Chapter 4
four
HENRY
By nine pm, the driveway looked like a Tesco car park on Christmas Eve.
SUVs lined up nose-to-tail, drivers opening doors, voices echoing across the courtyard.
Children in matching red coats, and adults who looked preened to perfection and not like they’d spent twenty-four hours travelling.
There was enough luggage piled neatly at the bottom of the stairs to clothe a village.
I guessed being the bellboy likely fell to me.
And in the middle of it all stood Amanda Inglis. The sharply tailored, inappropriately heeled, neatly ponytailed figure of interest. Despite the perfectly coiffed millionaires departing the cars, she gleamed like a rare gem amongst them.
I couldn’t even explain why. It wasn’t like she’d been nice to me, not even personable, really. But her sharp little tongue ignited something deep inside me. Some feral urge that craved to know more about her.
‘Henry, could you help with the luggage? They are all labelled with the room names.’ She secured a label to the last case and looked at me expectantly.
Her tone was polite, but frosty.
I gave her a cheery grin, enjoying how much it seemed to irritate her. Merv brayed off in the distance, sensing upheaval. I liked to think he was backing me up.
One of the children, a little girl of around seven, looked me up and down as I descended the stone stairs. ‘Are you the butler?’
The accent? Adorable.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m the gardener.’
She frowned. ‘In winter?’
‘In winter, we prepare for next year.’
She scrunched her nose. ‘Can I see the donkey?’
‘After everyone is settled,’ I promised. ‘He’ll be delighted to make a new friend.’
Amanda shot me a look, as though her fun detectors started flashing the minute someone dared to smile.
‘Henry,’ she said crisply, crossing the gravel like an angry cat. “Could you please get the cases in?”
Damn. I imagined making her moan pleases in far more interesting ways.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t want the bags getting cold.’
‘Be serious.’
‘Never.’ I bit back a grin.
She rolled her eyes and turned away, already onto the next thing on her eye-watering list of tasks and times. Watching her was like watching someone conduct an orchestra. Every single movement of hers was meticulous.
I’d seen efficient people before, but I’d never seen anyone so bloody uptight with it.
She moved fast, but precisely. Petite, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Deliciously out of reach.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t mesmerising.
I’d never met anyone less in need of help. Or less inclined to accept it. Yet, I wanted to find a way to see what her smile would be like. To see her loosen up and laugh. To hear her moan those pretty pleases in my ear as I…
Shit.
I lifted a case in front of my crotch and hobbled up the stairs. I didn’t need anyone catching me with a boner in front of the clients.
‘Down boy,’ I whispered to myself as I lugged the case into the house and up the stairs. A task straining my muscles enough under the enormous weight of the bag, only further impeded by my current condition.
The eldest adult son, Raif, brushed past me when I eventually finished dragging the bags to each room as labelled, phone glued to his ear, and muttering something about the Wi-Fi.
Amanda intercepted him like a heat-seeking missile.
‘You’ll find the password printed in the guest welcome pack I’ve left in each bedroom. ’
He blinked. She gave a perfunctory smile before clipping away across the tiled floor.
I caught myself grinning.
‘Why are you smiling?’ Pru, the housekeeper, asked.
‘Amanda frightens me,’ I said. ‘It’s delightful.’
Pru snorted. ‘You’ve got odd taste, she looks like she’s sat on a bloody wasp.’
‘She’s like a cat who’d scratch you for thinking about petting her, but you’d still want to win her over anyway.’
Pru chuckled and headed off toward the kitchen, muttering something about idiots and hormones.
Left alone, I did my best to be useful. Every so often, I’d glance up and spot Amanda, phone in one hand, clipboard in the other.
Thriving on order and control.
And yet, when one of the younger staff brought in to help out with serving accidentally dropped a tray of champagne flutes, she didn’t shout at him. She just exhaled and said, ‘Sweep it up. Quickly. Before anyone sees.’
Then she got to her knees and helped.
And that spiked my blood pressure. Seeing a potential soft side of her. Seeing her there, on the floor…
Warding off another raising of the flagpole, I fetched the sweeping brush and helped. By the time the glass was cleaned, the clients had retired to bed, leaving most of the staff to drift home for the night.
I leaned on the kitchen doorway, arms folded. ‘You survived the first night.’
She jumped slightly, turning toward me. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Admiring you.’
‘You’re so odd,’ she said.
‘Just trying to see if your face ever cracks a genuine smile.’
Her eyes flicked over me briefly, dancing with something that could have been heat, and then dismissed me entirely. ‘If you’re not busy, you could resalt the paths. The weather app says we are due for a freezing night.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She paused. ‘Don’t call me ma’am.’
‘Right you are… boss.’
‘Not that either.’
‘Captain?’
She gave me a look that could’ve wilted my entire greenhouse. ‘Goodbye, Henry.’
And off she went again, dark ponytail swishing, my poor heart trying to follow along behind her.
That odd tug in my chest came back—the fascination with the angry little cat.
She was pricklier than a cactus trapped in a holly bush. Every inch of her screamed Do not touch.
And yet…
There was something behind those narrowed eyes and spikey demeanour that said, Convince me to climb into your lap and I’ll purr for you.
She’d fight it, of course. Probably come like the sweetest thing and then stab me with a pen for making her let go of her control.
I itched to find out.
The thought lingered, warm and stupid, as I stepped outside into the cold.