What The Heart Knows (10 page)

The
kitchen was empty. Emily had a momentary surge of panic that she had
slept through breakfast service before she looked at the clock and
realized it was only six-thirty. That made no sense. The kitchen
should be bustling, rushing to make greasy breakfast potatoes and
huge omelets to help with all the hangovers. That was tradition. They
should be packed.

She
made her way into the dining room, finding only worrisome silence.
She walked into the hallway to see a sign there saying that breakfast
service would be delayed until seven a.m and apologizing for any
inconvenience.

What
the actual hell was going on? No one delayed breakfast. That was not
how things worked. You had set hours and you kept them. Besides, she
was the only one with the authority to delay and kind of guest
services. And while the night was a drunken blur, she was pretty sure
she was way too far gone to write such a neat sign.

She
froze in the hallway. James.

Then
she heard the voices, calm, eager, coming from the sitting room. She
took a long sip of her coffee as she followed the noise, stopping
dead in the doorway. All the staff, from the waiters and maid to
Meggie, Alec, and Devon were all seated on the couch and chairs, some
perching on the edges. Two of the waiters sat on the coffee table.
James was the only one standing, an undeniable assertion of
authority. He was in front
of the fireplace looking more professional than she had seen him
before. He had on brown slacks with a faint white plaid pattern, a
white t-shirt, and a brown sweater vest.

His
head turned to her when he caught her standing there, his eyes
looking bright, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips.
Then he completely ignored her and went back to his speech.

A
staff meeting. He had called a staff meeting. And, as if that wasn't
bad enough, he hadn't told her about it. He hadn't asked her to
attend.

She
stood there in fuming silence for the duration of the meeting, her
headache turning into a full blown migraine as she got more and more
tense as each moment passed. It hadn't exactly escaped her notice
that in front of her employees he seemed calm, collected,
knowledgeable, and authoritative without seeming intimidating.

She
must have missed the meat and potatoes of the conversation because
all he was talking about was the acquisition not effecting their
employment or their hours, assuring them that it was actually for the
best because with EM Corp came a phenomenal benefits package and
yadda yadda yadda. A spiel he had certainly given a dozen times
before. How much of it was actually true?

He
clapped is hands together suddenly, making her jump. “Alright,
well, I think that about covers the basics. I will keep everyone up
to date about changes before they happen. And you can always come to
me if you have any questions.”

Everyone
got up, looking relieved. Happy even, as they trailed passed her.
Traitors. She had a staff full of traitors, falling hook line and
sinker for the big city promises. And judging by the dreamy look in
Meggie's eyes, falling for James' sickening charm as well.

Emily
lowered her eyes at Meggie as she passed and Meggie had the good
sense to smother her smile and rush by.

Alone,
the silence drug on for an uncomfortable moment. Devon stood behind
the desk for a moment before sensing the explosive energy between his
two bosses and wisely ran down the hallway to the kitchen.

“What
the fuck do you think you are doing?” Emily asked, her voice
deceptively quiet.

James
tilted his head at her. “Having a staff meeting,” he
said, shrugging. “I needed to introduce myself formally to
everyone. Set their minds at ease.”

Emily
reached out and put her coffee cup on the window sill before she
decided to fling it across the room at his head. “I know you
own this place now and everything,” she started, her voice
venomous. “but I am still management. I am supposed to be the
one organizing and informing staff of meetings. You are undermining
my authority by not even having the decency to let me continue doing
my job. For god's sake,” she said, getting louder. “you
didn't even fucking tell me about this!”

James
smiled, a slow, amused smile. “It was last minute. I got up
early and caught everyone before they started their work for the day.
I figured that no one is getting up in town and coming in for
breakfast at six a.m after how late everyone was at the school last
night.”

“Regardless,”
Emily said, biting the insides of her cheeks. “I should have
been informed.”

“Well
that's the thing,” James said, looking dangerously close to
laughing. “I knocked on your door this morning when I first got
the idea. Before,” he said firmly. “I talked to any
employees.”

He
had? She had absolutely no recollection of that.

At
her confused look, he smiled wider, bringing a hand up and rubbing
his cheek, trying to mask his amusement. “Yeah... I talked to
you about it through the door. And...”

Emily
felt her stomach twist painfully, making her worry that she might
genuinely throw up. Her poor, poor alcohol weakened stomach. What the
hell had she said?

“And
you told me that if I didn't get the fuck away from your door that
you were going to go to the kitchen, grab a really dull knife, and
castrate me with it.”

Emily
almost laughed. It was good to know that even half-conscious, still
drunk Emily had some of her conscious, sober sass. “Fine,”
she said, shaking her head and reaching for her cup. She was going to
need gallons of coffee to get through the day. “Whatever.”
She turned to walk away and he
called
her back. She turned slowly, an eyebrow arching. “What?”

James
stifled his smile. She was fuming. He should have seen that coming,
but it honestly hadn't occurred to him how pissed she would be about
a staff meeting. “I have some things for you,” he said,
stooping and grabbing some items off the floor.

Emily
felt her headache pounding worse, making her nauseated. Were those...
her shoes? How had he gotten her shoes? She hadn't even stopped to
consider the idea that she took someone to bed the night before. Had
she gone up to his room? How the hell else would be have her shoes?
Oh, god. And those were her gloves. Then he extended his hand,
opening his fist and there in his palm was one of her earrings. Jesus
Christ. She never got so drunk that she didn't remember a hook up.
That was so beyond acceptable that she felt an unfamiliar rush of
shame overtake her.

