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Kane nodded his thanks. “Thank you. Are you normally here this early?”
His tone had become conversational now but Ruth knew it wasn’t an idle question. Her shoulders stiffened.
“My shift doesn’t start until later but when you get to my age, sleep doesn’t always come easily. I find the worst thing to do is to lie there getting anxious about how much rest you aren’t getting. On those occasions when I know it’s fruitless to try, I come in and get things started. I like to keep myself busy.”
He sat by the marble island and watched as Ruth went to work preparing for the day ahead.
“You’ve worked for the Rockefellers a long time?” Although he already knew the answer, it was still interesting to hear people’s responses: nuance wasn’t something that came across in a file.
“Oh, yes. Since my boy was little. We moved from North Carolina when he was only seven. My husband — he was killed in an accident at work when some scaffolding fell down on him.” Her voice quivered and she stopped to take a breath.
“I’m sorry,” Kane replied. There wasn’t much else he could say to soften the terrible blow life had dealt, nothing that wouldn’t sound like an empty platitude. “What made you decide to come here?”
This he didn’t already know. Most people moved to LA with a dream of working in the film industry, though this seemed highly unlikely of Ruth, given what he’d just learned of her.
“Emilio — my husband — his family are here. Initially, they put us up in their home so I could find my feet, but as time went by, I guess they felt they had done enough in his memory. When the job came up for the Rockefellers, I took it because it offered a self-contained cottage on the grounds. We lived there until Hank — my son — was older and then we moved out as they wanted to renovate the cottage, change it into a guest house for visitors. Of course, they’ve never used it — the Rockefellers don’t usually entertain at home. This party they are throwing is very out the norm for them.”
The coffee maker, a futuristic chrome monstrosity hummed, ready for use. Ruth spooned a cup of ground coffee beans into the machine, hit a metal lever and slotted an espresso cup beneath the spout. Hot water passed into the beans, filling the air with the rich aroma of fresh coffee, making Kane’s mouth water. Next to good food, great coffee was his other vice.
“Will the party be a nightmare for you?” She seemed to have her hands full just keeping things running around here; he couldn’t imagine having to staff a large event on top.
Ruth looked startled, handing him the espresso on a saucer. “Goodness, I won’t be doing much for it other than to take in the deliveries. Lexi has hired a catering company to take care of all that. I wouldn’t know where to begin a job that big, and thankfully, she has not asked me to. She’s a very good girl, you know. Never seems to have many friends though. Maybe you can be her friend?”
The older woman winked suddenly, apparently having decided to not take offence by his questions. Ridiculously, Kane could feel himself getting hot.
“Mind if I take this with me?” He gestured at the coffee, eager to get away. She turned to focus on peeling mushrooms for the breakfast she’d be serving later.
“Of course. You can leave the cup in your office. One of the staff will collect it when they do their rounds.”
He left, Bud carrying that bone between his teeth as if it were the most precious thing in the world. When he took a sip of his espresso, his mouth rejoiced.
It was quite possibly the best coffee he’d ever tasted.
He knew immediately that he’d be paying many more visits to Ruth and that kitchen, even if it meant having to sidestep her personal questions.
16
The florist couldn’t stop staring at Kane, something Lexi was only too aware of.
The woman was in her late forties and reeked of desperation if the too-tight, revealing jumpsuit that she was wearing was anything to go by. Strong perfume poured off of her, stinging the back of her throat, making it itch.
Why did people feel the need to douse themselves in toxic chemicals, particularly when scent was such a personal thing? What appealed to one person might — and often was — off-putting to another.
Then there were the asthma sufferers and those with chemical sensitivities where inhaling any kind of fragrance could be the difference between life or death.
Lexi coughed and waved her hand under her nose pointedly. But Elise — the florist who owned the store — didn’t seem to take the hint. Tapping a long red talon against pouty lips that had obviously been enhanced, she cast an eye over the list Lexi presented. “Yes, that should be fine. I’ll have this delivered to your home on Thursday as planned.”
With the party only two days away now, Lexi was feeling the heat. Everything had to work out as planned. She wasn’t going to be the reason that funds weren’t coming in.
By the wreaths, Bud sat by Kane’s side, nose twitching a mile a minute as he took in the floral-scented room. Kane’s attention was on the call that had just come through. Lexi snuck a sideways look at him.
He wore his usual outfit of cargo pants and a simple, light-colored shirt that barely fit his biceps. While his men all wore dark suits to work, the same rule didn’t seem to apply to him. He was always neatly turned out, but he held a clear disdain for the constricting suits.
She couldn’t discern the gist of his conversation, but whatever it was, it wasn’t putting him into a good mood. The longer he spoke to the person, the more clipped his responses became. His body was as rigid and unyielding as a steel bar.
All morning, he had seemed tense, though she wasn’t sure if it was their kiss or something else that was the cause of the tight line of his shoulders. He hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t referred to anything remotely personal with her. In fact, he was giving her such a wide berth that they could have been on opposite sides of the Atlantic.
It was driving her insane.
