The Upside to Being Single

by Emma Hart

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Mellie, listen to me. It’s not your job to make sure Harley knows how to do the order. It’s Quinn’s responsibility, and I’ll be telling her that when she’s back.” He rounded the desk and leaned against it on my side. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve been left to run this place pretty much single-handedly. I’m only making these changes because it’s how I want this place to be run.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “No, there’s no buts.” He gently nudged my shoulder so I sat up straight. “Look at me.”

  I gritted my teeth, but I did as he’d asked, turning my head to meet his eyes.

  “You’re not at fault here,” he said quietly. “Trust me. I don’t blame you. You can’t oversee every single member of staff all the time. That’s why you have other managers here. They’re supposed to do it for you.”

  “I know, but—”

  He pressed two fingers against my lips before quickly pulling them away. “I told you, no buts. You’re a great manager, Mellie. I see the way you interact with all the staff and how much they respect you in turn. You’re a wonderful person, and the only reason you haven’t been hard on people is because you’re just too damn nice.”

  “Being hard on people is part of my job,” I said quietly, fiddling with a button on my shirt. “If I can’t be honest with my staff and tell them more than once when I’m not happy, what kind of a manager does that make me?”

  He pushed the hair from my eyes. “It makes you a great one. I know we’ve beaten the bar order to death and back to life, but here, listen to me.” He put two fingers beneath my chin and tilted my head up so our eyes met. “You picked up the slack there because you didn’t want anyone else to feel bad. You didn’t have the time to do the order, but you did it anyway. You didn’t want Harley to feel like she was failing and you didn’t want Quinn to think she wasn’t training properly.”

  “But that’s exactly what’s happening.”

  “And it’s my job to fix it.” He stroked his thumb across my chin before pulling his hand back away. “I’m blunter than you. This is my hotel to fix, and when I’m done being bad cop, I know you’ll be the good cop and put a smile back on everyone’s faces.”

  “Smiles doesn’t equal good work,” I replied.

  “No.” His lips tugged up. “But what does equal good work is an amazing manager. One who has a smile for every staff member and goes out of her way to make sure the work environment is a happy one. You don’t have to make sure everyone is doing their job perfectly. I want you to make sure everyone is happy.”

  I swallowed and looked down. “I want everyone to be happy. I want them to like coming to work here. I don’t want them to go home feeling stressed or angry.”

  “Which is why you take care of the angry customers. You deal with the complicated phone calls. You handle all the paperwork and general running of the hotel, as well as making sure everyone has everything and there are no problems.” His smile grew a little wider. “You buy them food and make sure the staff room gets a fresh flower delivery once a week. You buy their birthday presents out of your own money and make sure every member of staff gets a card at both birthday and Christmas. You cover shifts so others can leave early to see their wife have a baby or their sick aunt who’s been rushed to hospital.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. How did he know all that stuff? I didn’t think anyone paid attention to the stuff I did. I knew it was appreciated, but I didn’t know anybody actually cared enough to remember all the little things.

  But, somewhere in this hotel, there were people who had.

  “Rosa told me about the time her brother got in an accident while he was fishing and you took the vacuum off her so she could go to the hospital, then she told me how you let her take the next day off because he was critical. And you sent her flowers, which she still feels bad about because she forgot to thank you.”

  “I didn’t do it for thanks,” I muttered.

  “I know that, and so does she. Wake up, Mellie.” He cupped my chin once again. “You don’t need to make sure everyone does their job perfectly because you’re too busy making sure this is a great place to work.”

  “How do you know all that stuff?”

  He shrugged. “I asked when I first got here. My first impression of you was a bit of a hot mess—”

  “That’s changed?”

  He paused. “Not particularly. You’re still a hot mess, but you’re an amazing hot mess.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  A small laugh escaped him. “I asked the staff to tell me a little about you, and that’s just a fraction of what I heard. You’re not perfect. You break more stuff than the average person—”

  “You sneak up on people. That’s hardly my fault.”

  “You tell yourself that, spitfire.” His eyes sparkled. “You break a lot of stuff, you’re not always the brightest star in the sky when I mess with you—”

  “Also not my fault.”

  He covered my mouth with his hand. “Stop fucking interrupting me.”

  I blinked at him. I couldn’t agree to be quiet, could I?

  I also couldn’t breathe.

  I peeled his finger away from my nostrils. “‘An’t breef,” I said against his palm.

  “Oh. Shit. Sorry.” He dropped his hand with a laugh. “Can I finish now?”

  I nodded.

  “You break a lot of stuff, you’re not always sharp when I’m being an idiot, and you’re sometimes too nice and forgiving for your own good, but they’re not bad things. They’re just who you are, and I happen to think that who you are is pretty incredible.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Which is probably part of the reason why I can’t stop thinking about kissing you every time I look at you.”

  A light flush rose up my cheeks. “This escalated quickly.”

  He took a deep breath in. “I stopped using my filter.”

  “It’s been a long morning. I’ll forgive you.” My lips pulled into a half-smile, and I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Um…Thank you. I appreciate it?”

