Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
JACKSON
After signing the papers and informing the staff of our official status as business partners, Meyer and I have fallen into something of a routine.
Since going home to pack enough clothes for my extended stay in Fraisier Creek and then arriving back in town, I’ve done little but gain my bearings. The first day, I moved into my room at the inn—the same one Meyer came to that night, banging on my door in her drunken passion. Then I took to acquainting myself with the rest of the building and the grounds.
The first couple days, every time I saw her, Meyer’s shoulders would crowd her ears. She tensed whenever we were in the vicinity of one another, like she thought I might do something to force a fight or flight reaction out of her.
When I didn’t do anything to overtly offend her, she almost got more suspicious. For the next few days, I could feel her eyes trailing me everywhere I went.
After that, she finally relaxed. I’m not sure what she thought I was doing, but whatever it was, she seemed happy I was steering clear of her and all inn business.
But that stops today.
Observation is my specialty, and while Meyer has been worried about my inaction where she’s concerned, I’ve been doing reconnaissance. Meyer has made me her enemy, and everyone knows you don’t walk into the territory of your foe without first making a plan.
The office door—the one I’d just shut when I heard Meyer making the first of her typical hourly rounds—bangs into the wall. Just as I predicted it would. The Do Not Disturb sign I hastily put together earlier is crumpled in her fist.
“What the hell are you doing?”
There’s a spark of rage in her blue eyes, and seeing it pleases me. Is it messed up that I find joy in annoying the shit out of her? Yeah, probably. Is it even more messed up that I find the angry flush on her face incredibly attractive? Definitely.
“Ellison,” I say, tipping back in the wonky desk chair. It’s definitely going on my list of things that will need to be replaced. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”
“It was ,” she says through gritted teeth. She holds a to-go cup from the same café I was patron to a few hours ago, and she brandishes it like a sword, ready to cut me down. “I repeat. What the hell are you doing in my office?”
Trying to ignore the bags under my eyes from my restless night. That, and the tightness in my chest. The band of anxiety that held me captive as I tried to sleep. When all else fails, I turn to work .
So after a fitful night, I rose at five and got ready for the day. I drove to the café on Main and was this morning’s first customer. I was so early, I had to wait for the coffee machines to wake up. Not that I should be having much caffeine, especially with how I’m feeling, but I’d need to inject it intravenously if I wanted to be able to function properly.
By six o’clock, I had my ass in this lumpy chair, poring over paperwork. Whatever I could get my hands on, really—financial reports, supply orders, employee files. My hunger for data was insatiable. Looking at me then, you would think I was right back at my office in Toronto. Like I hadn’t even left, prioritizing work over my health.
I guess some things really don’t change.
“Hate to break it to you, but all this ,” I say, twirling a finger in the air, “belongs to me as much as it belongs to you.”
Catching Meyer’s glare with my own eyes is pointless when I can feel it singeing my skin. Especially when her gaze rakes down my body. She takes in my suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, the sleeves of my shirt rolled to my forearms, the loosened knot of my tie. I look like a man who’s had a long day—not a man whose day is only just beginning.
Her eyes snap back to mine. “You look like shit.”
I place a hand on my chest. “ Ouch ,” I say. “Nice deflection, though.”
But beneath my palm, my heart pounds a bit harder than it should. Back home, my haggard appearance would be a badge of honour. Here, under Meyer’s scrutiny, I’ve never felt more insecure in my life. I’ve known this woman for about two weeks collectively and already she’s seeing right through me.
She doesn’t know what she’s seeing—and she won’t, if I can help it—but she recognizes it all the same. It’s rather unnerving. I’m here to complete a task, not be picked apart by my business partner’s shrewd gaze.
She reminds me of Cherie, in a way. My grandmother, with her take-no-prisoners attitude and her blunt way of speaking, wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if I looked terrible. If I looked like I was on the verge of collapsing again. Meyer’s brutal honesty is somewhat refreshing. It’s something I’ve missed since Cherie has been gone.
“ Vaughan .”
I sit forward in my chair, startled back to reality. “What?”
Based on the strange look she’s giving me, I definitely spaced out. That IV full of coffee is looking more and more appealing by the minute.
She cocks her head, scrutinizing me again. Then she shakes it. “I asked you—for the third time , might I add—what the hell you’re doing.”
“Compiling data.”
She mutters something under her breath that sounds vaguely like the word nerd . I hide a smile behind my fist, not prepared for her to see how amusing I find her. That would only make her resistance stronger.
