Holidays with the Billionaire

Chapter 13

Adlee

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K elton takes the proffered apron and puts it on. I do the same, and then we both pull on blue rubber gloves. When I look at him, I have to bite back a smile. He looks so domesticated in the apron and gloves, and I can’t help but laugh.

It’s taken a lot for me to smile today. The blizzard that hit us overnight stressed me out badly. Between Kelton’s comment about me needing to work out and the weather, only video-chatting with Gabe was able to talk me off the ledge. He said my boss was likely trying to get me flustered and was probably flustered himself, saying what he did and then walking off. I will admit Kelton left in a hurry after our near-close encounter.

Gabe had of course dragged all the details out of me. Wanting to know if we slept together or if we had been close. I hate to admit he was right about our attraction, but that boy always seems to have the best intuition. Still, I didn’t do any of those things, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Grab the cold cuts from the fridge and start putting them on one of the silver platters,” Bernice says, pointing to a large commercial refrigerator.

I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but I get to work. I notice the employees in the kitchen aren’t the normal kitchen staff I’d grown to know over the past few days. Darnell and Laurie are nowhere to be found, and I hope they’re okay, warm and safe at home in this weather.

Bernice chops olives and sprinkles them into a pasta salad that looks like it’s been marinating in the fridge all night.

“Look, you don’t have to go to any trouble with something fancy,” Kelton says, laying a hand on Bernice’s arm. “We just need to eat. The luncheon is obviously a bust, and that’s okay. Nobody can predict the weather accurately anymore. Let’s get everyone fed, including all of you.” He looks at each staff member individually.

“I think most of the prep work has been done, Mr. Fox,” Bernice replies, finding a large spoon to shove into the pasta salad.

Another staff member, a woman I recognize as usually working the front desk, exits a walk-in cooler with two six-packs of beer and puts them on the counter. Then she disappears into the cooler again.

I arrange the meat and cheeses as best I can, trying to make them look pretty on a tray I found stacked under the large stainless steel island where I now work.

“Bread should be in one of the cabinets,” Bernice continues, pointing to a row of cupboards behind me.

I quickly find the rolls and open them up, separating them and putting them on another platter.

Soon, all the food is ready and we take turns walking it to the dining room where the staff is waiting. Miraculously, I don’t fall on my ass this time, bringing in the tray. I set it down and everyone seems to be delighted to finally see food.

“I’m starving,” Muriel, Mr. Laskin’s wife says. “There was no breakfast.”

Thanks for stating the obvious, I want to say, but of course I keep my mouth shut. She doesn’t look like she’s used to missing meals.

Once everyone gathers around, I see the staff starting to leave and invite them to eat.

“Oh, we can’t,” Bernice says. “There are other guests who are hungry.”

My eyes widen. “Nobody’s eaten yet?”

“Not really. A few have come down, not knowing why room service wasn’t working. I told them to look outside. Most of the staff couldn’t make it in today. Thought that’d be pretty obvious.” She shakes her head. “But y’all enjoy, okay?”

I look at Kelton, who is listening, and then back to Bernice. “No, I’ll help. No way you can feed all these guests with only you and the couple of people down there in the kitchen. I’ll help.”

“Me, too,” Kelton says. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Bernice. I can’t let you do it alone.”

Something in me stirs. I didn’t take Kelton for the manual labor kind of guy but I’m liking him more and more as the day goes on.

“Guys, dig in,” Kelton says to his family and board members. “We’ll be back shortly.”

We head back to the kitchen and get to work pulling out food and making whatever we can for the remaining guests. A lot of them checked out yesterday, and I knew from all the paperwork I had to read up on that Kelton keeps the resort mostly empty this week for the company retreat, with the exception of a few favored guests and local celebrities. I hadn’t recognized anyone, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m assuming they’re sports players, which would make sense. I occasionally pop a piece of meat or a pickle in my mouth to keep my stomach from growling.

Once three giant lasagnas, two big pots of spaghetti, and four huge shepherd’s pies are all cooked, Kelton looks at Bernice. “Can you go pull up all the remaining guestrooms in the computer and call each one, let them know there’s food here?” He scans the steaming dishes. “Enough for lunch and dinner.”

“Right away, sir,” she replies, taking off her gloves and putting them in the trash before rushing out of the kitchen.

I rummage around in cabinets and find Styrofoam hinged to-go trays. “We should start plating these so people can grab and go.”

Kelton and the other girl, Lisa, I learned her name is, go to work. I find a pen and mark what each item is.

“Teamwork makes the dream work!” Bernice says, as chipper as can be as she enters back into the kitchen. “It’s what I love to see!”

She’s always so positive, I can’t help but feel infected by it. “I love that,” I say, smiling at the older lady.

“Thanks for helping us, Mr. Fox. We couldn’t have done it without you,” Bernice continues.

He chuckles. “Oh, I doubt that, Bernice. You have a great team here.” He looks at me. “All of you.”

Guests start entering the kitchen and grabbing trays, thanking us and then leaving. There are about a dozen trays left, and right on cue, my stomach rumbles.

Kelton chuckles. “Want to grab a tray? Or go back to the luncheon and have cold cuts?”

“I’m sure they’re gone by now,” I say. “We’ve been gone two hours. Everyone probably left.”

Kelton’s phone chimes. He reads the message and says, “Yes, you’re right. Grab a tray, we’ll eat on my balcony.”

I nod.

“We’ll clean up, sir,” Bernice says with a smile.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “Don’t rush though. Please have something to eat first.”

“Yes, sir.”

I snatch a spaghetti tray, and he chooses shepherd’s pie, and we ride the elevator up to our floor, the food smelling amazing.

