by Ivy Layne
Unlike Ophelia, Prentice Sawyer had never believed in lazy children. My sister Sterling aside, all of us had worked since we were kids. Summer jobs in various family businesses, chores around the house—anything that would keep us busy. We'd all been given positions in family companies after we graduated from college, but none of it had come for free.
“Fine, then,” Bryce said, holding his sneer too long, letting it slide from darkly handsome to bratty. “Why don’t you give me a job here?”
I resisted the urge to laugh. We had a waiting list of resumes for positions at The Inn. We paid well, treated our employees fairly, and had great benefits. We were always hiring—being in a tourist town meant higher than average turnover—but I doubted Bryce was qualified for anything at The Inn.
“I didn't know you were looking,” I said. “Why don't you tell me a little bit about your qualifications. Have you ever worked in hospitality?”
“I've stayed in plenty of hotels,” Bryce shot back.
“So, no hospitality experience. Have you ever worked in an office? Answered phones or handled customer service? We have an opening in event coordination and one on the housekeeping staff. Do you have any experience with cleaning?”
The blank look Bryce gave me almost broke my composure. I couldn’t help pressing further. “What did you study in college? If you have a business degree, I might be able to put you to work.”
Bryce gritted his perfectly straight, white teeth before forcing out, “Communications.”
“You did that minor in Italian,” Ophelia added unhelpfully.
I vaguely remembered Bryce spending his junior year in Italy. He'd almost gotten kicked out of college for not attending classes, but I wasn't sure he'd learned any Italian. Unable to resist, I said, “Hai le braccia corte.”
Bryce stared back at me with a look of blind confusion. Guess none of that Italian had stuck. It was probably good he didn’t know I’d just called him cheap. Somehow, I didn’t think Bryce would find it as funny as I did. I gave another helpless shrug.
“I'm sorry, I can't help you, Bryce. It wouldn't be fair to the other applicants to hire someone so unqualified. Unless you'd be willing to wait tables. Or maybe I can give you a few shifts with housekeeping and see how you do.”
“I'm not working housekeeping,” Bryce protested, the look of shock on his face priceless.
“Every single one of us did at least one summer scrubbing toilets and changing sheets. A little hard work never hurt anyone. I bet you’d learn a lot.”
Bryce tossed his gleaming, golden hair. “You've always been an asshole.”
“Bryce!” Ophelia looked at me and shook her head. “I'm so sorry, Royal. I don't know what's gotten into him. It's just that we're a little short right now. Gerald's alimony check hasn't come through and—”
I could never figure out how much of Ophelia was naïve entitlement and how much was calculation. It didn't really matter. I had no intention of subsidizing her lavish lifestyle at my own expense and neither did any of my siblings. I knew Griffen wouldn’t do it, so they were on their own.
On their own in a luxury resort, eating gourmet meals three times a day. Everyone should be on their own like Bryce and Ophelia.
I shook my head gently. “I'm sorry about that, Ophelia. Maybe you should give him a phone call. In the meantime, you have a roof over your head and three meals a day. Once we have the house fixed up you can move over there, but for now, The Inn is one of the most beautiful spots in the Carolinas. Enjoy. I've got to get back to my office. I'm late for a meeting. I'll see you at Sunday dinner, if not before.”
I made my escape, ignoring Bryce's protests as they followed me down the hall.
I got back to the office to find Tenn standing behind his desk, his phone to his ear, his brows drawn together in frustration.
“Yeah, okay. Royal just walked in. One of us will be down there in a few.” He hung up the phone. “Did you deal with Ophelia and Bryce?”
“Just had to set them straight on a few things.”
“What did they want?”
“Only an open tab for alcohol and at the gift shop,” I said mildly as if that were no big deal.
Tenn gave a short laugh. “Oh, is that all? I shudder to think how much they could have charged to the room if we hadn't thought to cut them off from the start.”
“I know. I told Bryce he should get a job.”