“Has anyone ever told you that you share too much?” she asks dryly. “Compiling data on what ?”
“Everything,” I reply. “I need to know this place inside out in order to create an optimization strategy.”
“And why would you do that? ”
“To ensure all of the processes we employ are running efficiently. Recognizing changes to be made to smooth them out further if necessary.”
“Absolutely not.”
I continue, as if she hasn’t spoken. “First optimization strategy: we need to fire Reggie Gaines.”
I officially render her slack-jawed for all of two seconds before she clamps her lips together tightly. And then she begins to protest, as I suspected she would.
“We’re not firing anyone,” she declares.
I sigh, leaning back in the chair again. It groans beneath me. “We’re wasting money on his salary, Ellison. He doesn’t do his job. The other kitchen staff have to pick up his slack, which wastes their time.”
“He’s worked here for five years !”
“That may be the case, but that doesn’t preclude him from being lazy. In the individual interviews I conducted?—”
“You interviewed my staff ?” Meyer’s voice has grown shrill.
“ Our staff, Ellison. I talked to our staff.”
She shakes her head. “We can’t fire Reggie.”
A noise of frustration leaks out of me, unbidden. “This laissez-faire leadership style you’ve got going on isn’t working for me.”
She scoffs. “Yeah? Well, you being a smug asshole isn’t working for me .”
I brace my hands on the desk and stand. “I’m trying to work with you, but you keep shutting me down.”
Meyer looks up at me, hate in her cool gaze. “Because I don’t want you here! ”
“Above all else, we’re running a business,” I try to explain. Try to return to my rational brain. Getting into a shouting match with her won’t help matters. “It’s nothing personal.”
“ Everything is personal in a small town.”
I shake my head. “Your mother gave him more than his fair share of warnings, Meyer. It’s all documented in his file. He’s lucky he’s been given this long.”
“We’re not firing Reggie.” She slams her cup down on the desk. Some of the coffee escapes the opening and lands on the back of her hand, and by the way she flinches, I assume it’s still scorching. “Son of a bitch!”
I sigh. “Are you alright?”
She doesn’t answer. She just glares. I retake my seat, running a hand over my face as my bone-deep exhaustion hits me once again.
I have to look away when Meyer laves her skin with her tongue, clearing away the coffee and simultaneously nursing the burn. It shouldn’t be enticing at all, yet it has my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t.
“You cleaned.”
It’s not a statement but an accusation. I deem it safe to return my gaze to her and find Meyer now glaring at the newly organized files.
“What? Do you have something against tidiness, too?” I ask.
My office in Toronto is pristine. Scratch that, my whole life in the city is pristine. I stepped one foot into this office and instantly had the desire to spend a small fortune at the office supply store. The space wasn’t dirty by any means, but it was messy. How Meyer ever managed to find anything was nothing short of a miracle.
She crosses her arms. “I had a system.”
“Well, now you have a new system. One that doesn’t make my eye twitch.”
She reaches both hands in front of her and mimes strangulation. I try, honestly, but I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes me. Her ire, though meant to be formidable, only draws me into her orbit more.
With a grin, I say, “Now there’s no need for violence, Ellison.”
“You’re a prick,” she spits.
“And you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” I reply. “I take it we won’t be seeing eye to eye on this Reggie business.”
Her lip curls into a smirk. “At least you’ve got something right.”
Resigned, I sigh again. A headache has been edging into my brain all morning, and now it’s finally making its full appearance. I rub at my temple, trying to soothe the flair of pain.
Coffee and an ibuprofen. That’s what I need.
I stand again, reaching for my jacket from the back of the chair. Instead, I have to brace against it when a wave of dizziness clouds my vision.
My head swims, and I’m sure I’m seeing things, but Meyer’s expression seems to soften. Fractionally. Try as she might to keep it concealed, my business partner has a heart. I’m sure it eats her up inside that she can’t feel completely indifferent toward me.
But I would take her chilling hatred over indifference any day. It sets something off inside me, this inherent need to get under her skin.
“You puke, you clean it” is all she says. But I think I see worry behind that uncaring fa?ade, and I’m fucking sick of all the worry. So I straighten, pulling on my jacket, and I will myself to stay steady.
“I’m going to get some air,” I say. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”
She tosses the balled up paper at my retreating back. It falls short, hitting the floor behind me. “Trust me, there’s no risk of that.”
My laugh follows me out the door.