by Morgan James
The discomfort from a moment ago immediately dissipated, and a strange pain shot through my heart at the sight of her slumped shoulders, insecurity written plainly all over her face. Regardless of where she came from or what she was doing here, I wanted to help her. There was something about her that I just couldn’t put my finger on, that I couldn’t puzzle out. For now, I had to be content with what she was giving me.
“You open to any kind of work?”
She eyed me warily. “Anything that pays—within reason.”
Good enough. I picked up my phone, an idea brewing. Jack Prescott and his soon-to-be-wife, Mia, owned the ski lodge up on the mountain. I knew they were looking for people to help get ready for the grand opening, but I wasn’t sure what all they needed. This kind of killed two birds with one stone. I wasn’t sure how long Jules planned to hang around, but this might work in both their favor. Jules could make a little money until she decided what to do, and it would help Jack out in the process.
There was another added bonus to the scenario. Jack had done multiple tours with the Army, and he didn’t take shit from anyone. He would be able to keep an eye on her and make sure nothing happened. I wasn’t really worried that she would try to steal anything, but I did worry for her safety. Pulling up the most recent string of messages, I began to type.
Me: Still looking for some help?
It was early, but I knew Jack would respond as long as he wasn’t busy. Three dots popped up almost immediately.
Jack: Who do you have for me?
Me: More like what I have for you
I didn’t bother to beat around the bush.
Me: Got a runaway here who I think could use some cash and a safe place to land for a while
I let Jack mull that over for a while, deciding what he wanted to do. It was a lot to take on, but if anyone could do it, it was him. Sure enough, a new message popped up less than a minute later.
Jack: Am I going to regret this?
Probably.
I slanted a look at the young woman across from me. She sat ramrod straight, shoulders perfectly level, feet crossed at the ankles. Her hands lay in her lap, but I noticed the faintest fidgeting as she picked at her nails. She glanced down and, as if realizing what she was doing, pressed her hands flat together and tucked them between her thighs.
Me: Might be a flight risk
Jack: Female?
Of their own volition, my eyes skimmed over her body once more, and my original assumption solidified in my mind. Jules was the epitome of grace and sophistication, the product of a good upbringing, probably in a wealthy environment.
Me: Yeah. Bet my right hand she’s from money. Can’t get a thing out of her
Jack: Bring her in
I glanced at the clock as I sipped my coffee. I had about half an hour before I was due on duty, but thankfully I didn’t have to head right into the station. Being sheriff gave me a little more leniency. I threw a quick look at Jules, who hadn’t moved. “I’m going to go change, and then we can head out, if that’s okay.”
Her head bobbed in a quick nod. “Of course.”
I watched as she nervously wiped her palms on her thighs. Did all men make her uncomfortable, or was it just me? The officer inside me wanted to prod, to question her until she broke and told me everything. The slightly more compassionate man I barely knew even existed anymore told me it was a bad idea to push her. After studying her mannerisms over the brief period of time she’d been with me last night and this morning, I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with her. If anyone had a chance of getting her to open up, it would be a woman. Maybe Mia could work some magic. I was curious as hell but determined not to let it show.
Leaving my empty cup on the table, I strolled down the hallway to the bedroom. I quickly dressed and retrieved my pistol and duty belt from the safe inside the closet. Five minutes later, I found myself back in the living room. Jules was still on the couch, sitting primly on the edge, and her expectant gaze lifted to mine.
At first glance, it looked like she hadn’t moved a muscle. But as my gaze swept over the empty coffee table, I realized she’d cleaned up our coffee cups from earlier. Sure enough, they sat on the counter by the sink.
I turned back to her. “Thanks.”
All I got in response was a curt nod. I’d never known a woman who spoke so little, but I really wasn’t surprised under the circumstances.
I lifted my chin at her as I examined her plain outfit and bare, fresh face. “Are you ready?”
