Nope. The giddiness that was quickly setting in blotted out every levelheaded cell she possessed.
“Nobody knows. Apparently, she just inked a deal to come run the kitchen in the restaurant they’re rebuilding on the west side of the resort. It’s part of some mission to restore the place to its former glory. I guess the old one was doing as badly as the room service, so the resort is overhauling the restaurant in the lull between ski season and the summer rush. Did you know a lot of people come for the spa and the lake when it’s nice out?” Jenna motioned for Bellamy to move over so she could sit down next to her, and Bellamy relegated her pile of notes to the nightstand as she shook her head.
Jenna continued. “Anyhow. This little soiree is like an added bonus, sort of a kickoff party for her to introduce the new menu she’s planning to incorporate. But she wanted to keep her move on the down-low for some reason, so they didn’t really publicize things. Apparently, her husband . . . uh . . . what’s-his-name . . .”
“Travis,” Bellamy supplied. “They do the cable show together. He’s really good-looking.”
“Yeah! Well, he’s running the restaurant in New York and she’s coming here, so maybe that has to do with why it’s hush-hush. Except for those of us who know event coordinators.” Jenna winked with a sly grin. “Everyone else just thinks it’s some private party, like a wedding.”
Bellamy shook her head in shock, convinced she’d taken up residence in some alternate universe where the world included things like tasting Carly di Matisse’s minestrone soup. Not just her recipe, mind you. But food the chef had prepared with her own two hands.
No way.
“Oh my God, do you realize that right now it’s quite possible I am breathing the same air as Carly-fricking-di Matisse?” Bellamy couldn’t help it. The maniacal laugh she’d been trying to suppress flew out as she channeled some serious twelve-year-old-girl vibes from the depths of her adult psyche. Considering the shit factor of her week, it was about time karma showed her a little love.
Holly laughed and climbed onto the bed, sandwiching Bellamy in. “Well, we figured it was going to be the only way we’d get a decent meal around here. Plus, if anybody deserves a break from the crap parade, it’s you.”
“Are you kidding? If anything will make me forget the kiss-and-diss, it’s definitely these.” She went to hold up the tickets in a jubilant wave, only to see both of her friends staring at her with enough wide-eyed oh really to sink a ship.
Well, crap.
“Looks like the boss from hell isn’t the only thing putting your panties in a kink,” Jenna noted, waiting. The irony of her words caught in Bellamy’s chest. Forget a kink, her panties had been downright double-knotted. In the best possible way.
Right up until Shane lame-excused her all the way home.
“It’s really nothing,” she started, and both friends opened their mouths to throw the bullshit flag at the same time. “Okay!” Bellamy held up her hands. She knew when she’d been beat. “It’s really nothing major,” she amended.
“Look, sweetie, I know you’ve had a rough week, so if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
Damn it. This really was a dream. “Are you serious?” Bellamy asked, looking at Holly as if she’d sprouted wings or something else equally ludicrous.
“Nah. Spill it before I lose my marbles!”
Bellamy sighed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she hadn’t been able to keep her thoughts from Shane since she’d walked away from him in a huff last night. A well-deserved huff, but still. Maybe if she talked about it, she’d be able to let it go and really enjoy her evening.
Twenty minutes and a giant bag of chocolate chip cookies later, she’d gotten the whole story out, and the only thing she felt was her jeans size going up.
“Wow. He really said that to you?” Holly shook her head in a wordless paraphrase of what a dumbass.
Bellamy’s nod sent a wisp of hair from the loose knot on top of her head. “Yup. Not that it really matters in the grander scheme of things.” Except that she was twelve hours removed from the whole thing and it still burned. Worse than when Derek had said it, which was just plain weird.
“Oh my God, you like him.”
Jenna’s weird sixth sense for this kind of thing reared its perceptive little head, and Bellamy gave herself a mental kick in the ass for opening her yap in the first place.
“I don’t like him.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
She continued, ignoring the little whisper in her head. “And the feeling is mutual, obviously. So now that we’re all up to speed on my abysmal love life, or lack thereof, can we drop the whole thing? In fact, it would really make my day if I could just pretend that Shane Griffin didn’t exist.”
