The Fifth Season (5 page)

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Authors: Julie Korzenko

BOOK: The Fifth Season
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“What’s wrong,” he said, his voice low and barely audible against the blood that throbbed in her head.

“There’s someone trying to break in.”

“From the roof?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear the noise? Someone’s trying to break in.” She looked around and realized they were the only two people up there. Damn, they’d escaped.

Emma frowned when she heard Stone’s chest rumble with laughter. Tilting her head away from him, she saw the flicker of amusement riding shotgun to the dark, silent anger.

“What’s so funny?”

“That was me,” he said.

She frowned and shook her head. “Who was you?”

“That noise. I thought I’d start early. I’ve been ripping shingles off the roof for the past hour.”

“Ripping the…?”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. “What on earth were you doing playing Annie Oakley anyhow? And why one earth would anyone want to break into here?”

She glared at him. The pride at having taken the attack stance suddenly withered into embarrassment. “You almost made me fall off the roof,” she argued.

“Huh, sorry ‘bout that, but you scared the crap out of me. I guess I overreacted.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were someone else,” he admitted, brushing fractured pieces of clapboard shingles from her clothes.

“Who?”

“No one important.” The tone of his voice blocking any additional questions.

She turned away and stared at the horizon. Emma breathed deeply and surveyed her bird’s eye view curious as to who he thought she’d been. “It’s beautiful.” The sun poured through the Grand Tetons like rivers of gold, highlighting the valley with bright rays that penetrated and melted the misty blankets hanging above the pastures.

An eagle screeched, its cry pulling her in.

“Hey,” Stone interrupted. “Where are you?”

She pointed to the magnificent Bald Eagle circling a narrow stream at the base of River Run’s pastureland. “Up there.”

“Huh,” he grunted, scooting back and slowly rising to his feet. He helped her up, and they carefully picked their way across the slick shingles to the attic window. “The next time you go all brave and crazy, call me first.”

Emma pulled her hand from his grip. She ignored her tingling skin and damned the awareness that skittered along her spine. “I tried, but you were obviously occupied elsewhere.”

“I think, Ms. O’Malley, that there are probably several items we need to discuss.” Stone motioned for her to go past him, into the attic.

“Such as?” Emma said, crawling through the window and waiting for him to follow.

“Why’d you think there was danger up here?”

She stepped quickly to the stairs and headed down. Emma wasn’t confiding her problems to
him
. She’d spent the last week being interrogated over every aspect of River Run, and his razor sharp mind wouldn’t take anything she admitted at face value. He’d delve into her past with the tenacity of a terrier, destroying all her carefully laid masks. “An overactive imagination?”

In all honesty, he’d probably fire her and then where’d she go?

Stone Connor didn’t appear to be the type of man that wanted trouble around. And she was definitely trouble.

For now, her identity and past would remain a secret.

“I don’t buy that,” he said, when they’d reached the kitchen.

She whirled around and pierced him with what she prayed was a don’t-mess-with-me stare. “I’m certain that a man as strong and virile as you has never awoken to a nightmare of life threatening proportions and thought the shadows were out to get him. I’m sorry if my petty, female fears seem inconsequential to you, but they exist.”

He walked backward, hands held palm forward in defense. “I didn’t mean to get your Irish up.” Stone turned and exited the kitchen, then paused in the living room. “For what it’s worth,” he called. “I do.”

“Do what?” she replied, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Have nightmares of life threatening proportions.”

And before she responded, he was gone.

 

***

 

Once more, Stone found himself gazing out his French doors, blocking the beauty of the view and concentrating on his internal struggle. Damn that woman. Wasn’t she just a walking, talking vampire of emotional upheavals?

He’d not slept well the past few nights. The week was quickly coming to an end, and the thought of his father this close to him continued to ignite fireworks of anger and resentment. Why was Nate here? More importantly, what did Emma O’Malley have to do with him?

The sound of footsteps creeping up from within the house flashed all types of childhood memories across his mind. He’d not reacted well. His heart still pounded when he thought how close Emma came to falling off the roof.

