CHAPTER 4
Emma
“Uh… I…” I can’t finish. I don’t know how to answer.
This girl is as sure of herself as I am timid. Besides, she’s holding a plate of food, and all I can do is stare at the variety of delicious treats it holds and wish like crazy that I had the magical powers needed to send the food flying off the plate and right into my mouth.
She grabs what looks like some sort of seafood-filled pastry, shoves it in, and keeps talking.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Some folks say I sound like I’m a basketball coach. You know, the kind that screams and throws chairs.”
“Uh—”
“I just meant that I don’t know you, and I know everyone at Yosemite Ranch. Even Victoria’s guests. I met them already. Her assistant, Millicent, is moving to town to work with the company. The company. You know.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe not the company. It’s more like Victoria’s part of the company.
I don’t know what they’re up to, honestly, plus I don’t give a shit about any of it.
I work the ranch. The ranch is the best in the country, and that’s partly due to me.
Don’t let the Travis boys tell you different, not that they even work their ranch anymore, because they’re hotshot athletes who wouldn’t be caught dead with dirt under their fingernails. ”
She’s still talking and chewing, but I can’t follow any of it because I want her food.
She catches me eyeing her plate. “You want some?”
I so want some. I want some more than I want anything else in the world. If I don’t eat something, I’m going to pass out for sure.
“They’re shrimp puffs. Are you allergic to shellfish?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had shellfish.”
I hope to hell I’m not allergic to shellfish because I need to eat. I need to eat right this second.
“You don’t look so good,” she tells me.
“It’s been a long day. I know I’m not dressed right, but I didn’t know about the wedding.”
“Fuck that,” she says. “I mean you look like your eyes are going to roll back in your head, and not in a good way— like some parties I’ve been to. Let’s sit you down.”
“I can’t. I wasn’t invited,” I say, but then I shut up because she’s right about my eyes. They’re about to roll back in my head and not in a good way. I need to sit down, now.
She takes hold of my arm. This girl is crazy strong. I grab a shrimp puff from her plate and manage to get it into my mouth. I close my eyes and moan. I so need to eat more. Lots more.
“Is this seat taken? I don’t care. It is now.” My new friend pushes me down onto an empty chair at table number seven. She points at the plate in front of a woman wearing a flower hat. “Are you eating that? Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
She slides flower-hat’s plate over to me and hands me a fork. I don’t have to be told twice. “Are you thirsty?” I nod, and she hands me a tall glass of water.
It's so good to eat and drink. Four bites in and half a glass of water later, I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore, but I still feel like death reheated.
“Move over,” she tells the woman in the flower hat and sits next to me. She places a hand on my forearm. “I’m Summer,” she says. “I probably should have introduced myself earlier. But like I said before, I’m used to knowing everyone and everyone knowing me.”
“Nice to meet you, Summer.” I shovel more food into my mouth as I double-check that my duffel bag is on the floor next to my foot. I don’t want to lose all of my worldly possessions. I swallow. “I’m Emma. Emma Clark.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you Victoria’s friend?”
I look up at her. “I don’t know any Victoria. I went to school with a Vicky once, back in Reno. I’m here for a job.”
Digging into my front pocket, I take out a printout of the email and hand it to her.
It takes her a minute to unfold it. It’s probably sweaty. She reads while I continue eating.
“Wait. You’re going to be Finn and Jasmine’s housekeeper? That rat bastard didn’t say a damn word to me about this!”
“Is he a rat bastard?” I’m worried, but it’s too late to get any details.
Summer’s already jumped up, spun around on her boot heel, and returned to her table, where she’s talking to that guy.
One of the behemoths. He looks over at me, and we lock eyes.
His are a beautiful violet-blue color, and he has the same thick black hair as three of the other behemoths.
I can barely register what I’m looking at. His face is sculpted, like a work of art from a fancy museum. His eyes are rimmed with long black eyelashes and framed in black eyebrows, all to match his hair.
But his mouth is pulled tight as he studies me.
He talks with Summer. Reads the email printout. Then looks at me again, scowling.
He stands. Summer gives him a little shove and he’s headed my way.
Is this Finn MacLaine?
I can’t breathe. I don’t think it’s a shellfish allergy either. I think this is my reaction to getting an eyeful of the sexiest male creature I’ve ever seen in person.
His back is perfectly straight as he moves toward me, the self-confidence rolling off him in waves. He looks like a guy who’s afraid of nothing. Which makes sense. He could probably take anyone and anything that comes his way.
But despite how huge and muscular he is, he moves gracefully. His suit fits him so well that he could be one of those businessmen sitting around a shiny conference table in a TV show about billionaires.
He’s getting closer. He’s completely calm and collected. Is everyone here as self-assured as Summer and this guy? If he’s the rat bastard, he’s a self-confident rat bastard.
I’m not sure how I’ll do in that kind of work environment.
Oh, no. I’m afraid he might speak to me, which means I may have to say something back. Quick, Emma. Think of something funny and sexy to say. Remember to speak English. Wait, English is the only language you know! Get it together!
I swallow and wipe my mouth with a napkin. Suddenly, I’m even more humiliated by my sorry appearance. This is not how I want to look when I meet the sexiest man on the planet, even if he might be my new boss.
“Hello?” He stops a few feet away from me, his head tipped in curiosity.
“Hello?” Wait—that was dumb. Not funny and not sexy. Just dumb. But mimicking him is all I can manage under the circumstances.
“You’re looking for me?”
“Am I looking for you?”
This is getting ridiculous. I can feel my face heat up like an electric stove. This is a problem of mine. I turn red when I’m embarrassed. And I get embarrassed a lot.
But not to this level. I feel flat-out ashamed. Which I’m guessing means my face has gone right past red and straight into purple.
Oh, geez.
“You’re looking for me?” he repeats, his left eyebrow shooting up.
“I don’t know you,” I say. This is logical, at least. Because I don’t know him. I have no idea who he is. Unless he’s Finn MacLaine.
“I don’t know you, either. I’m Finn MacLaine.”
“Oh.” I slouch in my seat and shut my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, this entire situation will be flipped on its head, and I won’t be dumb and socially awkward and I won’t lose a job I desperately need before I even start working.
Even better, I could turn invisible! Invisibility would be real handy right about now.
I open my eyes.
Nope. He’s still here and still gorgeous. I’m still here and an idiot.
“I’m Emma Clark. Your new housekeeper.”
“My what?”
His forehead scrunches up, etching three vertical lines between his eyes. His beautiful violet eyes. He turns and gives a pointed look at Summer, who shrugs her shoulders in response.
“I answered the ad. I got an email.” My voice sounds squeaky and pathetic.
Summer shoves the printout into his chest. “This email. The one I just showed you.”
He reads through it a few times before he looks up again at me.
“I have no idea what this is. I didn’t place this ad or any ad. So if you’re some kind of con artist, I’ve got bad news for you—you’ve just rolled onto the wrong ranch.”