Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Bed...and Breakfast?
Chapter 1
“Do you see anything?” a woman’s voice asked, breaking the silence.
“Not yet,” a younger female voice replied impatiently. “Maybe he’s not coming today after all. I’ve got work to do.”
“We all do, Karlie. I’ve got to get back to my pie before it burns,” the first speaker said. “But this man is supposed to be our new boss. The least we can do is be out here to greet him when he arrives.”
“If he ever does,” the younger woman remarked scornfully. “It’s been over an hour already.”
Another of the small group standing on the porch of the large Victorian-style house spoke up. His voice was drawling and phlegmatic. “It’s not like any of us are looking forward to this, anyway,” he remarked, scratching at the graying hair under his cap.
A sigh swept the group. What William the Gardener said was very true. None of the five people currently standing on the porch of the Sweet Springs Bed and Breakfast were looking forward to the arrival of their new manager, but they had no choice. Apparently this man was the son of the CEO of the major corporation who had recently(For some inexplicable reason) bought the B&B, when it went on the market after its old owner had died of a heart attack. The CEO, James Burkley, had called(or his personal assistant had, anyway) and had informed the people who worked at the B&B that his son would be arriving on Tuesday, sometime around noon, to take over managing the B&B. He hadn’t provided any reason for why his offspring was being given such a minor position, and they’d been too polite to ask. But now they were all dying of curiosity(even as they felt a certain amount of apprehension mixed in over what their new boss would be like).
But it looked like their curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon. It was after one o’clock, and the new manager of the Sweet Springs B&B hadn’t yet appeared. The staff were getting restless, wanting to get back to their work. Molly, the housekeeper, a stout, pleasant-faced woman with a ready smile, leaned on the white painted railing and stared down the gravel drive. “If this is typical of our new manager, I expect we won’t like him much,” she said with a shake of her head.
Karlie, who worked as a maid part-time, shrugged as she fixed her long dark hair back into a ponytail atop her head. “I don’t think any of us believed that we’d like him anyway,” she noted dryly. “After all, why would he end up working as a manager HERE when his father is a CEO? A rich kid managing a B&B? It must be a punishment of some kind.”
There were nods of agreement from Molly, William, and Fanny, the cook. Michael, their handyman and general maintenance man, said quietly in his deep voice: “I hear a car.”
Everyone came alert. Michael had very good ears, so if he said he heard a car then he probably did. They all shaded their eyes against the afternoon sun, peering down the drive. After a moment, a glossy black limo swung onto the gravel and began to drive toward the house, pulling up in front of the porch and coming to a halt in a crunch of gravel. The driver sprang out and went to open the back door, and after a moment a foot clad in a black leather boot swung out. It was followed by its owner, a slim young man with a bored expression on his coldly-pretty face. Slender hands reached up to smooth the lapels of the long, dark-blue silk coat he was wearing, over a pair of what looked like riding jodhpurs. A nicely-shaped mouth twisted into a sneer, as a pair of eyes the color of spring leaves lifted to take in the house and its grounds.
A voice as sweetly-clear and light as a running stream spoke, disgust in every syllable. “What the hell IS this place?” the young man demanded, waving a languid hand at the B&B. “Am I going to find out that it’s built on an old Indian burial ground? Should I look for a little blonde girl staring at a television? Or perhaps Bob Newhart, and a threesome of hick brothers named Larry, Daryl, and Daryl? My God, I’m going to get my father for this.”
None of the people gathered on the porch responded, partially because they weren’t sure that they should. The young man didn’t seem to be speaking to any of them, anyway. But someone did respond - a man in a dark suit who had emerged from the back of the limo after him. “You know exactly why you’re here, Damien,” he said crisply. “And this is NOT your father’s fault. It’s yours. Just accept it and be prepared to do what he told you to do. Otherwise…” his voice took on an ominous note.
“Yes, otherwise,” the young man who was apparently named Damien Burkley replied sardonically. “Daddy will cut me off without a penny. I know, I know. But you can’t expect me to be happy about it. Exiled to Hicksville for who knows how long, just because I…”
“Had a youthful indiscretion,” the man in the suit broke in to say, his eyes fastened on the people listening avidly on the porch of the house. “That’s right. It could have been a lot worse, as you well know. Your father has interests in South America and Africa, and I truly don’t think that you’d have been happy being sent to Tunisia.”
A snort. “Fine. Whatever you say. Have my bags brought into the house, will you?” he flipped his hand at the man in the suit, who frowned at his back as he strolled away toward the porch.
“Wow,” Karlie mouthed silently, her eyes rather wide.
Damien Burkley came up the steps and onto the porch. His lidded eyes ran over them, and his mouth pursed up into a moue. “Hello, all,” he drawled. “I take it that you’re the people who work in the House of Usher here?”