“Damn careless,” he swore and hammered another nail of self-doubt into his coffin.

Stone couldn’t help but sense there was more to Emma O’Malley’s story than a simple girl who happened to apply for a job with his grandmother. His mind was trained to analyze situations from every possible angle, scrutinize the enemy, then infiltrate and overwhelm. He was lost here.

He didn’t understand the enemy. But, he wanted the enemy. Stone walked into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. What was she doing to him?

The feel of her pressed against him on the roof and that one moment where her face lost all traces of worry as she watched the eagle soar caused an aching deep within his soul.

Once Emma O’Malley realized what Stone Connor stood for, she’d run. And when she did, she’d take all temptation with her. She’d take away his sudden desire to breathe.

She wasn’t for him, anyway. And it had nothing to do with her idealistic, pet-loving, schizophrenic attitude. He refused to care for anyone that associated with his father. Isn’t that why he’d left in the first place?

Trill laughter filtered through the closed door of the master suite. He heard voices in the kitchen and wondered who’d arrived. Checking the calendar Emma provided him with, he noted they still had an entire day before guests began invading.

Curious, Stone left the safety of his room and ventured back into the kitchen. River Run’s rooms were bursting with activity. People were hugging, crying, laughing, and talking all at once. An elderly gentleman consoled a young, Latino woman to the left. In the center of the room, a group of twenty-something, giggling girls spoke rapidly to one another using their hands when words failed.

They were everywhere.

He strode over to Emma who stood in the center of this human tornado and grabbed her arm. With a grin, she patted his hand like he was a child and yelled above the din.

“Guys, I’d like to introduce the new owner of River Run, Stone Connor.”

There was an immediate decent into silence. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at him, some accusing, some shocked.

“Mr. Connor, may I introduce the River Run staff.” Emma grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the crowd of people that had begun to form an uneven line. Her touch burned.

When was the last time he’d allowed anyone to lead?

He swallowed the longing to pull her closer, to use her as a shield against the inquisitive stares, but instead battled to remain focused and examine the odd assortment of characters wearing identical River Run t-shirts.

Emma ticked off name after name along with each person’s occupation, Maid, Landscape Artist, Culinary Assistant, Activities Coordinator, they all quickly became a blur. Stone mentally filed it away. He was wary of the glances that seemed to want his approval or required direction. Leadership wasn’t his responsibility.

Finally, Stone shook hands with his last employee. Tilly someone or other, the chef. She was a short, buxom brunette, and if she wasn’t giving him an open invitation into her pants then he was stupider than Porkahontas.

“So, like I said,” she cooed. “If you want a private sampling of the menu next week, I’ll be happy to prepare it and bring it to your suite this evening.”

“Tilly,” Emma said. Stone gazed down at his resort manager, the sharp tone in her voice amused him. “I’m certain that won’t be necessary.”

“How do you know, Em? Maybe Mr. Connor would like a little taste of my mouth-watering wares.” Stone bit his lip. It wouldn’t do to laugh in this woman’s face. He was concerned, however, that she’d treated Emma with a hint of contempt.

“Ms. Williams, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the chef replied, scuttling forward and stroking his shirt sleeve.

“I appreciate your offer of a private dinner.” He didn’t miss the spark of triumph she tossed at Emma. Frowning, he rubbed his hand over weary eyes. Normally, he’d gladly accept the catch-of-the-day, but right now he wanted to land his fist smack in the middle of little-miss-hot-potatoes forehead. “Ms. O’Malley and I have business to discuss. We’ll both dine on the back deck this evening, if it suits her schedule.”

Emma gaped at him. He furrowed his brow and glanced at the mounted bass behind her head. Glancing down at her open mouth, he resisted the urge to lift her chin. “Ms. O’Malley, does that suit you?”

“Yes sir,” she whispered.

He turned and walked out of the room, pausing outside the living room he looked over his shoulder and waved his hand. “Carry on, everyone. I’ll be back before you leave for a daily report.”

Closing the door to his suite, he relished the silence. He’d done it. An hour of masquerading as a human being, and no one had seen beyond his façade.