As Bellamy brushed the cookie crumbs from her hands and marched her no-nonsense self to the bathroom to start getting ready for her evening, she came to the realization that just because you liked to lay it all out on the table didn’t mean you couldn’t bend the truth while you were doing it.
Shane had been awake and ignoring Monday morning for twenty minutes before his alarm clock went off, and he brushed his palm over it to silence the beeping. He thought about going for a good, long run to boil off some of the frustration that had been mounting for days now, but the one he’d taken last night did nothing but move his blood through his body, and given the state of things, he wasn’t sure that was the best plan.
God, he’d wanted to do more than kiss Bellamy. A lot more. And didn’t that just make lying in bed all by his lonesome nice and uncomfortable. He needed to get up and get in the shower before he admitted that what he really needed was to get laid.
Maybe that run wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
His boxers and T-shirt offered little protection from the January cold lingering inside the walls of the log cabin he’d rented since moving to Pine Mountain. The place was small, just the one bedroom and what Shane guessed qualified as mostly a kitchen, although it was really more like a stove, an ancient fridge and a sink crammed in one corner. He crossed the threshold of his bedroom door and made it to the coffeepot in less than five strides, scooping enough grinds to jump-start a rhino into the filter before filling the pot to brew.
There was no room for a couch in the cramped living space, but he had the well-worn recliner and a TV, which suited him just fine. With all the time Shane spent at the garage or running on the trails around the cabin, everything else was basically an afterthought, anyway. Except for the afterthought that had set up residence in his frontal lobe and refused to budge, leaving sultry memories of a velvet laugh and a pair of oh so provocative lips on his . . .
Strike the run. What Shane needed was a nice, cold shower. One that lasted until Bellamy Blake had her keys in her hand and her body behind the wheel of her runs-like-a-dream sports car. Because both times he’d kissed her, it had proven that his gut instinct was spot-on. A girl like her was bad for him, period.
No matter how good a kisser she was.
Shane compromised with his libido and took a lukewarm shower, but promised himself to keep the image of Bellamy out of his head, especially when he wasn’t dressed. He didn’t seem to have much control over his parts when it came to the thought of her, and he knew if even one tiny flicker snuck its way into the shower with him, his resolve to not call her or see her would resemble burnt toast.
After getting dressed, he rummaged through the pitiful contents of the lone cupboard over the sink. A couple of apples went into a bag, and he grabbed a pre-made turkey sub, courtesy of the deli at Joe’s, from the fridge. It wasn’t much, but it’d do for him and Grady. Shane turned the collar of his jacket up, but he was greeted with a blast of icy air that shot right through him as if he were wearing nothing but swim trunks and a smile.
“Damn,” he muttered. The temperature must have dropped about ten degrees from yesterday, and the unforgiving wind was back with a vengeance. The F150 protested the trip, warming up just in t
ime for Shane to pull into the side lot of the garage. He’d been there for all of five minutes when a familiar voice snapped him out of his morning routine.
“Hey, I was driving by on my way to work and saw your truck. I’m surprised you’re here.” Jackson rubbed his hands together, stomping the cold from his boots as he entered the garage.
“Why wouldn’t I be here? It’s Monday. I’ve got a little more work to do on that Miata, plus I’ve gotta make sure the order for the parts is on its way.” Shane creased his brow. Why did Jackson look so shocked?
“Dude, do you live under a rock, or what? That massive snowstorm that was supposed to stall out in the Ohio Valley changed course and picked up a ton of steam. We’re going to get dumped on, starting any minute now.”
Well, that explained the look on Jackson’s face. Shit. “I’ve got to call Grady and make sure he’s tight.”
“I saw him last night at Joe’s, along with everybody else in town,” Jackson said. “Looked like he had enough to tide him over.”
Shane exhaled. Grady was no stranger to Blue Ridge winters, but still. Shane didn’t want him stuck with empty cupboards. “You’re heading out, then?”