  “Are you telling me? That sounded a lot like a question.”

  “I’m not used to anyone being so nice to me.”

  “Ironic, since you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

  “I literally spend half our conversations in a permanent state of sarcasm. That doesn’t equal the nicest person you’ve ever met.”

  “How do you know? I’ve met some right assholes. Did I tell you about my cousin?”

  I laughed, standing up. “You did. You’ve also met Peyton, and she’s definitely a bigger asshole than I am.”

  “Most people are, spitfire.”

  Well, in his defense, he hadn’t known me that long, really.

  “Okay, so, what do we do about Harley?” I put my hands on my hips and leaned back against the windowsill. Before he could answer, I said, “I think we need to speak to Quinn and explain there’s obviously a training issue here, because, at the very least, she should have noticed that Harley struggles with it. She should have been taking Harley down to help when she’s been doing the order. And if it’s because Harley’s not really number-inclined, then the task should have been taken off her a long time ago. I think Quinn needs to run through it all again with her and supervise her doing a couple of stock takes to find out the issue.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling. “I see you were eager to hear my input.”

  “I don’t like your attitude.”

  Laughing, he pushed off the desk and walked toward me. “Perfect.” He tapped me on the nose. “That sounds like a good plan, spitfire.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Other than the one you just asked?”

  Cocky bastard. “Why do you call me spitfire?”

  He tilted his head to the side, his eyes sparkling with something gentle but unidentifiable. “Because you are a spitfire. You’re so gentle, but at the
same time, you’re incredibly fierce.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  He grinned, then briefly cupped my chin. “Yes. It is.”

  “Good to know.” My eyes met his.

  A storm brewed in his gray gaze. It was wild—a heady mix of want and restraint, of desire and determination.

  I knew what he wanted to do.

  My heart picked up a fast beat. I couldn’t stop it, and after everything he’d said to me tonight, I knew he wanted to kiss me for more than one reason.

  I wanted to kiss him.

  I wanted to break the rule we’d set, the one I was so steadfastly determined to keep, and kiss him.

  I didn’t care that he was my boss. It was impossible to remember that when I looked into his eyes. All I saw was a guy, a regular guy, who wanted me. And it was tempting, intoxicating. None of the stuff we’d agreed mattered.

  So, I broke the rule. That one rule I swore to myself I wouldn’t break.

  I kissed him.

  I stepped forward, flattened my hands against his chest, and I kissed Jacob Creed.

  His hands found my waist, his touch almost tentative, like he couldn’t believe I was kissing him. As I slid my own hands up his chest to his neck, he tightened his grip, making his fingers dig into my skin.

  He pulled me against him so tight not even a breath could pass between our bodies. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck and kissed him hard. He responded in an instant, circling my body with one arm and bringing the other up to cup the back of my head.

  His tongue flicked against my lips. I didn’t hesitate in allowing him to deepen the kiss. I wanted more of him. I could feel him everywhere, from the taste of his coffee on his tongue to the effects of his kiss in the goosebumps on my arms.

  I could feel him, too. His cock was hardening against my lower stomach, and he held me so tight there was no escaping it. Desire bolted through me as I gave in. There wasn’t a part of my body that wasn’t a raging inferno of need by the time he was fully hard.

  If he pushed, I’d let him do more than kiss me.

  I wanted him to push it. I wanted him to push it while I was so heady with lust that I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think anything at all except for his.

  Couldn’t think of anything but the way he gripped my hair. The way his fingers dug into my hip. The way my heart beat faster than I’d ever known it to before.

  The way he kissed me.

  He kissed me freely and with abandon, with pure passion that ricocheted right through my veins.

  I was alive.

  More alive than I’d ever been in the arms of a man.

  And I was terrified of that.

  Because it meant this was more than a schoolgirl crush. This was a real crush, one that tangled work politics with the heart, and that was a dangerous maze to navigate.

  This was a real crush, based on an amazing guy with an even more amazing smile.

  I broke the kiss, gasping. My thoughts had spiraled beyond just him, and now the reality of kissing him had shattered the momentary peace.

  “I have to do the order before one,” I breathed. It wasn’t an excuse.

  All right, it was, but it also wasn’t a lie.

  “Wait.” He held me tight against him when I tried to move away. He ghosted his lips across my cheek to my ear and said, “You can’t kiss a guy like that then run.”

  “Is there a rulebook for post-kissing etiquette?”

  “I’ll write one,” he murmured, pulling back without releasing me. “Last night. Let’s do it again.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Where we try to cook, and you distract me so much the food burns?”

  “Yes, but we skip the cooking and go straight to the distracting.”

  “The distracting is part of it—”

  “Skip the cooking and go straight to fucking, Mellie.”

  Man. I really was dense.

  I coughed. “That was, um, blunt.”

  He smirked. “I told you I’m blunter than you are.”

  “I’m determined to teach you how to cook. I’m not okay with skipping cooking.”

  “You’re gonna burn it again.”

  “No. You’re going to behave.” I slid my hands down to his chest. “Since I assume this is non-negotiable.”