In my experience, a woman was never ready. My ex-wife had taken an hour or more to do her makeup before she was ready to leave the house. But Jules surprised me.
She popped to her feet and nodded. “I’m ready when you are.”
It wasn’t lost on me that she kept the coffee table between us. The only time she had let me get within arm’s reach of her was when she was in the cruiser next to me and when I unlocked the door to the house. Self-preservation was deeply ingrained in her; I could tell that much. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the fact that she didn’t trust me raised my hackles. Because I was an asshole like that, I wanted to push her.
I tipped my head, indicating that she should precede me toward the garage. Eyes cast low but still vigilant, she skirted me and headed through the mud room the same way we’d come in last night. I couldn’t help it. The gentle sway of her hips drew my attention, and I was lost in their hypnotic allure. There was no hiding that fact that she was downright gorgeous. I could practically feel the softness of her curves under my hands, the sweet taste of her lips. I wanted to take that long, beautiful hair and sink my fingers into it, sift through the soft strands as they lay over my pillow. I wanted...
I halted in my tracks, completely horrified at the turn my thoughts had taken. Jules hesitated next to the cruiser, her hand frozen on the door handle. She threw a questioning glance my way, spurring me into movement once more. There were a hundred reasons why I could never get involved with this woman, not the least of which was the fact that she was too young for me—way too damn young.
Fuck.
Instead of acknowledging Jules’s reticence, I opened my door and slid into the seat. Through the window, I watched Jules bite her lip before reluctantly climbing inside. I wished I could tell what was going through her mind. Was she already dreading being in close quarters with me again? Or had my hesitation fueled her discomfort? Once more I wanted to punch myself for my wayward thoughts.
I pushed the button to lift the garage door as she snapped her seat belt into place. We remained quiet, each of us lost in our own reverie as I made my way along the curving, winding road up the mountain to Briarleigh. I parked in the employee lot and led Jules to the side door. I’d been here enough over the past couple weeks to know exactly where I was going, so Jules stepped aside and allowed me to guide her down the hallway.
The light was already on in Jack’s office, and I gave a peremptory knock on the doorjamb before stepping inside. He waved us in without bothering to lift his head. I knew he was deliberately being casual. I guaranteed that before we even stepped foot inside his office, he knew it was us. Jack had an uncanny ability to tell from a person’s tread and presence who they were before he even saw them.
Emulating Jack’s casual demeanor, I stepped inside and took a seat in the chair farthest from the door, knowing instinctively that Jules would want the one nearest the exit. I watched Jules’s hands clench tightly in her lap as she settled on the edge of the seat.
I made quick introductions. “Jules, this is Jack Prescott, Briarleigh’s owner.” His lips quirked up in a tiny smile at my wording. I figured Mia would have something to say about that, considering she owned half the company as well. “Jack, this is Jules.”
He turned his dark gaze on Jules. “Nice to meet you.”
He didn’t stretch a hand out for her to shake; he didn’t make any movement at all. He just sat there, unimposing—as much as a man of Jack’s size could be—and studied her across the desk.
“You, as well.”
Sitting this close to her, I could hear the soft click of her nails as she picked at them. It was only vaguely gratifying to know that I wasn’t the only one to have this effect on her. Then, as if she’d been rebuked for it time and again, her hands curled into fights fists, then relaxed. I watched with mild curiosity as she pressed them flat on her thighs, affecting a graceful pose. I wondered if someone had admonished her for the bad habit in the past or if she was just hyperaware of her actions.
Acting as intermediary, I spoke up. “Jules is looking for a job. I thought maybe you could use her around here for a bit.”
I tacked on that last bit for both their sakes. She might run well before the lodge opened, or Jack might want rid of her.
