Her Alpha Saviors [The Hot Millionaires #2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

“No it bloody can’t! She’s gone too far this time.”

Skye ushered the chef back toward the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, gents. I’ll be right back.”

“The executive chef who makes decent cookies, I assume,” Luke said, watching them depart.

Jay shrugged. “Doesn’t look old enough to shave.”

“What’s going on, Jay?” Luke asked softly. “You’re not really gonna consider this, are you? If you’re not, I think you’re being cruel giving her false hope.”

“You know I’ve always wanted to get my hands on a genuine old place like this.” Jay sniffed the air. “You can almost smell the history.”

“That would be the wonky plumbing.”

Jay choked on a laugh. “You’ve got no romance in your soul. That’s your problem.”

Luke wasn’t buying it. “You might like the building, but you know as well as I do that it will be years before it turns a profit.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But she’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?”

Jay quirked a brow. “That obvious, is it?”

Luke chuckled. “It is to someone who knows you as well as I do, and you’re not happy about it, either. That’s why you were so curt with her. Besides, even if you get on her good side, I don’t think she’ll play with us both, so we might as well hightail it out of here.”

“Really?” Luke could tell that he’d invoked his friend’s competitive spirit. “Care to have a bet on that?”

“Fifty quid.”

Luke grinned as they shook on the deal. If anyone could tame a classy babe like Skye, it was Jay. Luke would happily part with a fifty if it meant they got to indulge in their favourite pastime and have her together.

“This one might need a bit of nurturing.” Jay glanced down at the bulge in Luke’s pants and grinned. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Anticipation’s part of the fun.”

“Sorry.” Skye rejoined them, looking flustered. “A slight crisis in the kitchen, but it’s all sorted now.”

“Looks like you’re needed again.” Jay nodded over her shoulder and rolled his eyes.

They all turned to see a young girl in a waitress’s uniform, hovering just behind them, wringing her hands and looking close to tears.

“He came on to me, Skye,” she wailed. “I’m gonna sue for sexual harassment.”

“Damn! I’m sorry, gents. I will need another minute or two.”

“Is it always this crazy round here?” Luke asked.

“Only when I want to make a good impression,” she said with a wry grin.

“Look,” Jay said. “I think Luke and I ought to stay in the pub for a few days, if you have rooms available. That way we’ll get a better feel for the place and how it’s run.”

Luke knew exactly what—or rather who—Jay wanted to get a better feel for.

Skye blinked, clearly taken by surprise, but she recovered quickly.

“Oh, of course. Rooms two and three at the top of the stairs are our best.” She reached behind the reception desk and produced two keys. “Your stay will be on the house, obviously.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to express our gratitude.”

Jay spoke in a scathing tone that was almost insulting. Luke knew he was deliberately trying to provoke her, just to get a reaction. He’d seen him do it before, and it always led to an interesting exchange of views. Skye merely tossed her head and offered him a circumspect smile that came nowhere near her eyes.

“I don’t want your gratitude, Mr. Blanchard.” She ran her eyes the length of his body, candidly appraising him and not looking particularly impressed by what she saw. That was a first in Luke’s experience. She was playing Jay at his own game, intentionally or otherwise he couldn’t be sure. What he did know was that it was exactly the right way to hold his restless partner’s attention.

“Then what do you want, Ms. Harrison?

“Why, what’s in your wallet, of course.”

Luke barked a laugh but turned it into a cough when Jay glowered at him.

“If you’d care to take your bags up, I’ll just deal with a problem in the kitchen and will be ready for you when you come down again.”

Luke chuckled as they headed to their car to collect their bags.

“Do you think she knows what she just said?” he asked.

“Nope.” Jay hoisted his bag over his shoulder and grimaced. “Ms. Harrison’s no flirt.” He shrugged. “Her problem is that she’s too uptight and doesn’t know how to relax. Don’t ask me how I know, but I get the impression that she’s been without a man in her life for way too long.”

“And we’re gonna rectify that?”

“Count on it, my friend.”

“Very cosy,” Jay said, quirking a brow.

Skye was getting used to his sarcasm and didn’t rise to the bait.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “I like it.”

It was the end of the day, and Skye had conducted her visitors over every inch of The Fox. Both of them, but Jay especially, asked intelligent questions, seeming to try and catch her on the hop.
No change!
She knew the workings of this place inside out, but what she hadn’t realized until she had a captive audience was just how many decisions she was required to make on an hourly basis. The two interruptions from the kitchen staff were the precursor to a dozen more similar incidents. It seemed as though the workings of The Fox would come to a complete standstill if she didn’t step up to the plate. Why hadn’t she realized how heavily they all leaned on her before?

Jay’s frown deepened each time it happened.

“Don’t you have anyone else to sort out all the little niggles for you?” he asked. “Surely your time could be more productively spent elsewhere.”

She wanted to tell him to mind his own business. Problem was, if she had her way, The Fox soon would be his business.

“It’s not always like this,” she said evasively.

“What was wrong in the kitchen earlier?”

Damn, he’d hit on the one thing she absolutely didn’t want him to know about. She wondered whether she ought to lie but quickly dismissed the idea. She wouldn’t put it past him to wander into the kitchen and quiz the staff for himself.

“Our waitress Maisie was a bit upset. She accused Steve, the chef, of making a pass at her.”

“A chopper on the chopping board,” Luke muttered, grinning.

“Something like that.” Skye surprised herself by returning his grin. Luke was kinda fun.

“How did you resolve it?” Jay asked.

