How to Resist Your Boss (The Ashford Brothers #2)

Chapter 1

EMILIA

Ilied four times before I even made it through the lobby doors.

“No rush,” I texted Amanda. Lie one.

“I’ve got wiggle room.” Lie two.

“It’s totally fine.” That was probably lies three and four, depending on how you count emotional suppression.

It wasn’t fine. My schedule was a Jenga tower made of glass, and someone was already reaching for the bottom block. I had back-to-back meetings, one missing wedding arch, and exactly zero minutes to spare before my day collapsed.

But somehow, I had to keep it together.

As a wedding planner, it was my responsibility to keep everything running smoothly.

.. even the parts that were totally out of control.

So imagine my surprise as one second, I was speed-walking into the five-star foyer of Carmel Ashford Luxe Resort and Spa, trying to radiate competence while lying through my teeth as my client announced that she would be here in forty minutes. Forty!

The next, I was airborne.

Phone gone.

Heel twisted.

Ass down.

A dachshund landed on my chest like it was claiming a hill. It stared at me. I stared back. And then it started licking the foundation off my face.

“What the—” I wheezed, blinking up at a chandelier that cost more than my annual salary. The marble floor was cold. The dachshund was still on my chest. And a dozen strangers were watching me like I’d just fainted in church.

“If anyone values their job around here, get Mrs. Barclay,” someone growled from nearby. “And bring a leash...for her or the dogs. Better yet, make it a large net. This ends now.”

Barclay? As in, the Barclays?

I raised up onto my elbows and discovered a handsome man on his hands and knees while two other kielbasas raced around him.

I laughed at the absurdity as I removed the petite speed bump from my chest and started to get up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The guy stood up slowly, glaring first at the dogs, then at me for some inexplicable reason.

He reached for the nearest dog, only for it to dance out of the way.

The little dog’s tongue lolled out the side of its mouth and I would swear he was laughing at Tall, Dark and Grumpy.

With a growl that would rival a German Shepherd, the guy lunged again and with a tiny growl of its own, the sausage dog dodged the oversized hand threatening to end the fun.

“You know that’s not helping, right?”

I managed to get to my feet while Grumplestilskin shouted, “Gordon! Where is Mrs. Barclay?” His voice echoing around the lobby kicked the dogs into overdrive, and they started barking, which quickly grew frenzied as the little dogs yapped at the big scary man.

“You know, if you spoke calmly to them, they wouldn’t be so frenzied,” I said and crouched down to coax one of the dogs closer to me. “Hello! Aren’t you a precious little thing,” I cooed at the little sausage missile who managed to stay just out of reach.

“What are you, a dog whisperer? Because I’ve got news for you.” He waved at the yapping dogs. “You’re not very good at it.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m great with dogs.” I might not have a ton of experience with them, but I could already see that I was worlds ahead of this asshole when it came to not terrorizing them. I began making a spspsp noise.

“Pretty sure that’s for cats,” Mr. Grumpy snapped at me. He lunged for one of the dogs but it darted under a table and poked its head out to growl at him. He growled right back. I was starting to get the sense that he was the kind of guy who tore the wings off flies just because.

“Have you given any thought to the fact that you keep scaring them off?”

“They’re a menace on four legs and I want them out of here and it’s not as if you’re doing much better,” he said.

“Gordon! Tell Mrs. Barclay that if she doesn’t come get her walking hazards now, she can pick them up at the pound,” he shouted and the dogs managed to take their barking to the next level.

Yeah, I couldn’t let that happen. Because Mrs. Barclay was the very wealthy grandmother of my newest client who was paying for the entire wedding.

I’d been warned that her grandmother could be prickly when she wasn’t happy.

I already had a potential bridezilla on my hands, there was no way I was adding the grandmother to the list.

Time for some triage.

Grumplestilskin was quick in his Tom Fords. He dove headfirst under the table and came out with a wiggling, barking ball of fluff. “Gotcha.” The sausage bundle bit down on his fingers. “Hey!”

“Easy there, Grumpy. You don’t want to make things worse.”

“How could things possibly get worse? These nuisances are recking havoc in my lobby.” Probably responding to his tone, the dog growled at him—and he actually growled back.

