Chapter Six
Clad in jeans, tennis shoes, and an old flannel shirt of her brother’s, Kinsley slipped into work the next morning through the back door.
“Is Damon here yet?” she whispered to Elena.
Elena looked up from the registration desk, took one look at her outfit, and chuckled. “I didn’t know casual Friday was now on Wednesday.”
“Just answer the question. I have a muffin tray in my car that you can have first dibs on if you do.”
“In that case, no, I haven’t seen him yet. Does the tray have those banana muffins I like?”
Kinsley nodded. “Yes. The ones with the peanut-butter chips.”
“Ooh, you’re the best,” her friend said, lightly clapping her hands. “I just hope you’re not doing anything that will put your job in jeopardy. Because, if that’s the case, I’ll really miss you bringing in those muffins.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong.” She winced at her own tone. She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.
“Right. Because you always sneak around the hotel in your brother’s clothes.”
“This?” Kinsley fingered the hem of the shirt fondly. It was extra soft and had a comfortable worn-in quality that you could never buy straight out of the store. “I needed painting clothes, so I swiped it from Wade’s place. I actually may keep it.”
Elena shook her head. “You’re painting? Oh, dear.”
Kinsley’s text alert went off. The painters were here. This was her chance to bring in the crew before Damon saw anyone enter. She walked outside the main entrance and looked around to make sure the coast was still clear. Once she was sure Damon wasn’t anywhere around, she waved them in. Her father’s old handyman, Mr. Knotts, and two of his workmen, carrying buckets of paint, brushes, and a ladder, came bustling through the doors.
“Okay, guys, straight ahead and then make a right at the end of the hall,” she said, directing them.
Mr. Knotts, a balding man of sixty-four, paused before following his men. “Would have been here sooner, Kinsley, but that paint store on 55th street was blocked off because of high tidal flooding.”
“It’s no problem, Mr. Knotts,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m just so thankful you can give me a few hours of your time at all.”
“Well, if you cook anything like your mama then I’m definitely the one who’s making out on this deal,” he said with a wink.
She laughed. “Well, we’ll see about that. But I never renege on a promise. In fact, I’ll throw in some cornbread with that chili, too.”
“You’re an angel.”
“I’ve got muffins in my car for you and your men. I’ll let you guys set up first and then I’ll be there in a few minutes to set out a tray for you.”
“Thanks, doll. I better go check in on my crew now. We have a job scheduled tomorrow, so we’ll be here all day today to try to get at least one full coat on. Then I’ll come back the day after to do another coat.”
“Sounds good. I’ll help in any way you need, too.”
As Mr. Knotts headed toward the ballroom, Kinsley took out her car keys to go grab the muffin tray. Judy Tavish at the Drip N Sip was so nice and did such a great job putting this party tray together for her. She didn’t know how Wade could be so upset with such a sweet lady for trying to fix him up. The woman obviously liked making people happy, and that included matchmaking. Although she didn’t seem to be in such a hurry to fix Kinsley up with anyone. She figured she would be on her radar now that everyone knew her engagement had bombed.
Balancing the tray with her hip, Kinsley eased back inside the hotel and caught the folded arms and disapproving expression of her friend. Kinsley placed the tray down and began unwrapping the plastic wrap. She handed Elena a banana muffin, which she eagerly took and began eating without hesitation.
“I thought maybe you were just hungry, but the muffin isn’t taking that look off your face,” Kinsley said with a teasing grin. “What’s wrong?”
Elena stopped chewing. “Do you really need to ask? Did Damon give you permission for all this?” she asked, flailing her hands toward the ballroom.
“Um, sort of.”
Elena sighed. “I don’t like where this is heading.”
“Oh, calm yourself. It’ll be fine. Last night, I ran into Damon at Frank and Kathy’s Bistro. We came to an understanding, by which he explained to me that I could not do any renovations using the hotel’s budget. And I agreed.”