Jackson cracked a grin. “Hell, yes, although this one’s going to be a bitch. Mix of ice and snow, and the wind is supposed to get downright nasty.” He paused to shudder. “Still, working for a plowing company this time of year, it’s like nickels and dimes falling from the sky, baby. Bring on the snow, I say.”
“Yeah, I’d better get some salt out. Bet we’ll get a couple of people who need hauling out from ditches.” This was standard winter fare in the mountains. Shane walked over to the bags of salt and sand they kept stored on the far wall of the garage.
“I’ve got a little time before I have to check in, if you want help,” Jackson offered, tossing his cell phone and his wallet on the workbench and rolling up his sleeves.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Let me call Grady and tell him to stay put. It looks like we’re going to be in for a long haul.”
Bellamy burrowed deeply under the luxurious down comforter on her bed, cocooning herself in blissful warmth as she woke up slowly with a big, fat grin on her face. She, Holly, and Jenna spent hours stuffing themselves silly with bite after bite of Carly di Matisse’s pure culinary magic. To top it all off, Chase had come through in flying colors, arranging a little meet-and-greet at the end of the night that had Bellamy halfway to the breathing-into-a-paper-bag route. Carly had been so nice, and even graciously listened to Bellamy babble on about how she’d made the “couples special” cedar-plank salmon for her parents’ special anniversary dinner, complete with the haricots verts and garlic-roasted fingerling potatoes.
No doubt about it, Bellamy’d had the night of her life and things were getting back to good. Or they would be, if only she could find the source of whatever was giving up that incessant beeping noise and make it go far, far away. She fumbled for the alarm clock, wondering what had possessed her to set it in the first place.
Oh, wait. It was her cell phone that was chiming away like a church choir, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. She yanked it under the pillow to meet her ear, trying her best not to mumble. “Hello?”
“Bellamy, we’ve had a change of plans. I’m going to need the Anderson contract this afternoon.”
Well good morning to you, too, O Mighty Ruler of the Underworld. “I’m, um, not in until tomorrow,” Bellamy replied, trying to get her bearings and wipe the sleep from her eyes.
Bosszilla’s voice made nails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony, and the dreamy memory of Bellamy’s night shrank into the recesses of her mind.
“Well the world doesn’t stop just because you’ve decided to skip town. The client wants to move forward, and I’m not inclined to say no.”
Bellamy dragged a deep breath into her lungs, cursing herself for looking at the yogi’s ass yesterday rather than paying attention to what he’d said about finding her inner Zen. “There was no rush on this when you gave it to me last week, and a lot of the legwork is already done, but—”
“Well, the deadline is close of business today. You’re not giving me a whole lot of choice here.” The icy implication hung between them.
Bellamy’s brain finally kicked into gear. “Why didn’t you just tell me you needed it sooner? I’d have prepared it before I left if I’d known you were going to need it so fast.” She pushed the covers from her legs, swinging her feet to the carpet.
“What are you implying?” Bosszilla’s tone hit arctic levels.
“I’m not implying anything.” Bellamy reached for a deep breath, anger welling in her chest to cancel out any last remnants of euphoria from the night before. “I’m just saying—”
Her boss cut her off again. “What you’re doing is wasting time, and frankly, I’m sick of these little games. I’m telling you I need that presentation on my desk, complete, by close of business today. Unless you’re interested in coming back to clean out your desk.”
Something thick and hot snapped from the anger in Bellamy’s chest, pushing the words out of her mouth before she could rope them back in. “If you needed that contract reviewed so quickly, you should’ve said so in the first place, rather than dropping the ball and pinning your ineptitude on me.” Momentum coursed through her, double-dog-daring her to speak her mind, and the feeling that swirled like an ominous wind in her gut spilled out with the words. “You want that thing by COB today? Then roll up your sleeves and do it yourself, because I quit,” she ground out, pitching her phone onto the bed with a satisfying whump.
Her gratification lasted for all of six seconds, and then she realized what she’d done. Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God.
She’d quit her job.
“Bellamy? Are you okay? We heard you from the hallway.” Holly stopped short as she rushed into the room, clad in her pajamas and a very worried expression that only got deeper when she saw Bellamy’s face.
