I snort, lifting my to-go mug to cover my mouth as I laugh. “You bet your ass I will.
Show me where I can put my stuff, unless you want to help me lug it all around for this tour.”
My coat is liberated from my grip, my bag, too, but Adam leaves me my tea. I take a purposeful sip as if to prove how unaffected I am. “Those are totally your color.”
The coat is a big, puffy, lilac monstrosity from my senior year in high school, but none of my more adult jackets was enough for a Pinebrook winter.
Adam tilts his head at me. “I’m not afraid to hold a woman’s things. It’s not going to make me any less of a man. In fact”—he steps closer still, and I have to reground myself to keep my knees from wobbling—“I think it makes me more of a man to be helpful.”
We’re in a standoff in some kind of quarrel that I don’t completely understand.
Adam doesn’t peg me as the kind of boss who would bowl over his employees, to use his stature to intimidate.
And that’s not quite what this feels like.
Dominance at play.
This is where I usually flounder. “Then be helpful and tell me what events you want, how big you want them, and whatresources I have at my disposal so that this tour can have some context and I can get to work.”
He gives me that sly grin. “I’ve got a list.”
“A list.”
Nodding toward a pair of wooden, barn doors, he says, “I’ll explain as we walk.”
We walk through a small banquet hall.
It’s beautiful with loads of windows and luxurious wood burning heaters to make the place feel cozy. Sparse furniture creates a lowkey seating or visiting area when not in use for a party.
I get a quick tour of the kitchen, menus, and a few handshakes of need-to-know people.
There’s a small cafe in the back where basic coffee, tea, and cocoa is stocked with an array of pastries from my parents’ bakery.
Adam doesn’t acknowledge my questioning look when I see them.
He ushers me on to the balcony and the hill down to the lift for skiers to go up the mountain.
We circle around through another sitting area to the lobby.
The rest is filled with private rooms that I don’t really need to see. And we end by stepping past the front desk to a hallway of offices.
Making it behind the scenes fills me with triumph. I’ve maintained my professionalism. With that win bolstering me, I cross my arms and look at Adam.
“So, how much are you paying me for the…” I count the events he has on his docket. “Seven events?”
“Well, let’s just make something clear right now, Miss Bennett.” He sets my jacket and bag down on one of the chairs in the office. “You’re not my employee. Instead, think of me as a client.”
“A client, huh?”
He hits me with the full force of his presence, and I’m once again struggling not to wobble. “Yes. Because I have strict policies about fraternization amongst employees.”
How forward he’s being has me burning up. He’s too much my type. Too much exactly what’s gotten me in trouble.
“It’s better to be upfront about these things.”
I’m gaping at him and snap my mouth shut, bolstering myself against feeling like an imposter. I’m good at my job, but I’m so terribly bad with men.
I can already feel the awkward sweat tickling the back of my neck.