Molly gasped, but Karlie responded sharply: “Yes, we’re the staff. I’m Karlie Gibbons, I work as a maid part-time. This is Molly Hines, the housekeeper. And this is Fanny Grazer, our cook. Also, William Poole is our gardener, and this is Michael Hewes, our resident handyman and general maintenance man.”
Damien had listened without interest to this recital, his eyes traveling over the people that Karlie indicated. But an interested gleam appeared in his eyes as they came to rest on Michael’s face, and he practically licked his lips as he purred: “Handyman, huh? Are you good with your…hands?” he asked as his eyes traveled up and down the handyman’s tall, broad-shouldered form avidly.
Michael’s face was impassive under this intent, lascivious scrutiny. He didn’t answer the question, either; he simply met the leaf-green eyes as they returned to his face with a rather blank stare. “Hmm, cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re mildly retarded?” Damien said. “Personally, I don’t care which it is. You could be slow for all I care; I’m not interested in your ’brains’.”
“Michael’s not retarded!” Karlie cried indignantly. “He’s just quiet, that’s all.”
Damien looked away from Michael. “Quiet is good, too,” he said with a shrug. “He doesn’t need to be able to talk,” he added with a distinct leer at the handyman.
“Damien, behave yourself,” the man in the suit snapped as he came up onto the porch, followed by the driver who was laden with an obviously heavy set of designer luggage. He was wavering under the load, until Michael stepped over to him and divested him of much of it.
He silently draped the bags over his arms as the driver said gratefully: “Thanks, man.”
The man in the suit scowled at Damien Buckley, who had turned to give him a scathing look. “You’re not my babysitter, Ross,” he said tartly. “What are you going to do when you have to fly back to New York? You can’t follow after me when you’re hundreds of miles away.”
“No, I can’t,” the man named Ross agreed tiredly. “But I CAN get frequent reports about your behavior from the staff here.”
Damien folded his arms over his chest. “You do that, and I’ll fire them for being traitors,” he said. “I won’t have any of them reporting back to you about what I choose to do.”
“You can’t fire them; they work for your father,” Ross told him acerbically.
“Oh, can’t I? You should have read that contract that Daddy forced me to sign when he made me manager of this place,” Damien replied sweetly. “It gives me complete discretion to do whatever I want here. Daddy was so desperate to exile me here that he would have agreed if I’d said I wanted to bulldoze this gingerbread horror and replace it with a replica of the Taj Mahal - done in neon,” he drawled. “Firing a few employees is nothing compared to that. I won’t be spied on, Ross. Remember that.” the savage tone of voice he spoke in made Molly and Fanny flinch a little, though Karlie only gave his turned back a scornful look.
“You win this time, Damien,” the man in the suit conceded reluctantly.
Damien lifted a brow. “Of course I do. I AM my father’s son - even if he doesn’t want to admit that. So…will you show me where I’ll be sleeping, Michael?” he said, dismissing Ross and turning to the handyman.
Michael silently turned and led the way into the B&B, the driver following after him with his lighter load of luggage. Damien strolled after them both, his eyes on Michael’s ass in the worn jeans the handyman was wearing. Ross sighed and turned to the rest of the staff. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he said apologetically. “My employer has authorized me to tell you that each of you will be receiving a large raise and a generous bonus for your…patience and understanding.”
They exchanged glances. Putting up with the major headache that their new ‘manager’ was going to represent, weighed against a lot more money in their paychecks…Karlie finally spoke up. “Err…Mr…?”
“Ross. Gavin Ross,” the man in the suit replied.
“Mr. Ross. Mr. Buckley…is he…” she hesitated, looking uncomfortable to talk about something so personal.
“Damien enjoys the company of other men, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gavin Ross said tactfully.
“Oh, okay. It’s not that we have anything against that,” Karlie added hurriedly. “It’s just that…Michael’s…that way….too. And we don’t want him to bother Michael, you see,” she went on, as the other nodded. “He’s been through a lot. We don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Oh, I see,” Gavin Ross said slowly. “Well, I don’t know what to say about that. Damien is very aggressive when he’s pursuing someone he’s interested in. And I for one have never been able to change his mind about anything - nor has his father. Do you really believe that this Michael can’t hold his own against Damien?”
More exchanges of glances. “I guess he could,” Karlie remarked reluctantly at last.
Gavin Ross shrugged. “Then it will be up to him to decide whether he wants to put up with Damien’s inevitable sexual harassment or not,” he said bluntly. “If he doesn’t want to, we’ll give him a generous severance package and try to help him find another job. That’s all that I can do, I’m afraid.”
