Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“This is amazing,” I said.
Pam grinned. “Asher’s talented, I’ll give him that. He was here last year too, and we were all sad when he left.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Of course Asher, the very rude man who’d driven me up here, had made this. I should have known.
I forced myself to keep eating, but exhaustion was creeping in. It had been a long day—packing, the uncomfortable drive, Mrs. Greer’s cold reception, hours on my feet at the desk.
When people started pushing back their chairs, I realized I still didn’t know where I was supposed to sleep tonight.
“Pam,” I said, catching her before she stood. “Can you point me toward the staff quarters? I don’t actually know where my room is.”
“Oh, you’re not in the regular staff quarters. You’re in the visiting staff quarters.” She waved her hand vaguely. “It’s a little tricky to get to. Most people call it the hideaway, as a matter of fact. Asher’s staying there—he can show you.”
My heart sank. “That’s okay. I can figure it out.”
“Don’t be silly. He won’t mind.” Pam was already standing. “He’s a nice guy. Come on, let’s see if he can take a break.”
I wanted to argue, but what was I supposed to say? That he spent three hours this morning making it clear he thinks I’m beneath him? Instead, I followed her back through the restaurant and into the kitchen.
The space was immaculate, all stainless steel and controlled chaos. There was only a small staff working tonight—as they’d said, most of the guests hadn’t arrived yet. Asher stood at the stovetop, his back to us, and for a moment I just stared.
He was in his element. His white chef’s coat was splattered with oil and sauce, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. His dark brown hair was slightly mussed, and he moved with a precision that was almost hypnotic—stirring a pan, checking something in the oven, barking an order to someone behind him, all without breaking rhythm. It was like watching someone conduct an orchestra.
“Asher!” Pam called over the noise.
He turned, and his deep brown eyes landed first on Pam, then on me. His expression shifted, something cold sliding into place. He spoke to the guy next to him and gestured toward the stove, clearly having him take over, then crossed the kitchen toward us, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands.
“Can you take a quick break?” Pam asked. “Zoe needs someone to show her to the intern quarters.”
I saw the refusal forming on his face, the slight tightening around his mouth, but after a long moment, he nodded once. “Fine.”
“Thanks!” Pam clapped him on the shoulder and headed back out, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
“You can just tell me where it is,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m sure I can find it.”
“It’s not that simple.” His voice was flat, almost bored. He tossed the towel onto a nearby counter and strode past me without waiting to see if I’d follow.
I hurried after him, my heels clicking on the tile. He led me down a hallway, through a door marked “Staff Only,” and into a passage I hadn’t noticed before. The temperature dropped immediately. We were underground now, the hallway narrow and dimly lit, twisting left, then right, then up a short flight of stairs. I tried to memorize the route, but it felt like a maze.
Finally, he pushed open a door and held it for me—not in a gentlemanly way, just in a get-this-over-with way.
“Keep the noise down,” he said, his tone flat. “The ski instructors caught a red-eye and are jet lagged.”
I nodded, suddenly hyperaware of how loud my heels sounded on the floor. Asher moved past me into a small kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water, his back to me. Clearly, this conversation was over.
I headed down the hallway, passing a bathroom and several closed doors. Behind one, I heard the unmistakable sound of snoring. Another was silent. The third was cracked open, and when I peeked inside, relief flooded through me.
My luggage sat in the corner of a plain, functional room. Bunk beds lined one wall, both mattresses made up with simple white sheets. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean and private. I hoped I’d be the only one staying in it.
After freshening up in the bathroom, I ventured back into the main area. The kitchenette was empty, since Asher had already left. In front of it was a seating area with sofas and armchairs in front of a huge fireplace that dominated the room. There weren’t any overhead lights, just a lamp here and there, so the light from the flickering flames bounced around the space. It felt cozy, even if it was a little on the cold side. But the baskets of blankets placed around the seating area would help with that.