Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2)

by Kella Campbell

  The Wildforest emergency procedure for impending or threatened travel safety risks was to let guests know that traveling to and from the resort may become unsafe or impossible, so they’d have the option to leave while it was still possible, with no early departure charges, plus a voucher for a free night’s future stay at any Wildforest vacation property. The manual didn’t say what to do if any guests decided to stay on — but who would? Being trapped at a resort with no road access wouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a fun adventure.

  François and Mary nodded their agreement, having been at their jobs long enough that they’d experienced the situation before. They seemed relieved that she was taking the textbook course of action. “We’ve never had a supervisor on-site during a flood warning before,” Mary said. “Harry, the site manager before Jessalyn, he used to like to tell the guests himself when we had a weather or safety issue.”

  “Right. Well, no sense in wasting time, and they’re all here in the dining room. I’ll go talk to them.” All four of them. At least it wasn’t a full house. That made it less of a disaster, somehow.

  “Want me to do it for you?” Eamonn offered.

  “That’s a good idea,” said François. “A man’s confidence is reassuring to the guests in these situations.”

  Nell gave him, and all of them for good measure, a deadly look. “I’m good. My confidence is quite up to the task, even though I don’t have a penis. But you can come along to back me up, if you like.”

  She heard a snort of suppressed laughter from Eamonn as she turned on her heel and moved off. “Did you just say ‘even though I don’t have a penis’ to François?” he asked under his breath.

  “A penis isn’t required for confidence, or competence.”

  She thought she heard him mutter an infuriatingly sarcastic “Yes, ma’am” to that, which made her ponder the exact moves it would take to have him on the floor with a knee on his back and his arm in a lock that would let him know exactly how much confidence and competence she had. Such a pity that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

  “You’re only coming with me in case any of our guests are as doubtful of my abilities as François and Mary apparently are. In case you need to mansplain things for me,” she snapped. Then she took a calming breath. It wasn’t Eamonn’s fault. She’d expected him to act like a jerk, to laugh with François — but he didn’t. “I’m going to call it right now: the honeymooners will jump at the chance to go home early and christen their bed as a married couple, and the Princes will be difficult until we give them an extra voucher or a bottle of champagne to take home… both, probably.”

  Eamonn laughed, a deep chuckle that made Nell want to purr. “I never bet on a sure outcome, babe. Let’s go so you can do your thing.”

  She was right. Of course she was.

  Mrs. Prince crossed her arms, with a dissatisfied twist to her mouth and an ever-so-slightly calculating glint in her eyes. “A voucher for just one night isn’t much compensation for having to leave early. I mean, we’re not likely to drive all this way another time just to stay the single night, are we? Is that the idea behind the policy — to hope we either leave the voucher unused or pay for more nights to go with it?”

  Probably, yes. Nell fought the urge to say the words aloud.

  Eamonn stood slightly behind her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she heard him snicker. “Very likely,” he muttered, just loud enough for the Princes to hear. Craptastic.

  “My assistant Eamonn has been with the company less than a week and is just being a smartass.” He’d wisely shifted out of reach, so she couldn’t jab him with her elbow.

  But Mrs. Prince’s eyes had fixed on Eamonn’s all-too-recognizable face. “Say, do I recognize you from somewhere…? Are you…?” Her voice trailed off.

  Nell waited for him to switch on his Easy persona, to flash that charming smile and take over the conversation. Why yes, and aren’t you sweet to recognize me, darling…

  But he didn’t. “People often say that,” he mumbled. As Nell turned to look at him, he waved a dismissive hand, and a red flush crept up his neck. “I guess I look like some pop star.”

  Embarrassed? Oh. She’d introduced him as her assistant with the company — and no plausible way to backpedal on that. He wouldn’t want to be recognized here, like this, with the inevitable questions that would come and the gossip that would follow. Nell took pity on him. “Fortunately, I have the discretion to offer a second voucher. Would two nights’ stay make the drive worthwhile, Mrs. Prince?”