“Steve told me there was nothing to it and, frankly, I believed him. There’s another guy in the kitchen, so Steve couldn’t have done anything to Maisie with him there at the same time, could he?” She noticed the two men share a significant glance and wondered what she’d said wrong, other than admitting that her kitchen staff couldn’t behave in a professional manner. “I think Maisie has a bit of a thing for Steve but he’s not interested in her.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The proverbial woman scorned.”

“My advice is not to let it escalate,” Jay said. “Move Maisie somewhere else, and get another waitress.”

Skye rounded on him, tempted—so sorely tempted—to spell out a few facts of life for Mr. Big Shot. She only just managed to quell that desire. “Maisie lives locally and comes cheap. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Okay, point taken.” Jay inhaled sharply. “We haven’t seen the cellars yet.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Since this is a pub, I’d say it was essential.”

“Oh, very well.”

She led them into the main bar and reached down to haul open a trapdoor. Jay beat her to it.

“Allow me.”

“Thanks.” Skye reached for a switch, and the cellar below them was bathed in dull, not especially reassuring light. “Go right on down,” she invited.

“After you.”

Skye hesitated for a fraction too long. She absolutely didn’t want them to know that she was claustrophobic—not on top of all the other inadequacies she’d already displayed—and avoided the cellar like the plague. Then she thought of all that was at stake and made sure the hatch was securely latched back. Satisfied that there was no possibility of it slamming shut and trapping her below, she grimly descended into her worst nightmare.

“You don’t like cellars?” Jay asked as they finally returned to the gloriously cavernous bar. The vice that gripped her chest eased, and she could breathe freely again. “Strange phobia for a landlady.”

“What’s not to like?” she returned flippantly, leading them to the only place they’d yet to inspect, which was her apartment.

They stood in it now, and she watched the two men poking their noses into her personal space, trying to take it as a good sign. Problem was, she still hadn’t been able to get them to say what they really thought of her scheme to save The Fox. If it was as hopelessly impractical as she sometimes thought, she wished they’d just say so and put her out of her agony. Why her own flat needed to be included in the tour she was unable to say, but it had to be a good sign, didn’t it? She stood back, grateful that she was at least tidy, which was the best thing that could be said for the place. She saw it through their eyes as they took in the shabbiness she was so accustomed to that she no longer even noticed it.

Skye had made it as cosy as she could with overstuffed cushions, colourful throws disguising the threadbare furniture, a couple of watercolours on the walls, and shelves dotted with some of her grandmother’s precious china. The men ducked their heads below the sloping ceilings, obviously at a loss for words but too polite to ask her how she could live in such squalor. Good job they didn’t know the central heating didn’t stretch to her flat and that the place was frigid in winter. As she was only there to fall into bed, it had never mattered much to her. A fierce sense of pride assailed her. She tilted her chin, refusing to apologise for the state of her accommodation. They could think what the hell they liked about her.

“Yes well, if there’s nothing else, I probably need to get down to the bar.”

“Skye,” Jay said in a more moderate tone than he’d yet employed with her, “you’ve been running round all day with us and dealing with just about every problem that occurs in this place. Don’t you have someone to help you?”

She placed a hand on one hip and shot him a disdainful look. “And I’d pay them how exactly?”

“You can’t be all things to all people. It’s a common mistake that owners of failing businesses make, trying to save money by doing everything themselves. If you had more time to concentrate on what you should be doing, you might have turned The Fox round before now without my help.”

Her heart pounded. Did that mean he was going to help her? She bit back her stinging retort and smiled at him. It was no hardship. He might be a pain in the butt know-it-all but was very easy on the eye. Other parts of her body reacted to him as well when he looked at her like she was the only person on this earth. A fine tremor lanced through her as she stared right back at her, conscious of her nipples hardening and her pussy leaking.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I really do need to look at the best way to manage my time.”

“We could help you with that,” Luke said in a throaty drawl that made her think they weren’t referring to the same thing.

“Okay, lecture over and we’ll get out your hair,” Jay said.

The man was a complete enigma, and Skye was already tired of trying to second-guess him. He’d been curt and offhand with her all day, dismissive of what little progress she had managed to make at The Fox in the face of her crippling debt crisis. Now his attitude had done a one-eighty and he seemed to be launching a charm offensive. Like she’d fall for something so obvious.

Like she had any choice.

She needed his help so, whatever it took.

“I’ve asked the restaurant to save you a table for seven o’clock, if that’s okay.”

“Will you dine with us?” Luke asked.

“Sorry, there’s a darts match tonight, and I’m needed in the bar before that.”

“You play darts?” both men asked together.

“For our ladies team.” She grinned. “We’re not very good, but I play to make up the numbers. It generates a decent payday in the bar.”

“Still being all things to all people,” Jay asked in a soft, goading tone, his dark eyes zeroing in on her face. He lifted a hand, and she thought he was going to touch her. Instead he snagged a wayward strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“Later,” he said.

As soon as they left, Skye glanced at her watch and groaned. She was running sooo late—again. She threw off her clothes, pulled on an old pair of jeans and even older boots, and dashed out again. Poor Rio was still out in the field. She needed to muck out and bring her in before she could even think about the evening to come. Patrick, the owner of the yard, usually did it for her, but he was away at the sales today and his two girls he employed had more than enough to do looking after the other horses.

She trotted down the back path, her head full of the day’s happenings. She hardly dared believe that Jay Blanchard would go along with her, but where there was life there was hope. He’d see a full bar tonight. All the local men turned out to watch the women play darts, and the atmosphere was always convivial. Perhaps that would appeal to the Americans. Whatever it was they hoped to get out of involvement with an English pub, The Fox would offer it to them on a plate tonight or she’d die trying.