He tipped his head in contemplation. “I’m sure we can find something for you. Do—”
The radio at my shoulder crackled to life, and I listened to dispatch rattle off the code for a domestic dispute. Jesus. I tossed an aggravated glance at Jack, who tipped his head imperceptibly at me. Glancing over at Jules, I met her wide green eyes. I was almost glad for the call, because part of me didn’t want to leave her side, though I knew I needed to. “I need to get on the road. I’ll be back around four to pick you up.” I stood and flicked a glance at Jack. “That good with you?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
With one more look at Jules, I headed out the door, forcing my feet to keep moving forward. I needed to push all thoughts of Jules from my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to go there—I wouldn’t.
I needed to get a handle on my emotions. She stirred something within me that felt like protectiveness but also a lot like possessiveness. And I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I wasn’t her protector, and I certainly wasn’t her boyfriend. Nothing could ever happen between us for a multitude of reasons—none of which I could remember at the moment.
Chapter 7
Giuliana
Suddenly, it was just the two of us. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room with Sheriff Donahue’s departure, and my pulse kicked up as I stared at the man sitting behind the desk. With dark hair and even darker eyes, he was intimidating though he hadn’t moved a muscle since I’d walked through the door. Maybe that was precisely why he was intimidating—he didn’t have to move. He didn’t have to tower over me or raise his voice. I knew just by watching his controlled facial expressions that he was dangerous. He was not a friendly person, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of him as Jack, as the sheriff had introduced him. I didn’t want that kind of familiarity with this man. He reminded me too much of the men I’d left behind in my previous life.
Though I didn’t fully trust the sheriff, I’d felt marginally better with him by my side. I steeled my spine and lifted my chin, mustering as much courage as possible. I refused to give him the advantage of seeing my discomfort.
Mr. Prescott pinned me with another intense stare. “How do you know Eric?”
My eyebrows drew together before it finally clicked—Eric was Sheriff Donahue. Oh, Lord. How to answer that one? “We... um... met at the Fox Hole.” One eyebrow lifted as Jack stared at me. “I was there last night when a fight broke out. I kind of... left,” I finished lamely.
“You don’t want to go back?”
I shook my head and mimicked Eric’s words from earlier. “It’s not really my style.”
Mr. Prescott leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands, resting the tips of his fingers against his mouth as he stared intently at me. “Have you ever done anything illegal?”
I shook my head vehemently. “No, sir.”
Not personally—not exactly. I figured that Sheriff Donahue would probably disagree, considering I was driving around without a license or valid registration for my car, but he thankfully hadn’t raised the issue again. I knew the sheriff saw too much, knew more about me than I’d offered up, yet he was still willing to help me get me this job, and I didn’t want to ruin it.
There was no way I would tell Mr. Prescott that I had familial ties to a notorious crime syndicate—that my father, in fact, had been its previous capo. Besides, they weren’t really my family anymore. All these years, I’d heard them speak of loyalty, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. The truth was that they wouldn’t hesitate to sell out one of their own. Daddy was barely cold in the ground before Uncle Massimo struck the deal with Nikolai.
Mr. Prescott waited a long moment before responding. “Is there anything else I should know?”
I knew what he was asking, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I wanted to leave that part of my life far behind me. I shook my head.
He gave me an appraising nod. “Should I assume that you do not have a bank account?”
I nodded but didn’t say a word. If there was anything I’d learned from my uncle, it was that everything was traceable. I couldn’t afford to put any money in a bank under my name. Opening an account would be like waving a giant red flag under Uncle Massimo’s nose.
Mr. Prescott’s chest lifted on an inhale, and I fought the urge to squirm. “As you can see, there are still some renovations going on. A lot of last-minute details will need to be taken care of before the soft opening here in a few weeks. Do you want as many hours as possible?” I nodded, and he continued. “Does dayshift work for you?”
I clasped my hands in front of me. “Yes, sir. That’s perfect.” I bit my lip, waiting for him to elaborate. He knew he couldn’t deposit a paycheck into my account, and I wondered how he planned to work around that.