Elena gave her a skeptical glance. “Okay, so if you agreed, why are you sneaking painters in behind Damon’s back? And if you don’t have permission to use hotel money then how are you paying for all this?”
“Elena, Elena, you worry too much,” she said, patting her friend’s hand. “Relax. I’ve got it all under control.”
Someone behind them coughed then cleared his throat. “And what exactly do you have all under control?”
Damon! Kinsley whirled around, all her carefully formulated defenses coming together in one jumbled-up thought. “I— Oh my gosh, Damon, you look awful.” She rushed over to him, afraid he was about to pass out on her.
“What? I’m fine, really,” he said, waving off her concern. “I just need some allergy medicine.”
Kinsley tried to keep her expression neutral, but it looked like a lot more than just allergies to her. Damon’s normally tanned face appeared muted and dull. He’d skipped the sports coat this morning, opting for a slightly rumpled blue dress shirt, no tie. Not his usual polished attire, although one could argue that this more relaxed look suited him better, if not for the watery eyes and light perspiration dotting his forehead.
Kinsley exchanged concerned glances with Elena. “Um, if you say so. The cat isn’t here today anyway. But if she comes by, we’ll make sure we won’t let her in.”
Damon coughed and nodded. “Thank you,” he wheezed out. Then he squinted as his eyes raked her up and down. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked.
“Just, uh, doing a little hands-on work today.” She shot Elena a warning glance to not say a word about the painters then pasted on a false smile for Damon. “Didn’t want to get a run in my pantyhose, so I just threw on jeans and this old thing.”
Damon reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her oversize flannel that probably looked more like a muumuu than an actual shirt. “Cute,” he said with a grin.
Her cheeks automatically ignited. Calm down, Kinsley. He didn’t call you a sex kitten. He called you cute. Even Dopey the Dwarf is considered cute. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Their gazes locked and held. Damon’s grin slowly dissolved as he continued to study her face. He looked as if something else was on his mind. He stepped closer, and his nearness kindled a restless feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Elena cleared her throat. “Should I call the pharmacy to deliver some medicine?”
Damon blinked, looking slightly disoriented. “Uh, no,” he said, backing away from Kinsley. “I’ll be fine as long as I don’t see the cat today. I’ll pick something up after work.”
Just then a loud crash came from the ballroom.
“What’s that?” Damon asked, taking a step in that direction.
Kinsley shifted and blocked his way. “Nothing. Probably Colette.”
He frowned. “I thought you said she wasn’t in the hotel.”
“Oh. Then it’s probably the mice.”
“Kinsley…”
Another crash sounded. Then a string of curses broke through the air.
His brows lifted. “The mice around here sure use colorful language.”
“I can explain,” she said, lifting spread hands before him.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Just then Mr. Knotts came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Kinsley, dear, I just wanted you to know nothing is broken and no paint is spilled. Old Bob’s been having problems with the new ladder and keeps knocking it over. But don’t worry. It’s all fixed and he won’t disturb your guests again.”
Kinsley held in a sigh. Not exactly how she wanted to “explain” everything to Damon. “That’s okay, Mr. Knotts. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Should I take this muffin tray with me?” he asked, eyeing it longingly.
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Damon folded his arms as he watched Mr. Knotts retreat into the ballroom with the tray of muffins. “So…” he said, swinging his gaze back to her, “would Mr. Knotts and Old Bob be what you were about to explain to me?”
“Yes. I hired them to spruce up the ballroom with a fresh coat of paint. Nothing major. But before you get all worked up, you have to know I did not use or plan to use any part of the hotel budget.”
“But I can’t let you pay it out of pocket. Kinsley, this is such a waste of—”
“I’m not paying for it, either.”
Damon scratched his head. “Care to elaborate? Why would they paint if they’re not getting paid?”
“Well, they agreed to help me because I asked.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure they did. Want to try that again?”
