Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
CASSIDY
Isaiah slips into the bathroom and closes the door.
Hearing the lock snick drives me into action. Despite the offer to join him in the shower, Isaiah needs privacy, and so do I. There’s a constant niggling in my brain to take a step away and get my bearings with him. I’m glad for the few minutes by myself.
I get out of bed and don a baby blue rib knit camisole and the matching tie front capris from my pajama drawer. I tug on a thin robe for modesty’s sake. In the dresser mirror, I pile my hair up in a messy bun. The combination is cute and sexy. Wearing this I can still tidy up… Or I can go back to bed.
For real, I’m not busting out the spackle and patching the hole in the ceiling on my own and Isaiah… Phew —the air leaves my lungs in a quick rush… That bruising! He might not be worried, but I’m having an attack of conscience over jumping the man’s bones.
Perhaps a night of Netflix and chill minus the chill is in order? After all, we stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning. Then he got up today to go write with my uncle. It’s no wonder he lost his footing. Isaiah’s probably bushed. As my daddy says, it’s hard to keep the tractor running if it’s not firing on all cylinders.
I walk out of my bedroom to head downstairs. Leaving the door cracked open feels as decadent as walking around the mansion in my pajamas. The late afternoon sun streams in the window above the front door, flooding both floors of the foyer in ambient light. Underneath my slippers, the thick hallway carpet is soiled chalky white.
The B&B is my older sister’s pride and joy. I intend to take responsibility for the damage. However, I understand how much better it will look if I vacuum before letting Gracyn know what happened. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and making Grandad’s home look less of a shambles will be my saving grace.
In the kitchen, I punch the reheat button on the microwave and think about the button of mine he’s used his fingers to push. My core temperature spikes, and I bite my lip, trying to suppress a goofy grin.
How can a man with a physique like Isaiah’s not know how to cook?
Except, Isaiah knows just what to do to make me hot. So, what difference do his eating habits make?
I’m happy to forget my mundane life, serving others who come to the inn in search of relaxation and pampering. I deserve the frivolous fun he’s offering. Being with Isaiah makes me feel like I’m on a real vacation from my life.
I place the gooey plate of desserts into the picnic basket and tuck bottled drinks for both of us on either side. The handles go over my forearm. I wheel the vacuum to the staircase and heft it up the steps in my other hand. I leave the basket of food outside the bedroom door and start vacuuming the hall runner, moving into the suite.
Between catching the falling debris, Isaiah, and then us going at it, the bed brings new meaning to disheveled. The linens need more than a washing. They’re torn and ruined.
The red indicator light stays solid as I vacuum around chunks of plaster, closer to the scene of the crime. The rotating brush flicks more and more chalky dust into the brimming canister. I still have to clean the opposite side of the bed and get Isaiah’s and my filthy clothes to the laundry basket.
It’s probably too much to hope keeping the door closed while everyone is here to celebrate will mean no one is the wiser.
I’m in for it once my older sister sees the damage. After the trust pulled me from the banquet hall kitchen, this the second family business I’ve flubbed.
However, I’m not stalling. Isaiah and I simply got carried away by the moment. Like all the characters in romance books and Christmas movies, I’m allowed to revel in that, aren’t I? That he wants me.
I flick the switch, to get a trash bag for the larger pieces when the gig is up.
“Cass?... Cassidy!” My entire body tenses hearing Gracyn’s shrill call.
Being petite as a kid, I squeezed into the smallest spaces and remained quiet as a church mouse. I never once lost a game of hide and seek played in Gran’s house. Now, I’m standing stock still, pretending I have childlike magic to turn invisible.
Is it too much to ask that Gracyn will look right through me?
Of course it is.
“Cassidy, are you here? I just got a phone call from Mr. Roomer’s assistant. She says he got hurt.” My no-holds-barred older sister follows the cord like the dotted lines on a treasure map.
A miniature version of my Aunt Daveigh, Gracyn barges past me and stares at the chalky outline on the comforter where Isaiah lay after he fell. She sees red when she spots the hole in the ceiling.
“What on earth is going on here, Cass?” Gracyn scolds. “A man’s suitcases are in your room. There are clothes—men’s clothes!—strewn on the floor… In there and in here! If it’s not you, who the hell is using your shower?”
Taking a play from my sister’s playbook, I ignore the worst of it: She’s already spied Isaiah’s rumpled jeans and my shirt. His boots and socks. My bra. Need I go on?
“It was an accident. Isaiah stumbled, picking up the last of the Christmas ornaments.”
“Why was he even in the attic? How long ago did this happen?”
“An hour or so… Give or take…” I trail off.
“Cass-i-deee,” A welcome intrusion, Rhiannon’s voice, full of mirth and mischievousness, comes from the hall the way Gracyn’s did. “Ohmigod, you lucky bitch. Is he still here?” She pops into the suite. “Ooh. Well, that’s a lot of damage for a pussy pounding. Told you those panties were guaranteed to be the bomb.” Her brows waggle.
I cover my red face.
“You slept with him!” Gracyn accuses.
Rightfully, but still.
“The shower is on, so you might want to correct your tense. Bitch is sleep -ing with literally the biggest super-hot celebrity recluse.”
“Why are you here, Rhi?” Gracyn puts a hand to her hip.