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Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Bed...and Breakfast?
Chapter 1
“Do you see anything?” a woman’s voice asked, breaking the silence.
“Not yet,” a younger female voice replied impatiently. “Maybe he’s not coming today after all. I’ve got work to do.”
“We all do, Karlie. I’ve got to get back to my pie before it burns,” the first speaker said. “But this man is supposed to be our new boss. The least we can do is be out here to greet him when he arrives.”
“If he ever does,” the younger woman remarked scornfully. “It’s been over an hour already.”
Another of the small group standing on the porch of the large Victorian-style house spoke up. His voice was drawling and phlegmatic. “It’s not like any of us are looking forward to this, anyway,” he remarked, scratching at the graying hair under his cap.
A sigh swept the group. What William the Gardener said was very true. None of the five people currently standing on the porch of the Sweet Springs Bed and Breakfast were looking forward to the arrival of their new manager, but they had no choice. Apparently this man was the son of the CEO of the major corporation who had recently(For some inexplicable reason) bought the B&B, when it went on the market after its old owner had died of a heart attack. The CEO, James Burkley, had called(or his personal assistant had, anyway) and had informed the people who worked at the B&B that his son would be arriving on Tuesday, sometime around noon, to take over managing the B&B. He hadn’t provided any reason for why his offspring was being given such a minor position, and they’d been too polite to ask. But now they were all dying of curiosity(even as they felt a certain amount of apprehension mixed in over what their new boss would be like).
But it looked like their curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon. It was after one o’clock, and the new manager of the Sweet Springs B&B hadn’t yet appeared. The staff were getting restless, wanting to get back to their work. Molly, the housekeeper, a stout, pleasant-faced woman with a ready smile, leaned on the white painted railing and stared down the gravel drive. “If this is typical of our new manager, I expect we won’t like him much,” she said with a shake of her head.
Karlie, who worked as a maid part-time, shrugged as she fixed her long dark hair back into a ponytail atop her head. “I don’t think any of us believed that we’d like him anyway,” she noted dryly. “After all, why would he end up working as a manager HERE when his father is a CEO? A rich kid managing a B&B? It must be a punishment of some kind.”
There were nods of agreement from Molly, William, and Fanny, the cook. Michael, their handyman and general maintenance man, said quietly in his deep voice: “I hear a car.”
Everyone came alert. Michael had very good ears, so if he said he heard a car then he probably did. They all shaded their eyes against the afternoon sun, peering down the drive. After a moment, a glossy black limo swung onto the gravel and began to drive toward the house, pulling up in front of the porch and coming to a halt in a crunch of gravel. The driver sprang out and went to open the back door, and after a moment a foot clad in a black leather boot swung out. It was followed by its owner, a slim young man with a bored expression on his coldly-pretty face. Slender hands reached up to smooth the lapels of the long, dark-blue silk coat he was wearing, over a pair of what looked like riding jodhpurs. A nicely-shaped mouth twisted into a sneer, as a pair of eyes the color of spring leaves lifted to take in the house and its grounds.
A voice as sweetly-clear and light as a running stream spoke, disgust in every syllable. “What the hell IS this place?” the young man demanded, waving a languid hand at the B&B. “Am I going to find out that it’s built on an old Indian burial ground? Should I look for a little blonde girl staring at a television? Or perhaps Bob Newhart, and a threesome of hick brothers named Larry, Daryl, and Daryl? My God, I’m going to get my father for this.”
None of the people gathered on the porch responded, partially because they weren’t sure that they should. The young man didn’t seem to be speaking to any of them, anyway. But someone did respond - a man in a dark suit who had emerged from the back of the limo after him. “You know exactly why you’re here, Damien,” he said crisply. “And this is NOT your father’s fault. It’s yours. Just accept it and be prepared to do what he told you to do. Otherwise…” his voice took on an ominous note.
“Yes, otherwise,” the young man who was apparently named Damien Burkley replied sardonically. “Daddy will cut me off without a penny. I know, I know. But you can’t expect me to be happy about it. Exiled to Hicksville for who knows how long, just because I…”
“Had a youthful indiscretion,” the man in the suit broke in to say, his eyes fastened on the people listening avidly on the porch of the house. “That’s right. It could have been a lot worse, as you well know. Your father has interests in South America and Africa, and I truly don’t think that you’d have been happy being sent to Tunisia.”
A snort. “Fine. Whatever you say. Have my bags brought into the house, will you?” he flipped his hand at the man in the suit, who frowned at his back as he strolled away toward the porch.
“Wow,” Karlie mouthed silently, her eyes rather wide.
Damien Burkley came up the steps and onto the porch. His lidded eyes ran over them, and his mouth pursed up into a moue. “Hello, all,” he drawled. “I take it that you’re the people who work in the House of Usher here?”
