and heading back to his hotel room. He certainly wasn’t in New York City anymore. “I’ll have the pasta special,” he muttered instead.

  The waitress’s face lit up. “Ooh, yay, you! It’s yummo! But everything here is yummo. I’ll go put your order in and then I’ll be back,” she said in the worst Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation.

  Yummo. Yeah, yay, me. Damon refrained from rolling his eyes. He needed to get out of this dorky town and return to New York, where waitresses expressed their approval of his food order by a nod or a simple “good choice, sir.” Not exclaiming yummo. There certainly wasn’t any lack of smiles around here, either. Did they put Prozac in the water or something? He wouldn’t be all that astounded, because he couldn’t remember laughing or smiling so much since being here. Although he had a sneaking suspicion a good chunk of that reasoning was also due to the quirky brunette sitting next to him. The muscles in his cheek were starting to strain from all the overuse.

  But if he was truly honest with himself…on some odd level, he kind of liked it. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of welcome.

  “Maybe you should drink that stuff,” Kinsley suggested, gesturing to his carrot smoothie. “You don’t look so hot.”

  “Is that an ‘off-the-clock’ comment or a regular comment?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “No. I’d tell you that as your dutiful employee as well. Are you sure it’s only allergies you have?” she asked, handing him a tissue from her purse.

  “I never get sick.” But he took the tissue anyway.

  “Right. Because you obviously have a superhuman immune system.”

  “That’s right. Among other superhuman qualities,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “In that case, if you’re sure your defenses aren’t down and I’m not taking advantage, I won’t have to feel guilty about asking you again for more money to be put back into the hotel budget.”

  He held in a sigh. “I thought we already went over this. What exactly do you need a bigger budget for?”

  “For renovations to the ballroom.” She bit her lip.

  “Good grief, Kinsley. Don’t you ever give it a rest?” But truth be told, he wasn’t that upset at her. He wished he had more employees with the kind of drive for success she possessed. Just not with this particular property.

  She shrugged. “One of my professors at Rutgers said, ‘If you don’t ask, then the answer is always no.’”

  “Good to know. Remind me to never hire anyone from that school,” he muttered.

  “Speaking of school, where did you end up graduating? Wade said you might have transferred to Florida.”

  “No.”

  A frown tugged between her brows. “No, you didn’t graduate, or no, you didn’t transfer to Florida?”

  He sighed. “I transferred and graduated from NYU, if you must know.”

  “The business school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed. I would have loved to have gone there myself, but I couldn’t afford it. Great networking opportunities, though. Is that why you decided to transfer there?”

  Damon stiffened. He didn’t necessarily decide to transfer, and if Carson hadn’t had his accident, Damon most likely would have stayed and graduated from North Carolina with Wade. However, the topic of his brother—or anything else personal about himself—was one he never liked to delve into with anyone, no matter how tempting or engaging the person bringing up the topic was.

  “Kinsley, I’m not sure what your point is with all these questions,” he said, deliberately keeping his voice light.

  “Come on, Damon. I thought we were friends. This is what friends do. They talk. Usually to each other.”

  “Oh, now you’re pulling the friendship card?”

  “Yes, and you know what? Friends also do favors for each other. Like increasing their operating budgets,” she said, batting her eyes.

  He cracked a smile. “Nice try, but
the answer is still no.”

  She took a deep breath and paused. “Fine.”

  “Kinsley, I— Did you just say fine?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I mean it. The board still has to weigh its decision on anything pertaining to the hotel. If you do anything without my consent, it’ll be coming out of your paycheck. Do you understand that?”

  Kinsley pulled her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, and his gaze was immediately drawn to her mouth. Like he needed an extra reason to focus on it. Then she tilted that pretty little head of hers, looking as if her brain was turning over like a turbo hamster wheel.

  “I told you it’s fine,” she said again.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Yep. Especially since that’s all you seem to have to say.”

