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She looked away first, lifting her mug for another sip of tea. Maybe Sloane had been right. Maybe Katy did see me as competition. Either way, she’d just made one thing abundantly clear. From now on, she’d be getting the professional version of me and nothing more.

The rest of the morning was awkward to say the least, and I was more than relieved when it was time for lunch. I decided I’d take my sandwich up to the roof terrace to enjoy the view and calm down a little from my earlier frustration. Besides, I wouldn’t be allowed to use the terrace once there were guests at the hotel, and since we hadn’t opened yet, I should take the chance to enjoy it while I could.

I gathered my things and made my way up, then silently cursed my decision when I stepped through the doors and found Tristan sitting on one of the sun loungers in the middle of a phone call.

7.

Erin

“Okay, sounds good. Talk to you then,” Tristan said before ending the call.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be out here. I’ll go,” I told him, turning to leave.

“No, please stay. I was just finished anyway.”

I shot him a sheepish look. “I snuck up here to eat lunch. Just thought I should take a chance to appreciate the view while there are no guests.”

Tristan’s gaze softened. “Come sit. There was actually something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” I moved to sit on the sun lounger across from his, though I didn’t recline. Instead, I mirrored his position and sat sideways so that I was facing him.

“You and Katy seem to be getting along,” he said, and I nodded. I mean, we had been getting along until this morning when she’d insinuated I had a crush on Tristan and was going out of my way to get on his good side. If anything, I’d planned to avoid him, but that didn’t seem to be possible since it wasn’t a huge hotel, and we did have to work together.

“That’s one positive thing in this transition at least,” Tristan went on, and the stress on his face told me I was right to keep the fact that I’d sort of lost my temper with Katy this morning to myself. He ran a hand through his thick hair before lifting his gaze to mine. Gosh, those brown eyes of his really were penetrating. They had this bright, puppy dog quality that made you want to do whatever he asked of you.

“Things haven’t been going too well with the other departments. Hazel and Lisa in housekeeping seem to have a knack for rubbing each other the wrong way. Some of the new porters aren’t quite gelling with the old ones, and then there’s the kitchen situation.”

Oh, no. He was talking about Cooke, wasn’t he? “I heard about that.”

Tristan’s expression showed surprise. “You did? I thought Moira had only confided in me.”

“Moira?”

“She’s the head chef who’s running the retraining with the kitchen staff,” Tristan explained. Right, Moira, the grey-haired woman who was set to retire soon.

“Ah, I see. Well, I think it’s too early to start worrying. Cooke’s a great guy and a really hard worker. He just needs a little more time to figure everything out.”

“Who told you about this?” Tristan appeared to tense. “Because nobody should really be talking about—”

“Oh no, it wasn’t anyone talking. Cooke is my brother-in-law,” I said, and his eyebrows shot up before his features tightened with something like concern or possibly dread. Weird. “I went to see my sister last night, and she mentioned Cooke’s had trouble with the training, but like I said, it’s early days. Growing pains are inevitable.”

“Ah, I see, and yes, you might be right,” Tristan agreed, some of his tension leaving him, but a little stiffness remained. He glanced at my lunchbox on my lap. “Please eat. I don’t want to cut into your break time.”

I opened my lunch box, glancing down at the sandwich, cashew nuts and pear I’d packed this morning. It felt weird to sit and eat in front of him, so I found myself blurting, “Would you like some?”

Tristan blinked before a somewhat gentle expression shaped his features. “No, but thank you for the offer. I already ate.”

“Ah, okay,” I said, a tendril of awkwardness lingering because why on earth would the likes of Tristan Balfe want to share my basic packed lunch? A memory of our time together as teenagers tiptoed across my mind, the two of us huddled on the mattresses sharing a packet of M&Ms while we watched TV shows. Yet there he sat, no idea that we’d shared food numerous times before. I felt a little duplicitous not telling him, but like I said, it wasn’t a time I was keen to revisit. I’d prefer for it all to remain in the past and for him to never remember me at all. It made him being my boss a lot easier.

I picked up the pear and took a bite, the crunch loud on the quiet terrace. Some of the juice trickled down the corner of my lip, and I absently wiped at it, then heard a small clatter.

“Sorry,” Tristan muttered, bending to pick up his phone that he’d dropped on the floor. He placed it back on his lap while his gaze flickered very briefly to my mouth. He looked away quickly, his eyes fixing on the view while his cheeks went slightly ruddy. Huh.

“So, you wanted to ask me something?” I said, needing a change of subject.

His eyes flicked back to mine, and he cleared his throat. “Right, yes, since some of the departments are having trouble merging, I wanted to ask if you have any ideas on group bonding activities? I’ve organised a few in my time, but I figured you know the staff here far better than I do, so you’d know what they’d enjoy.”

There it was again, that flutter of pleasure in my belly that he’d come to me for advice. “Well, I mean, you’ve already agreed to uphold disco night. That will certainly boost morale.”