17. Millie
CHAPTER 17
Millie
Maura has the entire staff packed like sardines in tight rows in front of the restaurant entrance. She’s clinging to her clipboard, using her pencil as a pointer as she walks back and forth across the gravel – a self-appointed drill sergeant. There’s a tense energy around the lodge, like we’re all on high alert, scared to put a foot out of line.
Maura is one of the sweetest souls I’ve ever met, but there’s an air about her today that makes me feel like getting on her bad side would hurt like hell. I’m begging the ground to swallow me up every time her eyes move in my direction.
Unfortunately, there’s no escaping my fate.
It’s the weekend of the Barnhoff wedding, and with over 150 day guests and about as many moving pieces throughout the proceedings, the entire Braggan Valley Lodge team has been pulled in to help in some way.
Even Bill, who’s usually out playing golf and flaunting his semi-retirement, has been saddled with the arduous task of steaming the tablecloths. And then steaming them a second time once Maura scolds him for the several missed creases in the fabric.
I’m listening intently, waiting for my call.
Parker should take a leaf out of my book. Despite working at the lodge for five summers, he somehow doesn’t seem to have the sense to adapt his behaviour to complement Maura’s current warpath.
“Parker!” Maura’s voice booms across the gravel parking lot. “If you’re so interested in horseplay, maybe you should take your resume to the Holden Stables and get out of my kitchen.”
Chef Raphael scoffs. “ Her kitchen?” He’s clearly offended that Maura has laid claim to the four walls that he dedicates his entire life to.
“Technically, it is her kitchen,” Parker shrugs. “She owns the place, you’re just the chef.”
“ Just the chef!?” Raphael seethes, spinning on his heel.
“I’m kidding… I’m kidding.” Parker dives behind Luke to shield himself, both hands raised in the air in surrender. “You’re the best there is, Chef.”
Maura continues with her delegation, separating the team off into groups of three or four, assigning tasks with little to no explanation.
“Nina and Millie,” Maura calls out. “You’ll be on the food & liquor deliveries. Liquor will be here in ten minutes, followed by Carter Food Services within the hour. Once that’s done, you can help Beth and Ivar polish cutlery.”
She might as well be talking in gibberish, because not one word of that made sense to me.
I was hoping I might be paired with someone who knows what they’re doing, but one look at Nina confirms she is just as clueless as I am. She just arrived at the lodge a few days ago, this being her first job straight out of high school.
Great .
“Caden!” I bristle as Maura calls out his name, summoning him from his truck. “Get over here! You can help the girls with the heavy pallets.”
No. Fucking. Way.
I don’t want to laugh a gift horse in the mouth, but I’d rather do this alone than have Caden assigned to help. I’m not at all ready to be in close proximity with him after hearing what he really thinks of me.
“Surely not!?” It sounds like the feeling is mutual. “Don’t you need me out here chopping logs? The cabins are full all weekend and they’ll no doubt want to use the main pit by the creek, too.”
“Yes.” She chews on the end of her pen, contemplating his offered escape plan. “You’re right, I do need you to stock the log shed.”
At that, he relaxes, realizing he’s off the hook.
“After you take care of the food delivery that is,” Maura adds, the touch of a smirk dragging at her upper lip as she walks away.
“But…” His shoulders tighten again as he attempts to carry on with his protest, but Maura is long gone, already assigning housekeeping duties to Elodie and the twins.
Caden sighs, pulling his cap down further over his eyes and leaning back against his truck in defeat.
“ Idiot ,” I mumble under my breath, not knowing why I’m calling him one, but feeling good about it nonetheless.
“You’ll need to pull out all of the baking supplies and make sure the newest ones go to the back.” Parker has thrown on his whites, losing his clown attitude and actually becoming useful as he explains rotating inventory to Nina. “First in, first out.”
Seems like sound logic.
I head to the wine cellar, ready to tackle the liquor delivery with his instructions. I pull out the older wines, filling the shelves with the new ones and meticulously straightening each bottle with the label facing forward. There’s something satisfying about getting them all lined up perfectly.
I’m taking my time, taking full advantage of the distance this task is putting between me and Caden. I can breathe a little easier when his irritating presence isn’t taking up so much of my personal space.
“Adams, need your help.”
I always speak too soon.
“Have you ever thought about using your manners?” I ask, a much harsher bite to my voice than I was expecting.
He’s holding the door open expectantly, as if he thought he could summon me, and I’d just hop right up at his beck and call.
“Oh, I’m sorry, let me try that again.” He huffs out a laugh, as though he thinks my request for basic human decency is over the top. “Your royal highness, would you please be so kind as to accompany me to the walk-in for our assigned duties?”
I look to the empty boxes to my left, hoping they’ve somehow refilled themselves with additional bottles of beer so I can refuse his request.
No such luck.
“Let’s go, Princess.” He taps his foot eagerly on the tile flooring. “We don’t have all day.”