  “This isn’t like you,” he said, ignoring the remark about not wanting to talk about himself.

  She flipped her long brown hair off her shoulder. “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  Maybe not, but I think I’d like to. A dangerous notion to have, although he felt it just the same, because getting to know her better would mean she would get to know him in a more personal way, too. He couldn’t go there. No. Friends. That’s all they were. Friends and business associates. That’s all they ever should be. As attractive as he found Kinsley, she was still not his typical female type. Women he usually got involved with knew upfront what they were getting into. There would be no white picket fences in their future. Kinsley was the kind of woman who would want marriage and a family, seeing how much tradition meant to her. Plus, as Wade not so kindly reminded him, Kinsley was not a woman to be toyed with, especially after her recent breakup.

  She shrugged good-naturedly and stood. “I had to try, right? Although I think you’re making a big mistake. But don’t worry. I can and will totally respect your decision.”

  Damon frowned, then looked over his shoulder to make sure aliens hadn’t burst into the restaurant and started taking over all human minds. He hadn’t known Kinsley that long, but her immediate agreement with him had him feeling edgy and just a bit suspicious.

  “Is that so?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. I will not spend any extra money of the hotel’s operating budget on renovations unless first approved by you or the board.”

  It took Damon a moment to answer. “Well…good,” he said, still feeling like he was missing something. But maybe it was just the allergies clouding his head.

  She slung the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, then,” she said, flashing him a grin.

  “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Puzzled by her abrupt change of mood, he watched as Kinsley made her way over to Arden and Ronnie Lafferty. And almost immediately wished he would have shared something about himself to make her stay a little longer.

  Chapter Six

  Clad in jeans, tennis shoes, and an old flannel shirt of her brother’s, Kinsley slipped into work the next morning through the back door.

  “Is Damon here yet?” she whispered to Elena.

  Elena looked up from the registration desk, took one look at her outfit, and chuckled. “I didn’t know casual Friday was now on Wednesday.”

  “Just answer the question. I have a muffin tray in my car that you can have first dibs on if you do.”

  “In that case, no, I haven’t seen him yet. Does the tray have those banana muffins I like?”

  Kinsley nodded. “Yes. The ones with the peanut-butter chips.”

  “Ooh, you’re the best,” her friend said, lightly clapping her hands. “I just hope you’re not doing anything that will put your job in jeopardy. Because, if that’s the case, I’ll really miss you bringing in those muffins.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong.” She winced at her own tone. She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.

  “Right. Because you always sneak around the hotel in your brother’s clothes.”

  “This?” Kinsley fingered the hem of the shirt fondly. It was extra soft and had a comfortable worn-in quality that you could never buy straight out of the store. “I needed painting clothes, so I swiped it from Wade’s place. I actually may keep it.”

  Elena shook her head. “You’re painting? Oh, dear.”

  Kinsley’s text alert went off. The painters were here. This was her chance to bring in the crew before Damon saw anyone enter. She walked outside the main entrance and looked around to make sure the coast was still clear. Once she was sure Damon wasn’t anywhere around, she waved them in. Her father’s old handyman, Mr. Knotts, and two of his workmen, carrying buckets of paint, brushes, and a ladder, came bustling through the doors.

  “Okay, guys, straight ahead and then make a right at the end of the hall,” she said, directing them.

  Mr. Knotts, a balding man of sixty-four, paused before following his men. “Would have been here sooner, Kinsley, but that paint store on 55th street was blocked off because of high tidal flooding.”

  “It’s no problem, Mr. Knotts,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m just so thankful you can give me a few hours of your time at all.”

  “Well, if you cook anything like your mama then I’m definitely the one who’s making out on this deal,” he said with a wink.

  She laughed. “Well, we’ll see about that. But I never renege on a promise. In fact, I’ll throw in some cornbread with that chili, too.”

  “You’re an angel.”

  “I’ve got muffins in my car for you and your men. I’ll let you guys set up first and then I’ll be there in a few minutes to set out a tray for you.”

