“Morning, Jake. How’s it going?”
Jake lifted his ball cap to scratch his thinning brown hair, then settled the cap back on his head. “Believe it or not, we’re right on schedule, maybe a little ahead.”
“News I like to hear,” Cain said.
A woman walked in his direction—sashayedmight be a better word. “Good morning, Cain.” It was one of the interior designers, Millicent Beauchamp. She was a statuesque redhead who’d been a little too friendly from the start. Cain made a point of keeping her at a distance.
“Millie.”
She gave him a fake smile. She preferred to be called Millicent, which everyone refused to do. She had the pouty lips that were in fashion, but Cain preferred a more natural look.
“I was hoping I’d see you,” she said. “The carpet’s arriving day after tomorrow. We’ll be installing it this week. The tile installation will be finished in a day or two, along with the hardwood floors.” Millicent was an extremely good designer, the reason Cain had hired her.
“That’s good news,” he said. “I talked to Jake. Looks like the construction crew is almost finished with their part of the remodel.”
“That’s great, because all the furniture that was ordered a few weeks back should be arriving soon. We’ll have it installed before the end of the month.”
“I look forward to seeing it.”
Millie’s smiled widened. “We’ll have to celebrate when we’re finished. Of course, dinner will be on me.”
She’d been trying to get him to go out with her since their initial meeting. “First things first,” Cain said. “Let’s get the hotel open and running before we start celebrating.”
Millie’s smile slipped a little. “Of course.” She glanced over his shoulder at someone walking up behind him. Cain’s sixth sense—or the disapproval on Millie’s face—told him Jenny had arrived.
Cain turned toward her. She looked a little tired, but as pretty as ever. Cain’s body stirred. He managed to ignore it.
“Millicent Beauchamp, this is Jenny Spencer. She’s the owner of the Copper Star. You’ll be working with her on my personal suite. Whatever you two come up with, Jenny will have the final say.”
Millie’s eyes widened. “You’re letting a saloon owner decorate your suite?”
Irritation trickled through him. “I like what Jenny did with the rooms she recently remodeled at her hotel. They’re a little old-fashioned, a little more traditional, more relaxed. I won’t be here that often. When I am, I want to feel comfortable.”
Millie kept the fake smile plastered on her face. “That won’t be a problem. If you’d told me, I could have handled it myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll work it out. In the meantime, we’re headed to town for breakfast. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Jenny opened her mouth to argue, glanced at Millie, and let the hand Cain had set at her waist guide her toward the back door.
“We’ll have breakfast, and you can check on things at the Star. Then we’ll come back and you can talk to Opal, get her to show you the kitchen. Maybe make a few suggestions, whatever you think might make the place run more smoothly.”
“Opal’s your cook?”
“That’s right.” The hotel kitchen, like the bathrooms, had already been completed. Opal Dorn, the cook, was stocking shelves and freezers, getting ready for the opening. “Eventually, we should have enough business to bring in a chef for the evening meals, but Opal will continue to run the kitchen during the day.”
“I told you I couldn’t start until Tuesday. After quitting early last night, I have even more to do.”
Cain grumbled a curse beneath his breath. He was still worried about Ryder’s motorcycle gang, the Steel Cobras. They might want vengeance, and Jenny could be a target.
A noise at the front door caught his attention, and Cain turned back toward the sound. He paused at the sight of his grandmother in a wheelchair, a blue knit shawl draped around her thin shoulders, being pushed by her caregiver, Emma Watters.
“All right, I’ll drive you back down the hill so you can go to work,” Cain said. “But I want you to meet my grandmother first.”
Jenny smiled. “I would love that.”
It warmed him to see that she meant it. Together, they walked to where his grandmother waited. Cain leaned down and brushed a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. He knew better than to hug her, as he always used to. Nell’s bones had gotten too brittle to handle much physical contact, especially with a guy his size.
“Jenny Spencer, I’d like you to meet my grandmother, Nell Barrett, and her friend, Emma Watters. Jenny’s the owner of—”