  The woman pursed her lips, considering. “I don’t know…”

  Considering whether she can wring anything more out of us by pretending to hesitate. Nell gave Mrs. Prince an artificially benign smile. That’s enough. “Of course, you’re not obliged to leave at all. If the flood warning for the freeway doesn’t worry you, you’re more than welcome to stay for the full visit you booked — and there’d be no need for a return visit. Or vouchers.”

  She heard a snort from Eamonn, just as Mrs. Prince huffed and said, “Well. I don’t want to be stuck here. Two nights’ vouchers will do. And our package included a bottle of champagne with each night’s stay. Do we get tomorrow’s bottle to take with us?”

  The smug look on Mrs. Prince’s face as she got into her car, clutching her bottle of champagne, galled Nell a little. But being right about her sort of made up for it. And giving the honeymooners a totally unexpected and appreciated bottle of champagne too — in the interest of fairness — felt good.

  The rain and wind had picked up to an alarming degree by midafternoon. “Time to go,” Nell said to François and Mary. “You both live off-site, right? Do you have far to drive?”

  “I live in Omak — it’s about an hour away,” Mary said. “He has a place in Twisp.”

  The cook shrugged. “Fifteen minutes, more or less. Where are you going? Back to Seattle now?”

  “Eamonn can do as he pleases, but I’m staying. Company policy, unless the site itself is in actual danger, and it’s not.” Nell braced herself for their worries and protests. A woman alone, and all that.

  But François had his mind on the food in his kitchen. “You’ll have plenty to eat — too much, eh? Mary, you must take some meals with you. Nell, if the power goes out, you must get the generator going right away or everything in the freezer will be lost.” His efficient hands were packaging and labeling portions of food as he talked. Some he loaded into bags for himself and Mary, and the rest went into the fridge. “Beef stew, maple salmon, chicken pot pie, pulled pork… these will all go bad if they’re not eaten. I’ve put heating and preparation instructions on the containers for you. Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”

  “We’ll take good care of your kitchen, François,” Eamonn said. “You just get home while the roads are still good.”

  As Mary and François headed to their cars, Mary turned back with a quizzical expression on her face. “Eamonn, I feel like I know you from somewhere…”

  “Well, maybe you do, sugar. Let me know if you remember, all right?” Eamonn waved her off with a laugh, which Nell thought sounded a little forced. A gust of wind slammed the back door of the kitchen as soon as François let go of it, leaving Eamonn and Nell alone.

  “You should go too,” Nell said at once. “You’ve got a solid truck and you’re a good driver. Get home to Seattle and come back for me when the rain stops.”

  “And leave you here by yourself? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  She gave him a dirty look. “I’m not helpless.” She turned her back on him, stalking to the bucket by the door where she’d left her umbrella.

  “I know. You’re the furthest thing from helpless I’ve ever met. But fuck me, you’re frustrating — here we are, totally alone in a place made for lovers, and you won’t tell me I’ve got no hope, but you want me to leave?”

  “Don’t assume we’ll have sex if you stay,” she warned him, feeling surly and stubborn, then she glanced ba
ck for a moment and caught the expression on his face.

  Undone, confused, humbled, and desiring.

  “I can hope, can’t I?” he muttered.

  For a moment, all of Nell’s defenses fell away as a ripple of something powerful and urgent washed over her, sensitizing her skin and liquifying her core. Maybe this isn’t just a game for him. His unconcealed lust made her feel… sexy — not something she was accustomed to feeling. Too strong, too much in control. Chunky Booty. That one was Tommy’s voice in her mind. Scary woman. Robotic, cold. She got admiration in plenty, but it was usually for being able to fight hard and break things, or for being competent and efficient, and the lewd variety was so often of the any-hole-will-do sort. Eamonn couldn’t take his eyes off her. And she felt wanted, warm, and glorious.

  “Yes, you can. And I’m allowed to be frustrating.” She could feel a twisted smile spreading across her face, almost against her will. “Stay, then.”