“Oh, no,” I say. “We forgot to grab utensils!”

Kelton chuckles and pulls out two wrapped plastic utensil sets, complete with paper napkin and salt and pepper from his pocket. “I got you.”

We arrive on our floor and I follow him to his room. I’m a little nervous, but admittedly curious as to what his room looks like.

And I’m not disappointed. The suite is magnificent. Damn near 360 views of the town, and top-of-the-line everything. Huge television, a separate suite for his bed, a full kitchen. He sets his tray down and points to the kitchen. “If you don’t want to eat with plastic, I do have silver forks and knives.”

I smile. “I’m good with plastic. I’m so hungry I would eat with my hands if I had to.”

He laughs at that and it’s nice to see him so easygoing. Then, he takes a match and lights a fire in the fireplace.

Kelton walks to the sliding glass door to his massive balcony and we’re hit with a wave of freezing cold air. I watch as he pushes a button on the side of the door, and Plexiglas enclosures come down electronically to encase us in. He flips on the standing portable warmer and instructs me to sit in one of the plush chairs.

I obey, setting my food on a shared table in front of the chairs.

“Clever,” I say.

“What is?” he asks as he sits and hands me the wrapped utensils.

I point to the enclosure. “This. You can still enjoy the balcony and the views and not freeze your ass off.”

He laughs again. “That’s the idea. Of course in the summer, it’s much more enjoyable, but we do what we can.”

I dig into my food, trying not to slurp down the spaghetti noodles and splash sauce all over my face like a piglet. I slowly twirl the noodles around my plastic fork, wishing I’d opted for the lasagna instead.

Between bites, I ask, “Do you think the roads will clear enough by tomorrow to allow the staff back in?”

He smirks, wiping his mouth on the paper napkin. “Why, don’t like my cooking?”

He really had done most of the hard work. He knew the right amount of seasonings, whereas I would have had to YouTube it.

“Actually, it’s delicious, but obviously you have work to do, and can’t spend all day in the kitchen,” I reply, twirling more noodles.

“We,” he replies.

“We what?” I question.

“We have work to do. So to answer your question, yes. You can already see the snow plows out.” He points in the distance to a vehicle with flashing yellow lights. “They’re very good about keeping the roads clear here. I’m just happy we didn’t lose power.”

I hadn’t thought of that and shuddered slightly. “That would have been terrible.”

“We have generators, but they only last so long,” he says before putting a bite into his mouth, looking off into the distance.

I stare at his profile, faintly stubbly but strong jaw and a slightly bumped nose I’m sure has been broken a few times. His brow is prominent and his hairline doesn’t look like it’ll recede much as he gets older. As if on cue, he rakes a strong hand through his hair and turns to look at me.

“Good to know about the generators,” I murmur, a little flushed at getting caught staring.

“You don’t have a backup generator at home?” he asks.

I shrug one shoulder. “Not sure. I live in an apartment.”

“Yeah, they’ll have backups for sure,” he says.

The conversation goes cold until we’re done eating. It isn’t super uncomfortable, but I hate the silence.

“So do you really think I need to work out more?” I blurt. It had been such a pleasant day, I shouldn’t have thought to ruin it, but it’s been bothering me.

He slides his gaze to me and one side of his lips lifts. Then, he rakes his eyes over me from head to toe, and says, “No. I don’t.”

“Then why did you say that?” I ask.

“Because everyone should work out for their health. Mainly their heart. Weight loss is only an advantage, but not something you need at all.”

I take a swig from a plastic water bottle he’d handed me when we took our seats out here and swallowed hard. “Well, thanks, but my backside could use some toning for sure.” My cheeks immediately heat. I’m not sure why I said that. My ass and thighs are my biggest insecurity, but he didn’t need to know that.

He looks away, staring out over the town again. “No, it certainly does not.”

My eyes widen and I clamp my mouth shut at the self-depreciating retort I want to blurt. Guys hate that shit, at least this much I know.

So he’s been staring at my ass. Good to know. I try not to wear too tight of clothing at the office, but dammit, sometimes skirts just don’t fit loosely with the way my butt bubbles out. It’s not my fault, really. I could buy a bigger size, but then it would swim at the waist.

“Well, uh, thank you for having dinner with me,” I say. “I guess it’s back to the schedule tomorrow?”

He stands and grabs my tray before I can, indicating I go back inside before he does. He dumps them into a trash can and then turns to me, where I stand frozen. I meant to head for the door but something stopped me.

“Why don’t you stay and have a drink with me?” he suggests. “Do you like hockey?”

No.

“Sure,” I reply a little too quickly. The main area of the room has a sofa and a table. He tells me to sit, and I watch as he retrieves a bottle of whiskey from the fridge. He pours about a half glass in each tumbler and hands one to me before sitting next to me. He pops the TV on with the remote and I’m met with ear-piercing whistles and shouting. Obviously this is all he watches since it was already on the damn sports channel.

I sip the whiskey and almost cough at how strong it is. I’m trying to maintain my composure, but holy hell it’s strong. I am not really a whiskey drinker so this is hitting me fast.

“Smooth, right?” he asks.

I turn my head to look at him, and his face and body are close to me. I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“The hockey, the whiskey, or you?” I joke.

He smirks again and says, “All of it.”

The alcohol hits me stronger now. I stare at his full lips and wish he’d kiss me. My inhibitions are extremely loose, and as my gaze travels up his face, past his slightly crooked nose into his crystal-blue eyes that are a little hooded, I lick my lips, set my glass down, and grab his tie with both hands, pulling him toward me for a kiss I can no longer resist.