“Stone, really, I will be okay.”
“I know you will, Ma. But I’m paying the boys to keep up things around here, so let them do their jobs, alright? You can even feed them, if it makes you feel better about it.”
She smiled at me, and knowing how much she loved to bake, I figured those Berkshire boys would be happy as pigs in mud to come here and load up their bellies.
Si and I finished our meals and helped with the dishes, then he said his goodbyes and headed back to his place. He had some things to look after for the Austin hotel before he could come to Las Vegas and oversee the completion of the casino project with me. He’d be a week, maybe two, before he could fly out.
I packed the last of my things into my suitcase and loaded up my truck. Mom sat quietly beside me as I drove to the airport, her hands in her lap, and I just knew she was working up to a speech. Eleanor Montgomery always gave great speeches.
“Now, Stone,” she started, and I tried to suppress my grin. “I want you to be patient with your father.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. If there was one topic my mother and I did not agree on it was Harold Pennington. “He’s a good man, Stone, and you deserve to get to know him as such.”
“Mom, I-”
“No,” she said sternly, surprising me. My mother rarely raised her voice to me. She was always gentle and calm. “I want you to listen to me, just this once, Stone. You shut down conversation about your father every time I try to bring it up, but I’m gonna say my piece now, and you’ll hear me.” I could feel her eyes on my face as I drove, unable to make eye contact because my anger was boiling again. Rather than snap back at her, I simply nodded for her to continue. “What happened between Harold and me is just that; between Harold and me. I know you have always felt it was your job to defend me and my honor, and I appreciate that, but the choices your father and I made were our own. They have never affected how he felt about you as his son. He loves you, Stone. And if you’d let him, he’d like to show you that.”
Taking a deep breath, I considered her words. True, Harold Pennington had never done anything but try to be a good dad. Even being away in New York, he always remembered my birthday, always called to ask about school and football and girls. He came to Texas as often as he could, as often as his marriage and family and work would allow. He asked every summer if I wanted to visit him and my half-sisters in Manhattan and my stubborn ass would decline every time out of pure spite.
But he was getting older now, and maybe ma was right. If I wanted a chance to get to know him, I would have to decide quickly, before life and father time took the decision from me.
“I can’t promise you anything more than that I’ll try, Ma,” I conceded, finally glancing her way and seeing the watery shine in her eyes.
“Thank you, baby. That’s all I’m asking.” I reached over and took her hand, bringing it to my lips for a quick kiss.
We reached the Austin airport and I hugged her goodbye, promising to call when I got to Nevada. I also made her promise to call me when she got back to the ranch so that I knew she’d made it alright. Then I watched as she climbed behind the wheel of the truck and drove away, my chest strangely tight. I loved that woman more than words could say. I’d have to threaten the Berkshire boys again, make sure they did right by her while I was gone.
Six hours later, after a brief stopover in Dallas, I found myself stomping my way through the concourse of McCarran International Airport. I was hot and sweaty and my legs were achy from being stuffed into a too small seat. All I wanted to do was get to the house and have a shower. Harold was offering up use of his own home while I was in town, and I liked the idea of a quiet space rather than being smack dab in the middle of the action on the Strip.
I was hauling my suitcase and making for the exit when the sound of raised voices caught my attention. Over near the baggage claim inquiry desk, a woman was getting more and more agitated with the staff. She was wearing jeans and a dress shirt, her blonde hair in a bun, and steam practically coming out of her ears. As I passed by, she stepped backward and turned, running directly into my chest, exploding her hot coffee all over the both of us.
Shit. What a way to start this job. Now I was pissed. Again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Penelope
“Can you please check again?” I begged, looking at the bored man behind the desk. I had waited almost an hour at the baggage carousel, pacing and drinking too much coffee, but my suitcase never arrived. “It was a direct flight. How could it be missing?”
“Ma’am,” he droned, the apathy in his nasally voice telling me he really didn’t care about my predicament at all. “If you’ll just fill this out, when your bag does show up, we will have it delivered to your location.”
“But everything I own is in that bag!” I exclaimed, raising my voice. I usually tried to be kind to service people, knowing just how hard they work, having worked minimum wage jobs for years myself. But the man, Trip, according to his name tag, was being so callous, I could hardly handle it. Didn’t he realize what a disaster this was? How was I supposed work with only the clothes I had on? There was no way I had the budget to go shopping and replace things. “Can you please check again? Please?” I implored.
Trip let out an exasperated sigh, clicked on his keyboard a few times, then rolled his eyes back up to me. “It’s the same, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ma’am!” I practically shouted, surprising even myself. I had to get a grip here, or they would have airport security on me soon. Taking a sip of my too hot coffee, my third since I had arrived in Las Vegas, I took the form Trip had offered and wrote down the address Angelique had provided for Mr. Pennington’s house in Summerlin South. Sliding the paper back to Trip, I watched as he took it and quickly set it beside his keyboard, already looking at the person in line behind me, and promptly forgetting about my desperate plight.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my coffee and my carry-on bag and spun from the desk in a huff, only to smack into someone. Hard.
