Braxton nudged me. “Admit it. This is more fun than the city.”
I shot him a look. “If by fun you mean hazardous, then yes.”
Lucy cleared her throat. “I’ll uh… get the broom.”
She disappeared down the hall, leaving me standing in what used to be her ceiling, wondering how on earth the most organized woman I had ever employed had ended up here ankle-deep in dust and disaster.
And why, despite every ounce of reason I possessed, I couldn't look away from her.
Chapter Three: Chaos, Coffee, and Control Issues
Lucy.
“I need ice!” I pushed my way into the kitchen where Jane was standing on the countertop, scrubbing out the inside of the upper cupboards. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a tray of ice cubes. “Where are the towels?”
“Third drawer to your left. What happened? Did Dad pull the ceiling down on top of himself?” Jane let out a sigh. “I toldhim to wait until the handyman came to start the demolition work. Look at you, you’re all dusty.”
“He pulled the ceiling down right on my boss!” I still couldn’t quite believe it. Mr. Fitzwilliam was here, at the inn. It was like I had conjured him in my mind from my thoughts this morning. Mr. Fitzwilliam had looked sharp in his expensive dark suit, white shirt, and overcoat. As he did in all the photos I had seen of him, he wore a somber expression, then an irritated expression as half a ceiling fell down directly on his head. “Can we get some coffee for the reception room? Oh, and those jam-filled pastries you made, at least four of those?”
“Slow down, Lucy!” Jane carefully stepped down from the countertop and pulled off her cleaning gloves. “What on earth happened? Did you say your boss was here?”
“He booked a room and so did Mr. Hale, the other partner at the firm. I am going to give him some ice for his head and help Mom with setting up the rooms. Could you please serve them refreshments?” I pleaded, wrapping some ice in the clean towel.
“Give them refreshments? Lucy, the kitchen hasn’t passed a health inspection. I can’t feed anyone except our family. It’s against the rules,” a flustered Jane told me.
“Surely they can have coffee?” I asked in disbelief.
Jane shrugged. “Not even coffee.”
“Well, we are going to have to break the rules just this once,” I decided. I headed out of the kitchen to the reception room, offering the ice to Mr. Fitzwilliam. “Once again, I am so sorry this happened, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“Dex. You can call me Dex,” he repeated, taking the towel with the ice. With a wince, he put it on his head. A small, stubborn trickle of plaster dust drifted from his hair to his collar.
“And I am simply Braxton,” his friend added in a warm tone.
“Jane will be out with some coffee shortly." I was supposed to go help Mom with the rooms, but I hesitated. The foyer smelled like damp wood and lemon cleaner, with a new chalky note of pulverized ceiling. “Why are you here?”
“Yes, Dex. Why are we here?” Braxton, Dex’s good-natured friend, piped up with a grin, almost like he was teasing Dex.
Which couldn’t be right. Dex was so serious, I didn't imagine he would take well to teasing.
Dex cleared his throat. He was handsome, not in a glossy magazine way, but in lines and symmetry and a quiet intensity that made you forget to breathe for a second. “I would like to discuss your position in person.”
“My position? I quit two weeks ago." I frowned.
“As I have stated multiple times, I would like you to come back. Despite your idiosyncrasies, you have managed to be very proficient at your job, and I haven't been able to find an assistant to match your expertise,” Dex replied.
“My idiosyncrasies?” I echoed.
“You chew your nails. You always put your coffee cup on the left side despite the fact you are right-handed and thus you have gone through twelve keyboards from accidentally spilling your coffee on them. You chat with the clients excessively before ushering them to my office. You tend to laugh a lot, which is distracting. Plus, your family calls a great deal." Dex looked down at me as he recited the list, his mouth a firm frown.
I let out a half-laugh of disbelief. “If I had so many faults, it is a wonder you want me back.”
“As I stated earlier, you are very proficient. You seem to anticipate what I require, and I haven't been able to find an adequate replacement,” Dex replied evenly.
“You need to find someone else. I am busy with my family’s inn,” I answered, trying to keep my voice polite while my blood started to simmer from his insults.
Jane came in balancing an old wooden tray, white knuckles on the wobbly handle. The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastry filled the ruined foyer, cutting through dust and tension.