  His answering smile was equal parts hungry, dirty, and grateful. “We’ll have fun, lovely.” And he lowered his gaze to her chest for a moment, blatantly admiring. “There’s a hot tub, and I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my truck — pretty sure we could find what we need to make margaritas or something.”

  She laughed. “Are you suggesting your intention is to get me drunk?”

  He blew a raspberry at her, his eyes teasing. “I think you know exactly how much you can drink without losing control, and I bet you never let yourself go there, so… no.”

  “Fair guess.” Nell shrugged, as though it didn’t mean a thing. Why does that sting a little? Staying alert and in control was a good choice, a smart choice.

  “But you’ll have a margarita or two with me, won’t you? Relax, soak in the hot tub, forget about the rain?”

  “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “Your sports bra and boyshorts probably cover more than most bikinis — hey, no, I didn’t peek!” He raised his hands as if to ward off any violence she might do. “Are you going to tell me you’re not a sports-bra-and-boyshorts kind of woman?”

  He had a point. “You probably prefer your women in lace and butt-floss.”

  That just made him laugh. “Oh, babe, the gift wrap doesn’t matter — it’s what’s underneath that counts.”

  “Awkward,” she said. “Don’t push me, but we’ll see.” He winked at her, and she raised her chin. “I should go over to the office and call Tommy now in case we lose phone service later.”

  “All right. How about I gather up some supper and snacks, and we can take the food back to our cabin? The dining room is a bit big and lonely when it’s just the two of us.”

  “Sure. Good plan.”

  Alone in the office, Nell felt unaccountably anxious as she picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi, Lila, it’s Nell. Could you put me through to Tommy?”

  “Nell!” Lila’s voice bubbled with giggles over the phone. “How’s the romantic cascades? Get laid yet?”

  “No. Lila, someone will hear you. Please just put me through to Tommy.”

  The hold music played for a moment and then Tommy picked it up. “Nell. Good. Did you find that manager?”

  “Yes. She’s in the hospital, but she’ll be back to work as soon as she’s released, probably in a day or two, and—”

  “Did you say hospital?” he snapped. “What’s wrong with her? Anything that will make her unreliable or cause problems for us? If we need to get rid of her, I want to start the hiring process right away.”

  If I say anything about the baby, Jessalyn will lose her job. “From what I understand, she fell and hit her head, gave herself a concussion.” Which wasn’t a lie. Jessalyn did have a concussion from falling, if one left out the part about gestational diabetes and a hypoglycemic seizure. But even lies of omission didn’t sit well with Nell’s integrity. It’s the lesser evil, she told herself.

  “All right. But you’d better conduct a performance review as soon as she’s back on the job, and don’t renew her contract at the end of the season without talking to me first. We can’t have clumsy site managers falling everywhere.”

  “Yes, Tommy,” said Nell. In her heart, she knew that Jessalyn wouldn’t last at Wildforest once a single word was said about maternity leave, never mind childcare. She sighed, not wanting to be the one to burst that bubble.

  “Is that all you called about?” Tommy asked. She could hear him tapping his coffee mug against the desk.

  “Unfortunately, no. We also have a flood warning for the highway below the property, so we’ve had to voucher the guests out, and I’ve sent the staff home. Eamonn and I will stay onsite until we’re back to operation.”

  Tommy swore, ostensibly under his breath, but she felt the words were directed at her. “How can you have a flood warning in June?” he demanded, as though she had some kind of responsibility for the weather. “This is ridiculous. I need to see better things from that property, Nell.”

  “I’m working on it, Tommy.”

  “Good. Call me when you’re on your way back.” And before she could ask him to put her through to booking so she could let them know about the flood warning, he’d hung up.

  Not wanting to talk to Lila again, Nell looked up the direct number for booking instead of dialing the main line she knew by heart.

  “How’s it going, babe?”