The hand holding my coffee was trapped between us, crushing the cup and spraying both of us in a shower of scalding caffeine. Dropping my bag and stepped back, trying to hold the hot shirt away from my chest so it would stop burning my skin. I looked up at the person I had crashed in to, prepared to apologize profusely, but the words caught in my throat when I saw him.
He was tall, much taller than I was, and so broad it seemed like he was the only thing I could see. He wore jeans and a dark button-down shirt, tucked in, and a belt with a huge buckle. His dark hair peeked out beneath a black cowboy hat, a days worth of stubble graced his cheeks, and I couldn’t remember when I had ever seen a better looking man. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to voice my apology, my throat frozen like the air was trapped in my lungs as my whole body began to tingle. Even just looking at him had me feeling like someone had zapped me with a live wire. I had to get a grip.
The gorgeous cowboy didn’t seem to be similarly affected. His scowl was dark as he glared down at me, his hazel eyes burning with anger as he shook his hands to rid them of the spilled beverage. When I continued to remain mute, he curled his lip in disgust and snapped, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Shocked, I raised my eyebrows and asked, “Excuse me?”
“What, are you deaf as well as dumb?”
Seriously? What was this guys problem? “It was an accident,” I tried, shaking my shirt to try to cool the coffee enough to let it touch my skin again.
“Listen, blondie,” he sneered. My eyes widened. Was this guy for real? “Maybe if you were more worried about where you were going and less about your designer clothes, you wouldn’t have crashed into me.”
“Hang on, now,” I started, but he was already walking away, dragging his massive suit case behind him. “Save it. I don’t have time for your bullshit excuses. Just learn to pay attention.” He tossed back over his shoulder, his work-dirty boots thumping on the floor as he passed through the doors and out of sight. I st
ared after him in shock for a moment, before the cooling mess on my shirt reminded me that not only did I no longer have my precious coffee, but now I had a massive stain on my only freaking shirt.
I flagged down an airport staff member to let them know about the mess on the floor, then I headed into the nearest bathroom to assess the damage.
And damaged I was. The entire right half of my white shirt was soaked in dark brown coffee. I quickly removed it, eying the redness of my chest and neck at the same time. Burnt, but not badly. More like a scald than a burn, with the skin a little sensitive to the touch, but nothing I was really worried about. Standing in the public bathroom in just my bra (which also had a nice coffee stain on the right boob, thank you very much, Mr. Grumpy Cowboy), I proceeded to run the blouse under cold water. I rinsed it several times, and while it was still stained, it was a bit better than it was before. After wringing it out, I held it under the hand dryer for what felt like hours until it was dry enough to wear again.
Putting it back on and looking in the mirror, I realized I was a disaster. Still make up free from my rush this morning, both my cheeks and my eyes were red. My hair was falling out of the bun and the stain on my shirt was still prominent. I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Tucking my shirt back into my still slightly damp skinny jeans, I checked the time on my phone and was shocked to see that I was due at the hotel for the meeting with Mr. Montgomery, my boss here on this project, in less than half an hour.
I didn’t know much about Mr. Montgomery, other than he was regional manager for Pennington Hotels south west. He had a reputation of being difficult to work for, but I had a reputation for being pleasant and mostly agreeable, so I figured we would be just fine.
Dashing out of the bathroom, I ran outside and flagged down a taxi. Having never been to Las Vegas before, or anywhere, for that mater, I couldn’t help but stare around in wonder as my taxi had driven along the busy streets. There were colors and sights and sounds and smells everywhere. I hoped this initial meeting would be over quickly, because I could not wait to take my first wander around.
Twenty-seven minutes after I left the airport, I was pulling up to the doors of the Pennington Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas.
To say it was huge was an understatement. I recalled the details form the fact sheet Angelique emailed me, a short list of items to know about the project before I arrived. The property itself consisted of thirty acres of prime real estate on Las Vegas Boulevard. The buildings were spread across the area, with a huge circular drive way leading up to the main doors. There was no landscaping yet, and the frontage of the building was mostly plain. I knew this was by design in a hope to keep the theme secret until the last possible moment. There were over three thousand guest rooms and suites, with a massive casino covering over one hundred thousand square feet. A multi-purpose business and conference center was built at the back portion of the property, with the pools and recreational areas in between. There were restaurants and theater spaces as well as several bars and two concert venues on site. It was a true testament to human innovation that places like this could be build in the middle of a predominately empty desert.
Paying the driver, I gathered my purse and my carry on, the sum total of my belongings here, and headed for the conference building at the back. According to Angelique’s email, the hotel was not ready but the business center was. This was intentional, as that building housed all the administrative offices and would be where I was based for the duration of the project.
My heels clacked against the marble floor as I entered the building. I was immediately approached by a woman who was probably ten years older than me. She looked focused and a bit annoyed, but was dressed professionally and moved with purpose.
“Miss Lund?” she asked briskly. I nodded, and she motioned to the elevator at the back of the lobby. “This way please. Mr. Montgomery is waiting. The meeting was due to start thirty minutes ago.”