This time Tenn burst out with a genuine laugh. “Bet that didn't go over well.”
“You'd win that bet. What was up with the phone call?”
Tenn let out a long sigh. “The produce order was canceled.”
I stared at him. “Canceled? How did the order get canceled?”
“Someone called in and canceled all the orders from The Inn for this week.”
“And the vendor just canceled it? Without calling us? That's insane.”
“It was our bad luck that a new hire was on the orders desk when the cancellation came through. Whoever it was gave the head chef's name and said there'd been some changes. The new hire didn't know enough to check and went ahead and canceled the order.”
“Fucking hell. Do they have a plan?”
“They're working on it. Waiting on one of us.” Tenn pulled the quarter out of his pocket.
I backed up a step. “Oh, hell no. I just got Ophelia and Bryce. This clusterfuck is your problem.”
Tenn shook his head. “We flip every time. That's the deal.”
Since he was right, I didn't argue. This time I called tails. Mercifully, the quarter fell heads up.
“Damn,” Tenn swore as he pocketed the quarter.
“I have to get over to Heartstone anyway. I told Griffen I'd be there in time for lunch. If you need extra hands on deck to get the produce situation sorted out, give me a call.”
Striding out of Tenn’s office, I stopped abruptly. Penny was braced in the center of the room, her small frame pitted against another—this one taller, stronger, and far more determined.
“I told you, Ms. Sawyer, you can't come in without an appointment.”
“Let go of me, you little bitch.” Vanessa Sawyer looked up and saw me watching. With a toss of her shining black hair, she demanded, “Royal! Tell her to let me go. I’m your sister-in-law. I have a right to be here.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and ignored Vanessa.
“Thanks, Penny. You can let her go. Tenn and I will take care of her from here.”
In a quick, fluid move, Penny dropped her grip on Vanessa's arms and stepped to the side, out of reach. Grabbing her purse from her desk drawer, Penny announced, “I'm taking an early lunch,” and sailed out the door to the elevators.
“Why are you here, Vanessa?” I asked, sliding to block her entry into Tenn’s office. “You're not our sister-in-law. Ford divorced you years ago. And I know I'm not the only one who wishes you'd find another husband and stop using our name.”
Vanessa tossed her hair over her shoulder again and propped her hands on her hips in a posture she knew thrust her full breasts into prominence.
Vanessa was gorgeous, I’d give her that.
With her pale skin, red lips, and black hair, she was like an evil version of Snow White. It was no wonder Griffen had fallen so hard for her all those years ago. He’d been determined to marry her—right up until our father convinced her to switch allegiance to Ford when he’d exiled Griffen from Sawyers Bend.
Vanessa had been more than happy to trade Griffen's ring for Ford’s. As long as she got to marry the Sawyer heir, Vanessa was happy. Or as close as Vanessa got to happy.
Tenn came to stand beside me, crossing his arms over his chest. “We heard about your visit to Griffen and Hope. You’re not going to have better luck with us.”
Vanessa drew in a shuddering breath, but I wasn't buying it. I doubted she was capable of genu
ine tears. Though, to be fair, if anything could push her there it was her current situation.
“You know with Ford in jail and not working there isn't any alimony. I know I should've saved, but I… I just didn't. And now my car payment is due, and my mortgage, and I don't know—”
I looked over my shoulder at Tenn. My brother was always a sucker for a damsel in distress, even one as soulless and conniving as Vanessa.
“Why don't you head downstairs,” I suggested. “I can handle this.”
Tenn was out the door a second later, Vanessa staring after him with longing. She knew her best chance at walking away with a check had just left.
“Vanessa, I don't have anything for you. I'm not going to give you any money. The Sawyer family has paid out enough over the last decade. We’re done. If you need cash, sell your car and the house and downsize. That should get you by until you find a new cash cow. Or—I can hardly believe I'm suggesting this—get a job. That seems to be my mantra for the day. You want money? Get a fucking job. You want a handout? Try somewhere else. I have enough mooches under my roof right now. The last thing I need is another.”