“Because I’m nosey AF and wanted to hear about Cassidy’s date with Isaiah Roomer. Which, obviously, hasn’t ended yet.” Rhiannon snorts cheerily, coming over to hug me. “I’m so proud of you. Our baby has grown up. She made it to the big league, Gracyn!”
“Will you stop that?” I bat Rhiannon’s hand when she pats my hair.
I’m not mad at her, though Rhiannon’s attempts to diffuse the situation aren’t helping.
Our older sister is my boss, and she takes everything around here seriously.
“Cassidy, he’s a guest. There’s an unwritten rule that you don’t fool around with the guests,” Gracyn mock-whispers.
“Girl, you should’ve put out a company-wide memo for that one. I’ve broken it a time or two. Have you seen the groomsmen who stay here for weddings? And the biceps on the guys who work the ranch?” Rhiannon fans herself.
“Put a sock in it, Rhi!” Gracyn loses her cool.
“Y’all, I’m right here!” I stomp my foot.
When the three of us are together, you’d think I was the youngest, not the middle.
“He’s threatening to sue,” Gracyn snaps at me. “If you needed a sense of adventure, you should’ve tried backpacking across Europe when you were eighteen.” Her angry words sting.
“I know you have two kids with Joe, but that’s low for a woman who carried on in secret with the cop who brought her home in the freaking paddy wagon when she was a teenager, so Mama and Daddy didn’t find out you were fucking their friend. Are you afraid I’ll usurp the crown, Gracyn, and you’ll no longer be the reigning queen of questionable choices?” I bite back.
Whether good or bad, Gracyn’s perfect at whatever she does. It’s hard living in her shadow.
“Do you not understand how this will reflect on me if Isaiah sues us? I’m the innkeeper!” Her tone of voice is harsh.
“Hey, um, are you Gracyn?” Barefoot, Isaiah enters the suite, greeting Rhiannon, whom he’s already met, by name.
He’s wearing new jeans and a fresh tee that binds at his biceps. Those arms. Seriously, I don’t simply like the way Isaiah’s muscles bunch and flex when he moves, I know how adored I feel when he wraps them around me.
My first thought when I realized Isaiah entered the room was “Good flippin’ gravy. Can Gracyn causing a scene get more embarrassing?”
But now I sort of want to slather myself all over him like I’m the gravy and he’s chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes.
Rhiannon is eating up every inch of him, and the entire situation. She’s neither jealous of me for having caught Isaiah’s attention, nor Gracyn for being Kingsbrier’s princess and the de facto head of our generation. But Rhiannon is a go-getter the way our older sister is. They’ve got more of Rose Kingsbrier’s boldness inside of them and my personality is easy going like Ross Cavanaugh.
Isaiah holds his palm out to my older sister. “I wanted to say thanks for putting me up on short notice. My assistant will contact you soon to make sure my bill is covered.”
Gracyn doesn’t shake his hand. She’s got Gran’s business sense, and she won’t agree to anything unless it is in writing.
“I just spoke to her.” My sister’s expression blanks and she glances at the hole above us.
“So it’s settled then? And the fall. We have to get that covered too,” he remarks, sure of himself.
My heart stops beating. “You’re suing us?”
“I’m what?” Isaiah steps back.
“Your assistant Vespa? She called to say that you were suing us over the fall.” Gracyn sounds ominous.
My stomach clenches worrying what I did means we’ll lose the ranch, the vineyard, and everything else.
“It was an accident. It was my fault. I got spooked by something up there when I was helping Cassidy,” Isaiah tells Gracyn.
“By what?” I ask, but he’s more interested in smoothing things over with my sister than answering my question.
“I called Vespa to hook me up with a doctor.”
“Why do you need a doctor?” Gracyn’s head whips around. “What does he need a doctor for, Cass? Because he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.” It’s as if Gracyn’s reprimanding her son and daughter instead of two grown adults. She lays into me. “Do you know what the trust will say about a guest in the attic? About Isaiah getting hurt when I accepted their stipulation that the inn is closed at the holidays? Do you have any idea how much the insurance on the mansion costs? I have to fix this, Cassidy. Not you, the live-in cook. Me. I have to call the agent. I have to get the contractors in here on a tight timetable. We have one less room available until it’s fixed.”
“Ohmigod, overreact much, Gracyn?” Rhiannon comes to my defense. “If I rolled my eyes any harder, I’d wind up in next Thursday. Both Uncle Eric’s and Cadence’s numbers are in your phone. You don’t have to search for a construction company. Your daddy runs one. So stop making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
I cross my arms. I’m in a similar mental state as Rhiannon… About the repairs, anyway.
“Mind your own business, Rhiannon. He’s threatening to sue,” Gracyn grits out.
“Wait!” Isaiah tries to diffuse our sibling tension. “I have a bruise on my back. All I want is to make sure it’s nothing to worry about later on when I’m on tour. As for a guest not being where he’s supposed to be,” Isaiah makes air quotes. “This trip was successful for me professionally. I’ve also been having a great time getting to know your family. So, I asked Cassidy if I could stay for the holidays. She’s great company. It’s not often I have a normal experience, which was my only ulterior motive when I offered to help haul down boxes of Christmas ornaments. Stepping off the plank was a dumb move. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, and I didn’t call my assistant to tell her to put the screws to you. I don’t know what Vespa is even thinking because the last message I received from her was when I got out of the shower. It had two doctor’s names on it. I came in here to find out if Temple Cavanaugh is related to you.”