  “Thanks, doll. I better go check in on my crew now. We have a job scheduled tomorrow, so we’ll be here all day today to try to get at least one full coat on. Then I’ll come back the day after to do another coat.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll help in any way you need, too.”

  As Mr. Knotts headed toward the ballroom, Kinsley took out her car keys to go grab the muffin tray. Judy Tavish at the Drip N Sip was so nice and did such a great job putting this party tray together for her. She didn’t know how Wade could be so upset with such a sweet lady for trying to fix him up. The woman obviously liked making people happy, and that included matchmaking. Although she didn’t seem to be in such a hurry to fix Kinsley up with anyone. She figured she would be on her radar now that everyone knew her engagement had bombed.

  Balancing the tray with her hip, Kinsley eased back inside the hotel and caught the folded arms and disapproving expression of her friend. Kinsley placed the tray down and began unwrapping the plastic wrap. She handed Elena a banana muffin, which she eagerly took and began eating without hesitation.

  “I thought maybe you were just hungry, but the muffin isn’t taking that look off your face,” Kinsley said with a teasing grin. “What’s wrong?”

  Elena stopped chewing. “Do you really need to ask? Did Damon give you permission for all this?” she asked, flailing her hands toward the ballroom.

  “Um, sort of.”

  Elena sighed. “I don’t like where this is heading.”

  “Oh, calm yourself. It’ll be fine. Last night, I ran into Damon at Frank and Kathy’s Bistro. We came to an understanding, by which he explained to me that I could not do any renovations using the hotel’s budget. And I agreed.”

  Elena gave her a skeptical glance. “Okay, so if you agreed, why are you sneaking painters in behind Damon’s back? And if you don’t have permission to use hotel money then how are you paying for all this?”

  “Elena, Elena, you worry too much,” she said, patting her friend’s hand. “Relax. I’ve got it all under control.”

  Someone behind them coughed then cleared his throat. “And what exactly do you have all under control?”

  Damon! Kinsley whirled around, all her carefully formulated defenses coming together in one jumbled-up thought. “I— Oh my gosh, Damon, you look awful.” She rushed over to him, afraid he was about to pass out on her.
>
  “What? I’m fine, really,” he said, waving off her concern. “I just need some allergy medicine.”

  Kinsley tried to keep her expression neutral, but it looked like a lot more than just allergies to her. Damon’s normally tanned face appeared muted and dull. He’d skipped the sports coat this morning, opting for a slightly rumpled blue dress shirt, no tie. Not his usual polished attire, although one could argue that this more relaxed look suited him better, if not for the watery eyes and light perspiration dotting his forehead.

  Kinsley exchanged concerned glances with Elena. “Um, if you say so. The cat isn’t here today anyway. But if she comes by, we’ll make sure we won’t let her in.”

  Damon coughed and nodded. “Thank you,” he wheezed out. Then he squinted as his eyes raked her up and down. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked.

  “Just, uh, doing a little hands-on work today.” She shot Elena a warning glance to not say a word about the painters then pasted on a false smile for Damon. “Didn’t want to get a run in my pantyhose, so I just threw on jeans and this old thing.”

  Damon reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her oversize flannel that probably looked more like a muumuu than an actual shirt. “Cute,” he said with a grin.

  Her cheeks automatically ignited. Calm down, Kinsley. He didn’t call you a sex kitten. He called you cute. Even Dopey the Dwarf is considered cute. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Their gazes locked and held. Damon’s grin slowly dissolved as he continued to study her face. He looked as if something else was on his mind. He stepped closer, and his nearness kindled a restless feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Elena cleared her throat. “Should I call the pharmacy to deliver some medicine?”

  Damon blinked, looking slightly disoriented. “Uh, no,” he said, backing away from Kinsley. “I’ll be fine as long as I don’t see the cat today. I’ll pick something up after work.”

  Just then a loud crash came from the ballroom.