“What? No,” I gasped, my heart rate increasing. “The email from Angelique said two o’clock. It’s just two now.” We hurried into the elevator and she pressed the button for the third floor.
“There was an addendum sent out an hour ago, moving the meeting up. Mr. Montgomery wanted to leave early to attend other business.”
“I have just come from the airport. I haven’t checked my emails since I landed.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised, as if to ask how any of this was her problem. The elevator moved upwards, my anxiety climbing with it. This was not good. No way to make a good impression by being half an hour late on the first day. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I listened to her give me details.
“My name is Moira, and I will be the liaison on this project between you and Mr. Pennington in New York. If you have any concerns that Mr. Montgomery can’t help you with, any requests, or any ideas that need to address, you are to bring them to me first. Is that clear?”
My brain wanted to say ‘Yes, Ma’am,” responding to her like the drill sergeant she seemed to be, but I managed to hold it in, instead giving her a solemn nod.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Moira hurried out into another lobby then past a reception desk and across an open space, stopping before a set of wide double doors. She turned to look at me, running her eyes over my messy hair, my naked face, and my stained shirt. She pursed her lips in judgment, but kept her thoughts to herself. Meeting my eyes one last time, she said “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that ominous parting statement, she opened the doors and motioned me inside.
The rumble of voices halted as I stepped into the conference room. There was a large oblong table, surrounded by a dozen or so high-backed leather office chairs. Seated around the table were five men in suits and one women, who was impeccably dressed, her long black hair in a sleek and stylish low ponytail, her eyes narrowed, gazing at me like I was something unpleasant she had stepped in. Did everyone in this town throw dirty looks around like confetti?
I ducked my head, preparing to move to an empty seat, when a low chuckle from the front of the room drew my attention.
“Well, well, well. We meet again, Blondie.”
No. Impossible.
There is no way that this would be Mr. Montgomery.
Of all the rotten luck. Why would the universe curse me this way?
I froze mid step, and turned my head to look at the man standing at the front of the room next to the projector screen.
He had changed since the airport. Must be nice to have actually gotten your bags.
He now wore a tailored black suit with a smoke gray button down underneath, opened at the neck with no tie in sight. The cowboy hat and boots were gone, replaced with shiny shoes and a hair cut that looked like it cost more than my weekly grocery budget. He had shaved, as well, his strong square jaw now smooth and highlighting the natural tan of his skin. If I thought he was good looking before, this confirmed it. He was a god in either his suit or his jeans.
I kind of hated him for it.
I kept up hope that this was a mistake, that it wasn’t the jerk from the great coffee caper standing in this board room. There was no mistaking the hazel eyes, though, and they stared at me in malicious glee.
“Nice of you to join us. Miss Lund, is it? So pleased you could grace us with your presence. I hope we aren’t keeping you from anything important.” His comment drew quiet chuckles from around the table, the woman in particular smiling at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She reminded me of Constance, and I knew my dislike of her was growing thanks to that comparison. I glanced around the room, feeling my cheeks redden.
“No, Mr. Montgomery. Of course not.” I continued on and found a seat. “Just a little trouble at the airport,” I said, not wanting to go down without a fight. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I met his glare with one of my own. He stared me down for a second longer before someone at the table cleared their throat. It was the woman with the cold eyes.
“If we coul
d please continue,” she drawled, turning to face Mr. Montgomery, her face lighting like he was some sort of celebrity.
“Of course, Miss Carlisle, and my apologies for the rude interruption.” Montgomery drawled, making me think the cowboy thing was real, as his gentle accent definitely sounded like he came from the south somewhere. Miss Carlisle beamed at him, then looked around the table.
“As I was saying, I will be leaving for Japan next week. My time will be spent between Tokyo and Osaka, and then from there I will head to Beijing, then Hong Kong. Following that will be Moscow, Cairo, Dubai, and then on to London, and finally New York.” She smirked at me, clearly proud of her busy passport, inflating her self-importance. “I will be back one month before opening with confirmations from our whales.”
“Whales?” I asked, before I could think better of interrupting. Again.
Montgomery sighed. “Yes, Miss Lund. Whales. Did you not read your briefing package? A whale is a common term for a very wealthy hotel guest. They are our most lucrative and desirable visitors.”
“I did not receive a briefing package, Mr. Montgomery. Angelique only emailed me the travel documents and a point form project summary.”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “So you have no idea what we are talking about? You literally do not know any information about this hotel or casino? What are you even doing here, Miss Lund, besides wasting our time?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but was saved when another man spoke up.
“I have extra packages right here, Mr. Montgomery. I would be happy to stay with Miss Lund and review all the pertinent information.” He practically bounced in his chair, eager as a puppy, and smiled at me. At least someone was happy I was here.
“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. It’s nice to see at least some of my executive staff is both ambitious and prepared.” He leveled me with a pointed glare, letting me and everyone else in the room know that I was the only one who had shown up with nothing today. “Now, moving on.” And with that, Mr. Montgomery dismissed me completely, continuing with his discussion of the status of the food and beverage department.
The Cowboy and the Bombshell Page 4