“I, uh. I don’t think so. I just quit my job.” She sank to the carpet, dread washing over every inch of her. What had she done?
“Are you kidding me?” Jenna breathed, standing wide-eyed in the doorway behind Holly.
Bellamy shook her head weakly. “No.” Her mind reeled, so many thoughts flying around that not one of them had a prayer of sticking. She took a deep breath and blurted out a recap before she could lose her nerve, but the retelling only instilled more panic.
“Okay, honey. This is going to be okay.” Holly went into red-alert crisis mode, sitting down on the carpet next to Bellamy and taking her hand.
Her stomach lurched. “How is this going to be okay? I quit my job, Holly. What am I going to do now?” Bellamy’s brain went right back to the spin-cycle, refusing to let her string together any more thoughts than that.
“You’re going to find another job, that’s what.” Jenna’s blunt words made a chink in Bellamy’s spiraling dread, and she blinked up at her friend.
“Bellamy, listen to me. This is not the end of the world, okay?” Jenna knelt down to look Bellamy in the eye. “Look, we’ll go home tonight, and you can think it through. If you feel like you made a mistake, you can go from there, maybe file a complaint with the VP. It’s not like Bosszilla’s behavior didn’t warrant some kind of reaction from you. She all but strong-armed you into it, for Chrissake. Plus, your track record speaks for itself, and it’ll go a long way toward giving you options.” Her calm, controlled voice brought Bellamy’s sheer terror down a notch, but just barely.
“Is one of my options to throw up?”
“I guess if you need to. Just watch my slippers, would you?”
She loved Jenna more than words right now.
Tears sprang to Bellamy’s eyes, and she swallowed hard as she did her best to blink them away. Jenna was right. This wasn’t the end of the world. It couldn’t be.
Oh, God, how was she going to get another job with the words hissy fit stamped across the top of her résumé?
All three
women jumped at the unmistakable sound of Bellamy’s phone ringing from where it lay half buried on the duvet. Bellamy dropped her face to her hands, unable to think clearly yet.
“I can’t talk to her right now, honestly. Please, just turn the damn thing off.”
Holly sprang into action, plucking the phone from the bed. “I’ve got you covered,” she said, scooping up the phone to take it away.
“Bellamy, I mean it. You’re a tough cookie. This is going to be okay.” Jenna sat down next to the spot where Bellamy slumped against the bed frame with her elbows propped on her knees.
She gave up a tiny nod that looked more like the tremble of her chin than anything else. “I know, it’s just . . .” Bellamy’s words died out as she caught sight of Holly’s expression, both puzzled and reticent. “What?” Jeez. Bosszilla couldn’t have cleaned out Bellamy’s desk that quickly, could she? An image of all her stuff scattered across the city block where the bank’s offices stood flashed across her mind, and she felt a wave of panic swoop in for the kill.
“No. Uh, it wasn’t your boss.” Holly exchanged a glance with Jenna so quickly that Bellamy might have missed it. Except she knew that look from a mile away. It was a warning look that things were about to get worse.
How could life possibly get worse?
“It was Grady’s Garage. And whoever called left a message.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Hi, you’ve reached the voice mailbox of Bellamy Blake. I’m not available right now . . .”
Jesus. Even prerecorded, she sounded hot as hell.
Shane shifted uncomfortably in the archaic desk chair in the office, watching the steady snowfall on the other side of the frost-edged windowpanes. As Bellamy’s voice mail let out a soft beep, he straightened in his seat as if she could see him.
“Hey, Bellamy, it’s, ah, Shane, from the garage.” Right. Because she knows so many Shanes. Idiot. “I’m afraid I have some bad news about your transmission.” His eyes flicked over the information he’d gotten from the distributor’s website, and he frowned. “I know I promised you I’d be done by Friday, but I’ve run into a bit of a problem. So just call me when you get this. I’ll be at the garage.” Shane left the number, then pressed the button on the cordless to end the call. He knew she was already pretty irritated, and this wasn’t going to do anything to make him more endearing, but it’s not like he had any say in the matter.
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