Vanessa sniffed. “You have no compassion, Royal Sawyer.”
I told Vanessa the truth. “I have plenty of compassion, Vanessa. And if I believed for a second that you’d ever loved Ford, that you wanted anything from him other than a direct line to his wallet, I might feel bad for you. I might even help you out. But I know you didn't love Ford any more than you loved Griffen. You're only here to see what you can squeeze out of us now that the alimony well has run dry.”
Vanessa went stiff, her jaw hard. “If you were smart, you’d write me a check to get rid of me. That would be the easy way. Fifty grand, and I'll leave Sawyers Bend. You’ll never see me again.”
I didn't bother to hide my laugh. Fifty grand? I wouldn't have given her fifty dollars. Not after everything she’d put my brothers through.
“Not a chance. The rest of the family knows what you're up to, so I wouldn't bother working your way down the list. The Sawyers are done with you.”
Vanessa glared at me, furious tears brimming in her blue eyes. “You're going to regret this, Royal Sawyer. You think you're done with me? You think you can treat me like trash and throw me away? You're wrong.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I'm only going to warn you once. If you come after us, Vanessa, we will bury you. And that's not a threat. That's a promise.”
She whirled on her spike heel and stormed out, leaving a smothering cloud of perfume behind her. Her departure left me strangely deflated, sorry, and sad at what my brother’s marriage had come to.
Ford sat in jail for murdering our father, a crime none of us believed he’d committed, and the wife he never should have married was still hanging around, hoping for something from us.
Everyone had a hand out.
Everyone wanted something.
Trying to shake off my mood, I stopped in my office to grab my bag before heading to Heartstone Manor for the second half of my day. Pink and navy ribbons caught my eye. One of Daisy's brownies.
And just like that, my bad mood washed away.
Daisy.
I wished I had time to stop by the bakery, to see her smile and have her tell me once more how she wouldn't go out with me.
She would, eventually.
Daisy liked me, no matter how much she said she didn't.
I wasn't going to give up.
Lately, I was surrounded by people who wanted things from me they hadn’t earned.
Not Daisy. Daisy put herself at risk to protect The Inn, to protect me, and all she'd gotten out of it was a business deal I would have agreed to anyway.
She didn't use what she’d done to push for more. She didn't ask for favors or try to take advantage. Daisy had done what she thought was right, had put herself in danger, and hadn't even pressed her advantage.
To say she was a change of pace was a vast understatement.
But it wasn't just that. It was her wide smile and the light in her brown eyes. Her round curves, her energy, her soft cherry-cola curls, and the sound of her laugh.
I was trying to play this slow. To give her space. I wanted her, but I didn't want to stalk her. It was a fine but distinct difference.
I unwrapped the brownie as I walked to my car, Daisy firmly rooted in my mind. It occurred to me that Hope would be working with Griffen and me this afternoon.
Hope, Griffen's new wife, was also Daisy's best friend. If anybody could give me the inside scoop on the supposed boyfriend, it was Hope.
Before I left for Heartstone, I had a stop to make. I didn’t have time to see Daisy, but fuck it. For Daisy, I’d make time.
With a new spring in my step and the taste of rich chocolate filling my mouth, I turned back to The Inn. The chocolate had given me an idea.
Food was Daisy's thing, and I had the best kitchen in town at my disposal. I had a feeling I'd need every one of my advantages to win Daisy over.
Good thing I had a lot of them.
Chapter Eight
Daisy
Carefully, so carefully, I carried the tray with the wedding cake to the cooler in the back of the kitchen. Ready with a day to spare, the cake would feed a hundred guests at a garden wedding the next day.
All in white, embellished with delicate violets and green vines, it was gorgeous, if I did say so myself. I made sure the cake was settled neatly in place and closed the heavy door to the cooler, turning to evaluate the kitchen and figure out what to do next.
