Page 34 of Cooped Up for Christmas

“I’m here to work. Not make friends.”

“You’re here to work—” he flourished his hands— “amongst people. Why not enjoy your time with them?”

I kind of stared at him for a while. So he continued. “Did you know Olivia sings opera? And Wren can rap…in sign language?”

Impressive, but… “We don’t have time to sit around and chat here.”

“Seriously?” Now he gaped at me. “Do you even remember when we were here? We would sit around and talk for hours when the guests were out.” He winked. “Or sleeping.”

“I remember that.”

“What else do you remember from when we were here? How super clean we washed the dishes? Or the picnic we all took on a river float—”

“And Santino fell in,” I said on a snicker.

“Right. And then we fell in saving him.” We both laughed at the memory. What a fun day it had been. “That’s what we remember. That’s what we take with us. The way we felt. About those people… Our friends. That’s what matters.”

“Well, these people are not my friends. They’re employees.”

“You and Molly were friends, back when we were here.” Damn. The man was relentless.

“That’s different.”

“I don’t see how. You were Olivia. Molly was you.”

There’s nothing I hate more than a man who makes a valid point. So annoying. I gusted a sigh and attacked my food in lieu of a response.

“I heard the girls talking about you,” he said after a minute, apropos of absolutely nothing.

I looked up at him over my rib. “Really?” Awesome. “What did they say?”

“They think you’re a little uptight.”

With great resolve, I did not snort again. But I thought the snort. “Of course I’m uptight. I’m an executive.”

“Hmm.”

I glared at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s just that you didn’t used to be uptight. In fact, if memory serves, you were…very flexible.” The glint in his eye was irritating. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

I gaped at him. “Leaving what?”

“All this?”

I had to laugh, though it kind of got caught in my throat. “My job?” Was he crazy? “This is all I have. All I am.”

“Yeah. I get that. But is that the way you want it?”

I frowned at him. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Are you happy?”

“Happy?” What kind of question was that? “Are you happy jumping off mountains for a living?”

“I jump onto them. From planes. Very different thing. And you’re avoiding the question.” I had no idea why he was so bloody persistent.

“I’m the VP of Hospitality for the most popular mega luxury resort company in the world. It’s a great job.”