“It’s true! Cape Harmony is a small town. They were friends with my parents. Mr. Knotts ’ wife passed away about a year ago. And if you must know, they sort of are getting paid. Just not with money. I promised a free weekend stay here at the hotel to the guys and a batch of my homemade chili, plus two pies to Mr. Knotts.”
“Two pies?”
“One blueberry and one pecan.” Truth be told, she thought two pies were a little much. After all, he was only one man. But the amount of money he had saved her in painting costs was worth the extra baking effort.
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight. You bartered your cooking skills for a paint job?”
She fidgeted under his bladelike stare. “Um, yes?”
He let out a chuckle. “Why did I ever underestimate you?”
“I’m pretty used to it.” She looked away.
It was actually one of the sticking points between her and Paul and why she ultimately decided to leave her job with the casino. She had never noticed it while they were together, but after their breakup, Paul was constantly finding ways to put her job performance down. Especially in front of her peers. Unfortunately, she was just vulnerable enough to start doubting her own abilities and believing what Paul was telling her. She had to get out of that toxic environment. Better for her to leave first than get fired later. Maybe things would have been different if she stayed and had fought for her job. But now she’d never know.
Damon lifted her chin with his finger. “Hey, don’t look so glum,” he said, his voice softening. “You did good. Well, more like you did okay.”
Her eyes widened. “I did? Thank you. I hoped you’d see it my way.”
“Let’s not go nuts. I still question the professionalism and legality of your actions and the whole craziness of the situation. However, I’m guessing in this town, stuff like that flies all the time?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much.”
That drew a brief grin from him. “Thought so.”
She bit her lip, observing his pale complexion. “Um, are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I’m expecting a phone call. Just try to keep the Three Stooges over there from disturbing the guests any more than they already have. Okay?”
She half saluted. “Got it, boss.” He turned to walk back to his office. The situation played out a lot smoother than she expected—minus him making her about as breathless as a sixteen-year-old with those deep, languid stares of his. Maybe Damon’s allergies had gotten the better of him, or maybe they were actually making some leeway on seeing eye-to-eye on the future of the hotel. Either way, she appreciated his understanding. So much so that as she studied his retreating back, she felt compelled to call out to him.
He stopped and raised his brows expectantly.
Speak, Kinsley. Speak. “Um, I just wanted to say thank you. Again. You had every right to kick Mr. Knotts and his team out of here earlier.”
“You’re welcome. But I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
“Well, by every right as the new owner, you did have a choice.”
Damon met her gaze and held it silently for a long moment. “No,” he said softly, turning away, “I really didn’t.”
…
Damon collapsed into his office chair with a whoosh.
Maybe he should have taken Elena’s offer to get him something from the pharmacy, because right now, he felt like his head weighed about fifty pounds. His back and shoulders ached, too. Probably from this antique office chair. He would get a cup or two of coffee in his system then go see if Kinsley had any aspirin.
Kinsley.
What was he going to do about her? He already knew what he’d like to do with her and to her. That wasn’t the issue, except that it had nothing at all to do with business or proper boss–employee relations. And that’s where the real problem lay.
Kinsley was a funny and unique woman—like the town itself—that’s for sure. It kept him off-balance, the ability she had to surprise him all the time. One day she was strong and verbally fighting him to the death, and the next, she was vulnerable and hopeful, trying any way she could to keep the hotel viable for as long as possible. Two seconds in her company and she had him eating out of the palm of her hand—he, Mr. Knotts, and he was sure the rest of the painting crew as well. The thing was…she was so damn hard to say no to.
Strange. He’d never had that problem before. He was a well-respected CEO. Yet, in the span of three days, he’d become a cat-petting, smoothie-drinking, wanting-to-be-friends-with-his-employee old softy. He ran a hand through his hair.
His cell phone rang, and he looked down. It was the call he’d been expecting. And dreading.
“Hi, Dad,” he answered.
“Damon,” his father said in his gruff voice, “how is everything going in New Jersey?”