“The only thing currently making a fuss in your lobby is you,” I pointed out. “Maybe if you were less shouty, the dogs wouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“And if they weren’t off leash, I wouldn’t have had a reason to shout in the first place,” he snapped back.

The dog managed to squirm out of his hands, jumping down to the floor where it scurried away. The grouch glared after him until I started laughing—and then he turned the glare on me.

“Did you hit your head or something?” he growled. “Gordon!”

A flustered young man in uniform appeared. “I’m … I’m not sure where she is. I’m sorry, sir. Uh… do you need some help?”

Shouty Pants grumbled and I could feel the vibration down to my toes.

“No, Gordon, I normally hang out in the lobby chasing menaces. Of all the idiotic questions. Of course I need help. You can start by finding that insufferable woman and telling her to come get her dogs before I open the main doors and let them run out into traffic!”

“Right away, sir.”

I snorted as Gordon ran off, probably more intent on getting as far away from Mr. Grumpy as possible.

“I suppose you think this is funny?” he demanded, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed harder.

“Yep, I think it’s hilarious. You should take this act on tour.

” I held my hands up like I was envisioning a marquee.

“The Scowl that Scared the West: terrifying small animals and children at a theater near you.” I noted that the dogs had retreated to a spot under a table, popping out long enough to take everything in or look for an exit route or whatever it was that little dogs did when faced with horrible humans.

“I’ll have you know that I’m great with people,” he said.

The increase in whimpering near our feet had me looking down at a trio of sad faces.

They looked as if they were finished with their shenanigans, at least for the moment.

“Everyone loves me!” he said with a growl and the dogs retreated back under the table.

“Clearly not everyone.” I gestured toward the table, and I swear that steam was now coming out of his ears.

“They’re not paying guests,” he spat out through clenched teeth. “And their owner won’t be staying here for much longer either.”

Well, shit.

“Boys,” a thin voice rang through the lobby, echoing off of the walls. “Oh, boys! Where are you?”

I spied an adorable white haired woman fully tricked out in Chanel, from her black banded straw hat to her square heeled pumps. She toddled towards Sir Grumps-a-lot and I braced for impact.

“Mrs. Barclay, I need to speak to you.” Grumpy sounded like a customer service agent at the end of a very long shift.

“Of course, sweetheart. I see you’ve found my boys!”

“Yes, I found them,” he seethed. “When they tripped me and that woman over there.”

That woman. The words were neutral but somehow he made them sound like an insult.

“Mrs. Barclay, we’ve been patient with you,” he continued. “I cannot have your dogs running around like this. They’re out of control. You need to find other accommodations for them if you intend to stay with us.”

The woman’s face fell. “Oh no … you can’t be serious? The boys and I love it here. It’s our home away from home.”

I might have to concede that Mr. Grumpy had a point, because some people were afraid of dogs.

Even little barky, naughty hot dog dogs.

But for my part, I needed this woman to remain happy.

My meeting with her and her granddaughter would not go well if she thought I’d stood by and let her and the sausage trio get the boot.

I spied my phone, face down behind a chair where it slid after I tumbled.

I should’ve grabbed it and walked out the door right away, leaving him to sort this out.

But it was too late now. She’d seen me, which meant I was involved whether I wanted to be or not.

And I couldn’t risk her getting too upset.

“Clearly, since you act like you’re the only one here, and that’s unacceptable,” he shot back at her.

Ouch, dude. This is such a bad idea! I was envisioning the blowback when someone posted a video on social media of Tall, Dark and Shouty bullying a little old lady half his size.

Mrs. Barclay straightened up and threw her shoulders back. The move shaved a few years from her form. Suddenly, her sweet, clueless expression shifted to queenly. Demanding, even. “I’m sorry, but do you remember who I am?”

“Of course I do, you’ve been staying with us for years.”

She gave a prim nod. “Good. Then you’ll remember that the customer is always right. Especially this one!”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken,” Grumplestilskin said. “Every time you stay with us and bring your dogs, you’re required to sign an agreement that states you’ll abide by the resort’s pet rules. Number one on that list is that you’ll keep your dogs under your control at all times.”

He gestured to the three of them now sitting quietly at her feet and watching the interactions as if they could understand what was being said.

“They’re fine,” she huffed. “They’re good dogs.”