Chapter 8 #2
Arissa, who asked me six times if I was sure the spirit possessing Skye was gone, clearly doesn’t like anything connected to the paranormal.
She flat-out told me she was fine with the ghosts because they’re “normal whack jobs” but would prefer not to be involved in any of the rest if we can possibly manage that.
As far as I’m concerned, there are already too many people involved, so she’s probably safe at home watching whatever people watch on a Sunday night.
“Why would she? The kitchen runs like a dream. She’d have to sit through the meeting for no reason.”
Jorge seems appeased by that, even a little smug. The kitchen really does seem to be in great shape. The one at the Collective doesn’t run this smoothly or put out food this good.
“Jorge—” Skye sticks his head around the door, sees us, and smiles. “Oh, hey! Uh, Jorge, I just wanted to make absolutely sure you don’t want us to wash the dishes later? The popcorn cookies are a big hit, by the way.”
Jorge closes the oven and points a warning finger at Skye. “Don’t even think about it. Just stack everything in the sink. And there are more of the cookies. I’ll leave ’em out so you don’t mess up the pantry looking for them.”
Skye snorts. “Like any of us have the guts to go into the pantry without permission. Kier, we’ll wait in the break room.” He pulls his head back out.
“I’m going to run back upstairs and see how they’re doing,” Kieran says as Jorge begins pulling out containers and a big plate. Like… huge. What do they call them when they’re that big? Sounds like plate but it’s not… platter! Anyway, even for a platter, this is big.
“I’ll come with you,” I tell Kieran, because why not? What am I going to do here? It’s much more fun to stick close to him. And he can’t tell me no right now, because Jorge thinks I’ve been sent by the owners to check the place out.
“Oh, there’s no need for that. Sit down, grab a cookie,” he suggests, but I shake my head and give him my winningest smile.
“I plan to have many cookies. The exercise will do me good.”
The smile he gives back is more a baring of the teeth than anything else.
He doesn’t say anything the whole way back up to the Garden Suite, and I don’t either. Maybe I should cut him a break. Also, now that I’ve started thinking about the possibility of sex, I’d really like some. With him. I wonder if he has freckles all over his body?
Josh is just coming out of the room as we approach, talking over his shoulder.
“Hey,” Kieran says. “Everything okay?” His gaze flicks over Gabe and Ewan as they exit as well.
“All done,” Gabe says. “That’ll hold overnight, and I’ll refresh it in the morning. Then we’ll see what’s decided after that.” He flicks me a glance that tells me I’m in for an inquisition.
Kieran exhales deeply. “That’s… thank you. So much. Oh my god, I think I might get some decent sleep tonight.”
“Well, if you need something to wear you out enough to sleep,” I begin, only to get an elbow to the ribs. “Oof!” He doesn’t even look over at me as he does it.
Gabe slowly shakes his head. “How did we grow up together and turn out so different?”
“Gabe, let me show you your room,” Kieran offers. “You can wash up too, if you like. Jorge, one of our chefs, is getting some food together for you. We’re going to meet in the staff break room.”
He’s so cute when he rambles.
Josh and Ewan head downstairs, but when Kieran gives me a dismissive look, I say, “I’ll stick around and talk to Gabe while he’s washing up.”
His lips thin, but he ignores me, leading the way to the stairs and up to the third floor, explaining to Gabe that there’s an elevator if he’d rather not take the stairs.
He pulls a key card from his pocket as we approach the room, then swipes to unlock and ushers us in… all without a single glance my way.
The room is nice. It’s designed to look like we’ve stepped back in time, but everything is fresh and new… or at least, if it’s old, it’s been meticulously restored. I thought the crash room for the staff was well-appointed, but this is way nicer than that. No wonder people pay so much to stay here.
Kieran starts a spiel about the theme of the room, blah blah, and look how the electrical outlets have been disguised, blah blah blah.
Then he goes to the bathroom door, flips on the light, and starts blah-ing in there about historic plumbing or something.
Gabe listens, probably genuinely interested.
Historian, remember? I flop onto the bed and look around.
It really is a nice room. There’s some great plaster detailing too, and I can imagine lying in this bed and following all the curlicues with my eyes while they get heavier and hea—
“Is that a water stain?” The mean, vicious part of me takes delight in pointing it out.
Kieran’s voice breaks off midsentence, and he appears in the bathroom doorway. “What?”
I point, trying to hide my grin. Although it probably wouldn’t surprise him.
His eyes go up to the ceiling and then widen in horror. “Oh my god!” He looks at me. “Is the bed wet? Is it dripping?”
I pat around on the bed. “Nope. I think it’s just stained. Maybe a pipe with a slow leak? What’s above this room?”