My mother had run back into the kitchen and slapped a note on the desk while I was working on the candied violets.
Low on toffee-chip cookies, orange-cranberry muffins, pie—all of them!—and chocolate cake.
Looks like I had my afternoon cut out for me.
I already had more toffee-chip cookies ready to go. Ditto on the chocolate cake. I hadn’t expected the run on orange-cranberry muffins or pie. Everyone in town must be in the mood for pie. Checking the clock, I saw it was past time for lunch. No wonder my stomach was growling.
I thought of the leftover casserole in my fridge upstairs. Not appealing. Still, a girl had to eat. When she was pinching every penny, a girl had to respect leftovers.
A quick double-knock fell on the back door to the kitchen. I was moving to open it when the handle turned. Royal stood there, a paper bag in his hand. He held it aloft and said in greeting, “Pastrami on rye? The Inn kitchen had fresh-cooked kettle chips.”
I didn't quite snatch the bag from his hand. Not exactly.
I could smell the pastrami, salty and rich. Calories. Yum.
As usual, I'd started my day on a cup of coffee, planning to eat breakfast, and had somehow never made it there. My feet hurt, my hair was an explosion of frizz, and I was pretty sure my sweat had passed the glowing stage. Royal just smiled at me, his eyes tracking past me to where the bouquet he'd sent crowded my small desk.
“Did you like the flowers?”
I raised my head from peeking in the bag and glanced over my shoulder at the flowers. “They're beautiful. I've been debating the appropriate way to say thank you.”
Royal's eyes skimmed me from head to toe, slowly, deliberately, heat blooming in their wake. Oh, I knew what he was thinking. That way lie danger. For me, not for him. I shook my head in a negative, trying to hide the smile that wanted to curve my mouth.
I expected him to say something suggestive. Proposition me or ask me out again. Instead, he gave me an easy smile. “I'm sure you'll think of something. In case you were wondering, your brownies aside, I'm partial to pie.”
“What kind?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Oh, pretty much all of them.”
“But what’s your favorite? Just asking out of curiosity.”
“Anything with berries.”
<
br /> “Good to know,” I said and stood there like a dork holding the sandwich bag and staring at him. He was just so much. He filled the kitchen with his maleness, with that dark hair and strong jaw, his broad shoulders and blue, blue eyes.
Maybe it was his pheromones. That was it, he was using his body chemistry to make me crazy. It wasn't my fault. Any woman would be attracted to him.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No—I, um, I just finished a wedding cake, and I was thinking about lunch, actually, and how I really didn't want to eat the casserole upstairs, so this is very much appreciated. But, um, why are you here?”
Royal leaned his hip against one of my worktables and shoved a hand in his pocket. He shrugged one shoulder. “To be honest, I don't really know. I had a crap morning and I'm headed to Heartstone for what will hopefully be a better afternoon. I tried to tell myself I didn't have time to see you, but here I am. Because I really wanted to see you.”
“But why?” A dumb question, I know, but really, I didn't get it. What was there to see? It was just me and my apron, my hair sticking out in every direction, streaked with flour. Why me?
Royal straightened and closed the distance between us, his blue eyes focused on my face. Plucking the sandwich bag from my hand, he raised his own and extended one finger to trace over the curve of my cheekbone.
Leaning down, he murmured, “Because you’re you, and seeing you feels good. I could try listing all your good qualities. I did that on Friday, but it doesn't seem to have sunk in. So, I'm going to go with the easy answer. Being near you makes me feel good. And I can't stop thinking about doing this.”
Royal set the sandwich bag on the table behind him and turned, cupping my face in his hands. I knew what he was going to do. I could feel it coming.
I should have stepped back. I should have told him not to.
I should have told him I had a boyfriend.
I didn't do any of that.
I didn't want to step back.
And I didn't really have a boyfriend.