As if reading my mind, he spoke up. “You’ll be paid at the end of each day in cash. Do you have somewhere to keep it safe?”
I pressed my lips together and thought it over. Right now, all I had to my name was the little Cavalier I’d driven up here. It wasn’t worth much, and I doubted anyone would try to steal it. For the time being, I could stash the money away inside. A car had plenty of hiding places if you just knew where to look for them. I met Mr. Prescott’s gaze again and lifted my chin. “I can take care of that.”
Deep brown eyes pierced mine, but he didn’t say anything. “Do you have any work experience?”
Shame welled up, hot and fierce. I had no training in anything to speak of, and I couldn’t tell him I got the job at the Fox Hole out of sheer pity. I’d never waited tables like normal teenagers, never really been outside my own home. I hadn’t even attended school; Daddy paid tutors to come to the house each day to provide an education in a variety of subjects, including various languages and ballet. Ultimately, I’d been groomed to be the perfect wife and no more.
Humiliation burned my cheeks, but I refused to break eye contact. “I’ve never had a job before, unless waitressing for two hours at the Fox Hole counts.”
He eyed me for a second. “So nothing in retail?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve done my fair share of shopping, so I might be able to help with that.”
“I would like to put you in charge of the pro shop, if that’s okay?”
I wasn’t really sure what that entailed, so I voiced my question. “What needs to be done with it?”
“Everything,” he responded. “The room has just been finished, but we haven’t installed the counter for the computer system yet. We’ll need to stock it and prepare it for customers.”
“Sounds good.”
He dipped his chin. “Let me show you around.”
Mr. Prescott stood and gestured for me to precede him out of the office. I paused in the hallway then followed him into the main area of the lodge. Under a great archway, the building split between the hotel portion and the great room for the ski lodge. Thick logs comprised the walls, and huge wooden beams stretched overhead, giving it a rustic yet elegant look. Mr. Prescott gave a brief tour of the kitchen and employee areas before returning us to the corridor.
Right at the intersection of the lodge and hotel was an open room that appeared to have been recently finished. Windows ran along both sides so th
e contents would be visible to people coming from either direction. Jack grasped a wrought-iron handle on the heavy wood door, and he held it open for me as we stepped inside. Metal shelving units had been installed along the walls, and circular clothing racks were stuck in the back corners, ready to be dragged out and filled with merchandise.
He propped his hands on his hips and turned to me. “This is the pro shop where we’ll have all the retail items. Right now, all of the inventory is out in the warehouse. I’ll introduce you to Summer in just a second. She works out in the rental shop and takes care of getting the inventory where it needs to go. Some of the stuff we’ll use as rentals, but the higher end stuff we’ll put here in the shop to sell.”
I nodded. That made sense. Mr. Prescott continued, “Soft open is in about three weeks, right after the first of the year, so you should have plenty of time to get everything set up.”
I looked around the space again, mentally calculating. The space was only about six hundred square feet, but the metal rails on the walls would allow for plenty of modifications. I met Mr. Prescott’s eyes. “Do you have a specific guideline you’d like me to follow?”
He shook his head. “Just make it look nice.”
As I gazed around the room, I contemplated Lila’s shop back in Chicago.
Jack eyed me critically. “What do you think?”
“Well,” I began slowly, “personally, I think I would place the cash register along the left wall. It allows for good flow, plus you can keep an eye on both the entrance and the fitting rooms.”
He nodded approvingly. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll get one of the guys in here today to get the cabinets installed, but the computers are still all packed up. What I’d like for you to do is draw up a plan and start getting stuff organized and displayed.”
That was easy enough.
“Let me introduce you to Summer.”
I followed Jack out of the pro shop and down a short hallway that exited outside. The small flagstone pathway had been cleared off, and we crossed it to enter the rental shop. Counters lined the exterior wall of the space so that customers could follow the line through the building as they collected their skis, poles, and boots, which were stored on the huge metal racks in the middle of the room.