I shoot him a look that I hope feels like molten lava, as I reluctantly get to my feet and barge past him in the direction of a thick white door held open with a milk crate.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I ask.
“It’s a fridge, Adams.” His brow furrows as he follows me inside. “You do know what a fridge is, right?”
This is the largest fridge I’ve ever seen. What sort of fridge has a hallway and six-foot shelves?
“Of course I know what a fridge is… I just didn’t know this was one. It’s bigger than the rooms in the staff house.”
“Right.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wasting no time getting back to ordering me around. “Here’s how this part works, I call out the item and quantity, you check it off the list. Got it?”
He hands me a clipboard, ripping open the first of several cardboard boxes stacked outside the ridiculously-large-fridge.
“Why can’t Nina do this?” I grumble.
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Have a sick note?”
“No.” Sick of your shit, maybe. I roll my eyes, battling to keep my innermost thoughts to myself .
“Then you’re perfectly fit for the job.” He picks up an open palette, sliding it onto the produce shelf next to me. “Beef Tomatoes, 5 kilos.”
I groan, searching through the spreadsheet in front of me, hoping to find the tomatoes before giving Caden the satisfaction of pointing them out.
Bingo.
I nod as I check them off the list.
“Heavy Whipping Cream, 2 crates.”
Another nod.
“Portobello mushrooms, 2 kilos.”
This time I forgo the nod, hoping he’ll take the movement of my pen as confirmation that I’ve checked them off.
“Mushrooms, 2 kilos,” he repeats, waiting for my response as he pushes the crate into its spot on the shelf.
“Are you expecting me to provide confirmation each time?” I’d probably consider reining in my sass a little if I wasn’t still so mad at him for trying to sway Maura’s opinion of me.
He turns towards me, resting his hands on his hips.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but whatever it is, you might want to think about dropping this attitude real quick.” His nostrils flare as he stares me down. “Sure Maura’s being a pain in the ass, but this is a big weekend for the lodge. The Barnhoff wedding is huge – their reviews could make or break us, we rely on shit like this to get us through the slower months in winter. If you’re not going to be helpful, then you might as well go home.”
“Pffft… go home.” A bitter laugh tumbles out of me. “That’s fitting.”
“What is your problem?” he grunts, taking a step closer to me.
“My problem, put plainly—” I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to be intimidated by his broad frame towering over mine “—is you.”
“ Me ?” He laughs, returning to the stack of boxes. “Go on then, do tell.” He pulls the clipboard out from underneath my arm, holding it out in front of me. “And check off the chicken breasts while you’re at it.”
I severely dislike this man right now.
“I bumped into Stella in town last week, she told me about some of the not so nice things you’ve had to say about me. I’m clearly not your favourite person, but did you really have to try to get me sent home ? Before I’d even had the chance to start? That seems like a low blow, even for you.”
“Ha! Stella is two things: the best baker on planet earth, and the biggest gossip in Braggan Valley. I’d take anything she says with a pinch of salt.” He leans over me, pointing out a checkbox on my list. “Chilli Jam, 2 counts.”
“There’s no smoke without fire though, is there? Why would she make this up?” I drag an aggressive line across the paper. “You know, I didn’t take you for a coward. But if you’re going to talk shit about me, the least you could do is quit lying and say it to my face.”
His eyes darken, a black storm swirling in their ocean blue as his jaw flexes. Leaning over me, he plants a hand on either side of me, gripping the top shelf.
I try to take a step backwards, but I’ve nowhere to go.
“Listen, Millie.” His breaths are ragged. “You can say what you want about me – that I’m a dickhead, or ill-mannered, or straight up rude. Those things might all be true, but don’t call me a liar. That’s not who I am. If you want me to be honest, then I’ll be honest. Just don’t blame me if you don’t like it.”
He pushes off from the shelf, taking a few steps away from me, removing his cap and running a hand through his mussed hair.
His dark heat lingers around me, pinning me in place against the cool metal shelving.
“When you arrived, I did want you gone. I was at my wits’ end with Maura meddling in my love life, trying to set me up at every turn. Then you showed up with your tiny little waist, that fat ass, and those fucking freckles, looking every bit my type.” He pauses, bursting open another cardboard box before spitting out the rest of his words. “I thought it was all part of Maura’s elaborate scheme to get me hitched, and I made no secret of telling her I wanted you out.”
I don’t know how to make sense of what he is saying.
Stella wasn’t lying, but she didn’t give me the full story either.
“I’ll admit I got the wrong end of the stick, and Maura handed my ass to me for it.”
“And what about now? Do you still want me gone?” I don’t know why I ask, and as soon as he replies I wish I didn’t.
“What’s it to me, Millie?” He throws the last of the supplies on the shelf, signing his name across the delivery invoice before heading for the exit. “I couldn’t care less whether you stay or go.”