Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“You think she’s here for a job?” I ask. This morning I convinced myself she was just passing through. She definitely said she only needed the cabin for a night or two.
“She doesn’t work here at the moment, and the bus isn’t for day-trippers,” Janet says, making a valiant effort at keeping the duh out of her voice.
If she’s looking for a job, she’ll need a place to stay.
“Is the staff housing finished?”
“Enough for staff starting this week. There’s another block due to finish construction this week. Furnishing will be complete at the end of next week.”
If she gets a job here, Rosey will need the cabin for a couple of more days. I can’t shake off the feeling of conflict in me. I like the idea of Rosey being next door for a few more days. But if she works here? That will make me her boss.
“We’re on track,” Janet assures me, bringing me back to the moment. Right—staff housing, the grand opening, our readiness to receive guests. That’s what I should be focusing on, rather than what it might mean to Rosey if I’m her boss.
Because it doesn’t mean anything. She’s just gotten out of a serious relationship, if her wedding dress is anything to go by. She’s running from god-knows-what. And I’m focused on making the Colorado Club a success. Failure isn’t an option. Everything I’ve worked for since I was seventeen years old is on the line. If this place doesn’t work—
I can’t even finish the thought. Failure isn’t even a possibility I can contemplate. And not just because my fortune’s at stake. There’s something less tangible I could lose, too.
Despite the fact that I’ve been gone fifteen years, this town has a long memory. The Colorado Club is the key to Star Falls seeing me as a native son making good, not as the kid whose dad lost all the family money gambling and got killed in a bar fight.
The bus starts to maneuver around some crates that have been stacked in front of the main entrance of the Club. Presumably, now it’s dropped Rosey, it’s going back down the mountain to trawl for more candidates. I make a mental note to tell the project manager, Kathleen, to start clearing the entrance. We’re having a photographer come up in a week or so for publicity shots, and we can’t have it looking like a construction site.
As the bus pulls away, it reveals Rosey standing alone out front, looking up at the Club. She doesn’t see me, though she’s practically staring right through me. Maybe it’s the reflection or where I’m standing. I have to stop myself from waving.
“Should someone go down and check what she needs?” I ask Janet.
“If she can’t figure her way through the front door, I’m pretty sure I don’t want her working here.”
“Right.” I nod, pulling my gaze away from Rosey. “Will you interview her right away?” I ask. Maybe I should join the interview. It might help Rosey feel at ease.
Jesus, what is my obsession with making her feel better? I need to get a grip and focus.
“She may have to wait a little. I have to get Sally to conduct the interview, as you don’t want me doing it. But I’ll get her situated.” Janet eyes me suspiciously.
“It’s just… I want to encourage local applicants,” I say, trying to justify my interest. “Maybe I should go down.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. What am I going to say to her? Howdy, neighbor, looking for a job? Rosey knows me as the guy next door. Not the boss. Not the rich guy from New York City. And that’s exactly how I want it to stay.
Maybe that’s why I feel drawn to her—because in this town where everyone knows who I am and who I was last time I lived here, Rosey only knows me as the nice guy from the bar who gave her a place to stay when she needed it most.
I check my watch. “I have a call, excuse me.” I need to get out of here or Janet’s going to accuse me of having a crush on the woman who just arrived for an interview. And she wouldn’t be wrong.
SEVEN
Rosey
I’m wrestling with the key to my cabin, trying to pull it out of the lock, when my cell rings. I pull it out of the deep pocket in my extra-warm coat, which I might never take off it’s so cozy. A chill shudders down my spine. I’m not exactly fielding calls left and right at the moment.
Since Frank and I traded messages when I arrived, I haven’t heard a word from anyone in Oregon. Not from him, my mom, or any of my sisters.
It’s like I’m on some kind of pre-booked vacation and they’ll see me when I’m back. No big deal.