Collapsing on the bed, he grabbed his head and dug his palms into the pain that sliced his temples. Thirty dead eyes floated before him. He’d made the wrong choice, they accused.

He needed to forget, that’s what his therapist said. Until he pushed these faces down, into the fathoms of his soul, he’d be unable to continue.

Stone’s lip twisted up into a savage smile.

He’d won this first battle. He hadn’t failed beneath the ever watchful gaze of Emma O’Malley.

 

***

 

Emma helped Tilly stash the groceries she’d brought. The woman chattered non-stop about their handsome new boss, absolutely ignorant that he’d not been interested in her feminine wiles.

“It’ll take a while for him to warm up to me, but you’ll see.” She wagged a finger at Emma. “He’ll come around and then maybe I’ll be your boss one day.” Tilly giggled, grating on Emma’s nerves.

“Put the receipt for these items in the office, Tilly. I’m going to work in the barn.” Emma saw the disgusted eye roll the woman tossed at her but avoided the biting retaliation forming on her lips. The barn was an important aspect of River Run. The children adored playing with the animals, not to mention the abundance of fresh eggs her hens provide.

Pocahontas, rooting in the barnyard, greeted her with happy little grunts, and she bent over to scratch behind the pig’s ears. She was old, and Emma feared she’d not make another winter, which might be the best. What would happen to her if Emma left?

“We’ll not think about that, Pokey, will we?” she said.

“Think about what?” Stone asked.

“How do you
do
that?”

“What?”

“Sneak up on people. It’s very disconcerting.” Emma straightened, brushing green slime off her sleeve where Pocahontas had snuffled against her arm.

“That’s gross,” he said pointing at her hand.

“She’s a pig. It’s no different than wiping goop out of your dog’s eye.”

Stone closed his eyes, shook his head then opened them to gaze at her in amazement. “Are you some type of bunny hugger?”

“No,” she frowned. “We don’t have rabbits. Well, we did, but the coyotes got ‘em. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

He snorted and waved his hand at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I wasn’t referring to cuddling rabbits. A bunny hugger is an animal activist. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t know that?”

Emma bristled. Granted, she didn’t follow the news much, it scared her. But she’d always thought of herself as relatively well informed and in tune with things. This was idiotic. “That’s not really a term I hear on a daily basis. Sorry if I disappointed you.”

He sighed. “Look, let’s please try and get along. We need to show a united front before the employees.”

“I think we’re getting along just fine. Want to help set up for tomorrow?”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“The arrival of the twin terrors.”

“What?”

“The Bakers have two twin boys. This’ll be their third visit in two years.”

“And?”

“The boys are mean to animals.”

“Then why let them out here?” Stone leaned against the side of the barn and stared at her.

“Because they’re our guests.”

“I don’t understand. Just tell them they’re not allowed near the animals.”

“That’s diplomatic.” She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm and attempted to walk past him, but he stopped her. She was close enough to smell the spicy scent of his cologne. Tilting her head up, she gazed into his face.

Time stopped.

His eyes were warm, dark blue and curious. They bore into her soul, searching for something. Emma’s heart caught. And she panicked. Who was this man?

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“I’ve things to do.”

He nodded, his eyes suddenly clouding over and retreating back to their normal steel. “What do you want me to do?”

She swallowed and stepped back, putting distance between them. Emma didn’t understand these emotions, and honestly, she figured she’d never understand them. Better to ignore everything.

“Pocahontas’s pen needs to be reinforced with another four by six and the lock switched to the inside, out of reach of little hands.”

“Porkie’s got a pen?”

She glared and pointed to the end of the barn. “Pokey’s room is just down that way. She’ll show you the way.” Sure enough, Pocahontas trotted down the aisle and opened her door for Stone. He shook his head and followed.

Emma mucked stalls, rewired gaps in the chicken coop and made sure all gates had double locks. She attempted to ignore the presence of Stone, but his muttered expletives made her smile. “Quite a creative vocabulary you have there.”

“What?” He called from the back of the pig pen.

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