She
stepped forward, snatching the earring out of his hand. “Didn't
think I was too far gone for that, huh?” she asked, trying to
sound casual.

James
heard her voice waver, sounding almost close to tears. He looked into
her eyes, big and worried. It hit him then. He was standing there
with various items of her clothing. And she had been practically
black-out drunk the night before. Oh, the poor thing. And, Christ,
what a low opinion she really had of him. He stepped forward,
reaching for her face and watching her flinch away. “Hey,”
he said, his voice low and comforting. “whatever you think
happened last night, it didn't.”

She
wanted to believe him. She really did. But she also knew how flirty
she got with a few drinks in her. And she liked sex. She was free
about her sexuality. It seemed completely plausible that she had
suggested they go back to his room. “Yeah,” she said,
sounding defeated even to herself. “sure.”

“Emily,”
he said, shocking her with the use of her first name. His head dipped
lower and his blue eyes found her lighter ones. “we did not
have sex. Not that I wouldn't have loved that. And I know how hot you
found my whole vampire vibe and wanted to do it in my coffin,”
he laughed.

Oh,
good god.

“Yeah,”
he nodded, smiling. “apparently you've never had sex in a
coffin before. But anyway... you weren't exactly in a place where you
were able to make that kind of decision. I walked you back to your
room and helped you pull your zipper down. I didn't even get to see
any of your tasty bits.”

He
wasn't lying, she realized with a rush of relief. “Then how...”
she said, gesturing toward her gloves and shoes.

“Yes,
well,” he said, smirking. “apparently alcohol makes your
clothes fall off. You just kept discarding things as we walked across
the street. After telling Sheriff Aiden that you feel nothing when
you kiss me.”

Emily
felt her cheeks redden. Aiden was a good guy. Took all her
shenanigans with a grain of salt thanks to his big city life before
moving to Stars Landing. But he was an authority figure. And she
really respected him. Declaring things like that to him was way more
than a little humiliating. “Great,” she said, shaking her
head. “I think I owe him an explanation now.”
“He's
a grown man, Emily,” James said, shrugging a shoulder. “I'm
sure he's seen a woman drunk before.”

He
was right. Aiden had probably just laughed it off. Everyone was drunk
last night. Someone else was bound to make a bigger fool of
themselves than she had. She looked up at James, relaxed and
nonchalant. As much as she hated to admit it, she owed him. “Hey,”
she started, wanting to get the words out fast so she could flee.
“thanks for...”

“Stop,”
he said, shaking his head, handing her her gloves. “you don't
need to thank me for walking you home for god's sake. I mean... I
can't blame you for wanting to spend time in my company. I'm
fantastic.”

“And
so humble,” she said, rolling her eyes. She looked up, seeing
the kind eyes, seeing the amusement, knowing that behind all the
flirting and the humor was someone who was actually really
intelligent, someone kind and good.

And
she realized with a blinding, uncomfortable clarity that she was
really into him. Not just attracted to him. It wasn't just an itch
she wanted to scratch anymore. She liked him. As a person. As more
than just a hot body and cool sense of style.

She
friggen liked him.

As
if she didn't have enough stuff to worry about. That was just great.
Wonderful.

“What's
that look for?” James asked, his brows drawing together. There
was a momentary glimpse of some kind of softness, quickly replaced
with exasperation.

“Nothing,”
Emily said, moving back toward the door. “It's nothing.”

And
that was what she tried to keep convincing herself of all day. It was
nothing. No big deal. She was just hungover and weak and thankful
that he hadn't screwed her drunk brains out. That was the only
possible explanation for her thinking she might actually like him.

Meggie,
feeling guilty for her traitorous behavior, cooked her up a massive
omelet, hashbrowns, and a short stack of pancakes. Lena showed up
late with her delivery, huge dark sunglasses blocking her eyes from
the light, moving slowly like every motion hurt. Clearly she was
suffering the effects of the Widow Makers too. Poor Lena didn't even
have the years of experience with them that Emily did. She
practically threw a plastic container full of various danishes at
Meggie, mumbling something about a slow death, and shuffling back
out.

Emily
held her glass of water to her forehead. “Maude better not show
her face in town today,” she said, making her fourth cup of
coffee of the morning. “I think there would be pitchforks and
angry villagers.”

Meggie
laughed, flipping a long row of pancakes. “I learned my lesson
about the lethal-ness of Maude's drinks my first time here for the
Christmas festivities. I've never been fall down drunk from a hot
toddie before.”

“If
I recall correctly,” Emily added, sinking into her coffee cup.
“there was also eggnog and hot buttered rum involved.”

“Augh,”
Meggie said, grimacing, holding her belly. “don't remind me.”

The
door swung open and Meggie's smile changed. She didn't need to turn
around. “You,” she accused, her back to him. “how
the hell are you still standing? You should be in bed nursing a
hangover to end all hangovers.”

James
laughed, walking over and grabbing a danish. “I don't get
hangovers. Never have.”

“Oh,
you can just go straight to hell,” Emily grumbled. All she
wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep for three days
straight. While getting fluids in an IV.

James
laughed, looking down at her. She really did look like she was
suffering, her eyes small and puffy, wearing those god-awful clothes.
He had been out on the front porch, watching as the townspeople
slowly emerged, walking very much like zombies, most with a bit of
the last night's makeup still clinging to their skin. Everyone either
had on blackout sunglasses or were shielding their eyes from the
harsh morning sun. It was more than a little funny to see an entire
town suffering from hangovers.