Damon looked out the window at the beautiful spring sunshine sparkling over the Atlantic Ocean. Spectacular. Not the first thing that would normally have come to mind if someone had mentioned Jersey to him. It and the people here were both a pleasant surprise.
“It’s not quite New York,” he answered, keeping his voice deliberately neutral. In New York City, he could blend. He was just another face in the crowd. A loner. Easier to keep to himself. But, in Cape Harmony, he was already feeling under the spotlight with people wanting to know more about him and his plans for The Harbor Light.
Joseph St. James chuckled. “Yes, I’ve been. It’s very true. So, let’s get down to business, shall we? What’s the status down there?”
Damon held in a sigh. Of course. With his father there was never time for chitchat—even with his own son. Without hesitation, he logged onto his laptop. “Well, looking at the balance sheet from last year—”
“You have their balance sheet?”
“Yes. The balance sheet for The Harbor Light Hotel.”
“No, no. I want to know the status of the Atlantic City acquisition. That casino that was built way over budget. What was it, The Coastal?”
Damon sat back, perplexed. Then he remembered. The casino buyout. Crap, it’d completely slipped his mind. He’d been so busy with Kinsley and the hotel, he hadn’t given anything or anyone else a second thought. He was so screwed. “Uh, yeah, The Coastal. To be honest, when I didn’t hear from Smith’s attorney, I didn’t bother to follow up.”
“Didn’t bother to follow up? Dammit, Damon. I’ve fired people for less than that. That was prime property we could have gotten for practically a song and a can of soda. What the hell were you thinking?”
Damon rubbed a hand down his face, his headache growing worse. “I know. They were desperate to sell ever since their bankruptcy, but I think there might have been some contention with the city. Several bids had been withdrawn as a result.”
“You think there was contention? You don’t make business deals on speculation, son. Only on facts. The deadline has passed, and you blew it. I was counting on that. Counting on you.”
The frustration in his father’s voice had the guilt that always floated just beneath the surface of their conversations came rising to the top. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Damon winced at his own words. A wave of nausea hit him as he relived the last time he’d apologized to his dad.
“You were supposed to bring your brother home. Why didn’t you stay at the party?”
“I was exhausted. I had just taken my last final.”
“He counted on you. I counted on you.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad.”
Damon tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone bone dry. His skin felt on fire and too tight for his body. “My mind was on other things, Dad. I’ve been working on the hotel here in Cape Harmony. It needs work, but it has a great location.”
“Yeah, yeah, see what you can salvage out of that place at least. I saw the specs. Not a bad property. Could be worth something in the end. In the meantime, I’ll send some feelers out to other casinos in the area. A lot took a hit when that wave of bankruptcy swept Atlantic City. I definitely want in there. There’s a rumor that one of the universities may set up some housing and classes there as a satellite location. That will bring in a new dynamic. So stay put for a while, I’ll let you know if anyone is willing to meet with us.”
“Okay. And again, I’m sorry.”
His dad was quiet for a moment. Eventually he uttered, “This can be fixed.” Then he ended the call.
Damon placed his phone down, steeling his emotions. Damn. He’d let his father down again. He’d gotten his thinly veiled message. This mistake he made could be fixed. The mistake he made the night his brother died could not. Another reminder of how unworthy Damon was to be the one still living, and that Damon was to blame.
He had to make this hotel a worthy investment. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to win his father’s approval. He had it once, when he was younger. While his brother was joining sports teams and spending hours out of the house at practices, Damon and his father had bonded watching old movies together. It’s where his appreciation for that classic era had stemmed. For a while, that time had been special for them. Then Damon had gone off to college and Carson had died. Things had never been the same between them since.
But he could barely dwell on it or let it affect him like he usually allowed it to. The heaviness of his head weighed him down, and all he wanted at that moment was to close his eyes. So he slid his laptop over and gently laid his head on his desk. He couldn’t think about his father or property acquisitions right now. Visions of a pretty brunette with doe-like eyes filled his thoughts instead.