  Startled, Nell spun around in her desk chair to face the threat before she managed to process that it was just Eamonn. “Oh. Hi. I’m just about done here.”

  “Good. I hope you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure if you were, ah, feeling vegetarian today, so I heated up a bunch of different stuff. Probably too much, even.” He had a plastic milk crate full of stacked covered dishes, and a tote bag over his shoulder with what looked like a blender sticking out of the top. A delicious smell wafted over to her and her stomach growled in response.

  “Apparently, I’m hungry enough not to care what it is. Let me just finish this—” She brought her attention back to the screen, where the out-of-office autoresponder sequence waited for activation. There. She shut down the computer, punched in the code on the phone to redirect calls to head office. “And we’re done until the storm passes and the roads are open.” She pulled the large, high-powered flashlight from the desk drawer where she’d found it and stood up. “I know there are flashlights in the cottages, but I want this big one if we lose power. Let’s go. Can I carry something?”

  “I’m good, if you get the doors and light switches?”

  Nell shot him a grin. “Oh, you’re letting me get doors for you now?” She almost bounced ahead of him to the office door, feeling full of freedom and holiday — it was raining and horrible out and they were caught in a storm, but until the flood watch was lifted, they were on a private, almost secret vacation. Alone together.

  As she flipped off the lights, she realized how dark the day had become under the heavy cloud cover and gusting rain. It was flying all but sideways, and they were going to get soaked. Eamonn must have seen the thought written on her face, because he said, “I don’t think I can run with all this and my umbrella, but you go ahead if you want to. I’ll follow as quick as I can.”

  “We’re getting wet anyway. We’ll stick together.”

  As they strode out into the rain, Eamonn laughed. “I wanted to see you wet, babe, but not like this.”

  And for no reason that Nell could think of, she smiled sweetly at him and said, “Add in the hot tub, and we can try for three kinds of wet tonight…” It was worth it, just to see the incredulous anticipation light up his face. She moved ahead of him and added a bit of extra sway to her hips as she walked, guessing that his eyes would be fixed on her rear view and feeling oddly fine with that.

  By the time they reached the cottage, Nell’s yoga pants were drenched from the bottom of her jacket to the tops of her boots, and rain had run up the sleeves of her coat to saturate the cuffs of her hoodie. As she peeled off her coat and stepped out of her boots o
n the doormat, she saw that Eamonn’s jeans were soaked across the thighs too, and the rain had blown in under his umbrella to dampen strands of his hair and scatter droplets across his face. Flipping hell, he has no right to be so handsome. It was as though the weather itself had somehow made him more approachable, more touchable — or was that the privacy of being alone, where no one would know or judge what they did?

  Damn. Maybe Lila was right that she needed to get laid. She hadn’t wanted to feel this attraction, but there it was, a ridiculous urge to run her fingers through his wet hair and lick the raindrops from his face. Simmer down, Miss Whelan, we’re not rushing into anything. Skipping dinner wouldn’t do anyone any good, no matter what the blatant desire in Eamonn’s eyes promised.

  “You want to go get out of those wet things?” he asked, setting down the things he’d been carrying to shrug out of his jacket. “Dinner could be clothing-optional…”

  A rush of heat flowed over her, and she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or just plain arousal. “Slow down. I need a little foreplay — and maybe a drink — before we get to the clothing-optional part.”

  “Babe, you really do speak your mind. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. And foreplay can definitely be arranged.” He took a step toward her, and she could see the kiss coming, see the moment where he’d take her in his arms and press his mouth to hers.

  She shuffled backward. “Dinner first.” I can’t be nervous about this, can I? She’d always taken a practical approach to sex, never shy about her body or safety or making sure she got her needs met.

  “Sure thing.” He shrugged, maybe a little bit frustrated or confused, then picked up the milk crate and bag, carried them over to the kitchenette area, and started to unpack. “Go get some dry pants on, then. Or a bathrobe.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “Me?” He stopped shuffling dishes around and turned to face her.