Molly gasped, but Karlie responded sharply: “Yes, we’re the staff. I’m Karlie Gibbons, I work as a maid part-time. This is Molly Hines, the housekeeper. And this is Fanny Grazer, our cook. Also, William Poole is our gardener, and this is Michael Hewes, our resident handyman and general maintenance man.”
Damien had listened without interest to this recital, his eyes traveling over the people that Karlie indicated. But an interested gleam appeared in his eyes as they came to rest on Michael’s face, and he practically licked his lips as he purred: “Handyman, huh? Are you good with your…hands?” he asked as his eyes traveled up and down the handyman’s tall, broad-shouldered form avidly.
Michael’s face was impassive under this intent, lascivious scrutiny. He didn’t answer the question, either; he simply met the leaf-green eyes as they returned to his face with a rather blank stare. “Hmm, cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re mildly retarded?” Damien said. “Personally, I don’t care which it is. You could be slow for all I care; I’m not interested in your ’brains’.”
“Michael’s not retarded!” Karlie cried indignantly. “He’s just quiet, that’s all.”
Damien looked away from Michael. “Quiet is good, too,” he said with a shrug. “He doesn’t need to be able to talk,” he added with a distinct leer at the handyman.
“Damien, behave yourself,” the man in the suit snapped as he came up onto the porch, followed by the driver who was laden with an obviously heavy set of designer luggage. He was wavering under the load, until Michael stepped over to him and divested him of much of it.
He silently draped the bags over his arms as the driver said gratefully: “Thanks, man.”
The man in the suit scowled at Damien Buckley, who had turned to give him a scathing look. “You’re not my babysitter, Ross,” he said tartly. “What are you going to do when you have to fly back to New York? You can’t follow after me when you’re hundreds of miles away.”
“No, I can’t,” the man named Ross agreed tiredly. “But I CAN get frequent reports about your behavior from the staff here.”
Damien folded his arms over his chest. “You do that, and I’ll fire them for being traitors,” he said. “I won’t have any of them reporting back to you about what I choose to do.”
“You can’t fire them; they work for your father,” Ross told him acerbically.
“Oh, can’t I? You should have read that contract that Daddy forced me to sign when he made me manager of this place,” Damien replied sweetly. “It gives me complete discretion to do whatever I want here. Daddy was so desperate to exile me here that he would have agreed if I’d said I wanted to bulldoze this gingerbread horror and replace it with a replica of the Taj Mahal - done in neon,” he drawled. “Firing a few employees is nothing compared to that. I won’t be spied on, Ross. Remember that.” the savage tone of voice he spoke in made Molly and Fanny flinch a little, though Karlie only gave his turned back a scornful look.
“You win this time, Damien,” the man in the suit conceded reluctantly.
Damien lifted a brow. “Of course I do. I AM my father’s son - even if he doesn’t want to admit that. So…will you show me where I’ll be sleeping, Michael?” he said, dismissing Ross and turning to the handyman.
Michael silently turned and led the way into the B&B, the driver following after him with his lighter load of luggage. Damien strolled after them both, his eyes on Michael’s ass in the worn jeans the handyman was wearing. Ross sighed and turned to the rest of the staff. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he said apologetically. “My employer has authorized me to tell you that each of you will be receiving a large raise and a generous bonus for your…patience and understanding.”
They exchanged glances. Putting up with the major headache that their new ‘manager’ was going to represent, weighed against a lot more money in their paychecks…Karlie finally spoke up. “Err…Mr…?”
“Ross. Gavin Ross,” the man in the suit replied.
“Mr. Ross. Mr. Buckley…is he…” she hesitated, looking uncomfortable to talk about something so personal.
“Damien enjoys the company of other men, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gavin Ross said tactfully.
“Oh, okay. It’s not that we have anything against that,” Karlie added hurriedly. “It’s just that…Michael’s…that way….too. And we don’t want him to bother Michael, you see,” she went on, as the other nodded. “He’s been through a lot. We don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Oh, I see,” Gavin Ross said slowly. “Well, I don’t know what to say about that. Damien is very aggressive when he’s pursuing someone he’s interested in. And I for one have never been able to change his mind about anything - nor has his father. Do you really believe that this Michael can’t hold his own against Damien?”
More exchanges of glances. “I guess he could,” Karlie remarked reluctantly at last.
Gavin Ross shrugged. “Then it will be up to him to decide whether he wants to put up with Damien’s inevitable sexual harassment or not,” he said bluntly. “If he doesn’t want to, we’ll give him a generous severance package and try to help him find another job. That’s all that I can do, I’m afraid.”
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