  He sighed. “I love it when you don’t argue with me. I love it when you do argue with me, but since you have to do the order, it’s easier that you aren’t.”

  I pursed my lips.

  He laughed and released his tight grip on me. “Look, I have to fly to my mom’s tomorrow morning to help her pack up the last of my grandpa’s things. I’ll be back Friday. We can do it then.”

  “Do what? What are we categorizing this as? Clearly it’s not non-friends.”

  “A date, Mellie. Call a date a date, would you?”

  “That’s a…I think you’re supposed to ask to make it a date.” My throat was dry. A date? Dear God. I wasn’t prepared for a damn date.

  “A non-date. That’s a date.” He crossed his arms, clearly fighting laughter.

  “Just call it dinner and go away and let me do my job.” I sat at my chair and booted the computer with a quick slap onto the keyboard. “Jake.”

  “You’re so cute when you’re awkward.” He grinned again and straightened his shirt. “I’ll leave you to it. I have a couple of things to do, then I have to go home and pack. Are you okay here?”

  “I’ve handled it as the manager for the last four years. I think I’ll be okay,” I drawled.

  Jake grabbed his jacket and winked. “I’ll text you to set up Friday night, okay?”

  I turned to the computer and hoped he wouldn’t see me blush. “Okay.”

  “Oh, and, Mellie? You’re really fucking cute when you blush like that.”

  I threw my wireless mouse at him.

  Unfortunately for me, by the time the mouse got to him, he was already outside and had shut my door.

  The mouse smashed into it and fell to the floor.

  “Oh, shit!” I ran across the room and picked it up. The little light on the bottom flickered three times before going out. Not even turning it off and back on again worked.

  I slumped against the wall and sighed. Hopefully, the nearest store wouldn’t be too busy, and I could run in and out to get a new mouse.

  My phone buzzed on the desk.

  Jake: I think you have an anger problem.

  Me: I think I have a YOU problem!

  Jake: I have a you problem. It’s uncomfortable to sit in my car…

  Me: Then stop being so hot and I won’t accidentally kiss you.

  Jake: Unfortunately, this level of good looking is hard to control. As for you “accidentally” kissing me, I’ll take it. I did see you slip when you grabbed me…

  I huffed.

  Me: Go away. I have to go and buy a new mouse.

  Jake: Anger problem…

  Me: Go suck an alligator’s ass.

  Jake: Like I said…

  Me: I’m going to watch Forensic Files tonight. Be afraid.

  Jake: As long as I can fuck you first, you can kill me any way you like. I won’t even put up a fight.

  Me: GOODBYE, JACOB.

  I shoved the phone into my purse before the conversation could continue any further.

  Yep. My problem was definitely Jake-sized.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Upside #18: The only feelings you have are toward baby animals. And pizza.

  “Do you ever stop working?” I asked, looking at Peyton tapping away on the phone.

  “Seriously,” said Chloe. “So much for girls night.”

  Peyton sighed. “it’s just one email.”

  “You said that five emails ago.” I sipped my drink. “So, forgive me if I don’t believe you, but I don’t think you’re putting that damn thing down anytime soon.”

  She peered at me over the table. A mischievous grin stretched across her face. “If you knew whose application I was looking at right now, you wouldn
’t be so frustrated.”

  Chloe leaned over to see her screen, but Peyton put her phone face down on the table.

  I frowned at her, setting my glass back down. “I can honestly say that not once have I ever cared about your applications.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You would if you thought this ran in the family.”

  “If what ran in the family?”

  In fact, I shouldn’t have asked. Didn’t Jake tell me that his cousin had a crush on Peyton?

  Yes. Yes, he did.

  “Well,” Peyton started. “Let’s just say he shares the same surname as your hot new boss.”

  Chloe gasped. “No!”

  “Yes,” Peyton said with a smug smile. “I just received an application from one Samuel Creed.”

  “Oh no,” I groaned. “I didn’t know he was serious.”

  Peyton picked up a glass instead of me over the top. “You knew he was going to do this?”

  “Um, maybe.”

  “I’m not mad, Mellie.” There was a sparkle in her eye. “I’ve seen a lot of penises in the last couple of years, but I have to admit, that’s a pretty darn nice-looking penis.”

  Chloe wrinkled up her nose. “There’s no such thing as a nice-looking penis.”

  I had to agree. Nice was not a word I would use to ever describe a penis. “Sorry, Peyt. I’m with Chloe on this one.”

  Peyton shrugged her shoulders. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you think these things are genetic, they might just well be. If you were interested in a little more than your boss’s ass.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” asked Chloe. “Actually, never mind.I don’t think I want to know.” She shook her head and reached for her glass.

  Yeah. I was going to need more alcohol for this conversation.

  Peyton laughed, holding her hands up. “Hey, hey. There may have been this one time in college that I accidentally slept with cousins.”

  Chloe spat out her drink.

  “How…” I stared at her, then pinched the bridge of my nose for a second before composing myself. I looked up from my finished plate and met her eyes. “How do you accidentally sleep with cousins?”

  “Yeah, I mean,” Chloe started, then stopped. “How do you do that?”