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)
“We’re not going to overload you on your first day. Today we’ll be focusing on the tour so you can understand the layout of the resort.”
“Sounds good,” I say, before Eden can reveal her real motivation for taking this job.
“First on our tour are our four main restaurants. You’ll get a sense of the difference in vibe. All three of you will be working primarily in Autumn, but it’s important you know all the restaurants so you can advise our members accordingly. You’ll be required to cover in other restaurants from time to time, depending on bookings and staffing levels.”
We follow Hazel along the corridor, down some steps into the first restaurant of our trip—Blossom. Its booths are pink velvet and the color scheme somehow contrasts beautifully with the gray blue of the sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. As we walk through the restaurant, I notice how the staff are dressed exactly like us. I guess we’ll all fade into the background when the members are here.
It feels like a very different world to one I’ve ever visited before. If I’d married Frank, I wouldn’t know places like the Colorado Club existed. I wouldn’t understand that waiters and waitresses for the seriously wealthy don’t dress the same as normal waitstaff. It feels like I’ve woken up on a different planet. It’s certainly a world away from Oregon. I’m surrounded by people I’ve known for less than an hour, in a town I’ve been in just over two days. All I can think is how I was about to get married and cement my future when I knew so little of the world.
Eden’s looking around, probably trying to spot the wealthy, gay owner of the Colorado Club.
“Here we are at Blossom. It’s our fine-dining restaurant. Some members will want to eat here all the time, but we think most will come here once or twice a week.”
The tables are very spread out and the space seems small. Then again, I don’t have much to compare it to. I’ve only ever been out to dinner with Frank and he just wanted the best steak. Fine dining wasn’t really his scene. Hazel keeps talking about the chefs and the menu, and I mentally rush to commit it all to memory. I wish I had my cell, so I could take notes, but it’s strictly forbidden to have a personal phone while you’re on shift.
“Did you see that guy in the suit?” Eden whispers as we trail Hazel toward the kitchen. I was focused on Hazel, worrying about how I’ll remember to pronounce fois gras correctly.
Eden turns her head and I follow her gaze. Three men head in the opposite direction, so all I see is their backs. Living next door to Byron has done a real number on me. I swear, I’m imagining him everywhere. It’s just, the middle guy is about the same height and has the same broad shoulders.
“The guy in the middle?” I ask. As well as broad shoulders, he also has a nice ass. I haven’t noticed Byron’s ass, but I make a mental note to check it out next time I see him. Maybe that will be tonight. I don’t know why he’s filling up my head when I have so much else to think about. I keep thinking about how open he was, talking about his family. Like we’re already close confidants or something. Mom always told us we should keep ourselves to ourselves—keep it in the family, she’d say. So while I’ve never before had the kind of bare-your-soul conversation Byron and I shared, with him, it felt entirely natural.
She shakes her head. “The one on the left. You think that’s the owner?”
I shrug. I want to tell Eden that marrying a man because he’s rich might not make her happy, but I know there’s no point. Maybe it will be enough for her. It wouldn’t have been for me. I don’t know what will be enough for me, now that I’ve cut my tether to the life I thought I had to have in Oregon. But Star Falls might be the place where I start to figure it out.
NINE
Byron
I shouldn’t be here. I’m playing with fire, dancing with danger—whatever the metaphor. I should stand up, take my hot chocolate inside and return some calls or watch the game. I should do literally anything but stand here on my front porch, waiting for Rosey Williams.
But here I am.
After I saw her earlier today at the Club, I asked my assistant to remind me when I’d signed off on the waitstaff uniforms. I hadn’t expected a plain black pantsuit to be so provocative. Maybe it was just who was wearing it that made the uniform seem so suggestive. Rosey looked sexy as fuck, her hair swept up, giving easy access to her neck. Then there was the way the vest clung to her torso, emphasizing her curves and small waist. I’d never even noticed the uniforms until today. Until I saw Rosey in hers.