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Her eyebrows knit together, and for a moment he wondered if she understood that he meant her and not the valley. If she did, she didn’t admit it. She nodded. “It sure is beautiful here. Not many people get to work with this kind of view.”
“They don’t.” Grant pulled himself together. He needed to stop watching the way her mouth moved as she spoke. He needed to get a grip and get started on what he was here to do.
She smiled. “Okay. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“Can we just get past this awkward beginning, forget that we already met, and go about this as if we’re strangers, meeting for the first time right now? You know your brief, and I know what you’re here to do, but other than that, we have no knowledge of each other whatsoever.”
He couldn’t help it; he let his gaze slide down over her body. He did have knowledge of what was hiding under her shirt, under her jeans, and he didn’t want to forget it. But he had to. He looked back up and met her gaze with a smile. “Yeah. That’s a great idea.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m Grant Dawson. It’s great to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”
When she placed her hand in his, an electric current zapped through him. He’d swear she felt it too. Her eyes widened, and a touch of pink appeared on her cheeks. She covered it well, smiling and pumping his hand up and down before she let go. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Dawson. I’m Chelsea Hamilton, and I’m hoping that we can do good things together.” The pink on her cheeks turned red at the way that had come out.
Grant would love to do all kinds of good things with her, and he wanted to run with the way she’d worded it, but instead, he saved her. “We will. We’re going to do great things with this little winery of yours. I know it. And please, call me Grant?”
She smiled. “Okay, Grant. What do you say we get started? Every day around here starts with coffee and a team meeting. The troops will all be there by now, so, follow me.”
He followed her up the steps, unable to stop himself from watching her rounded little ass as they went. It wasn’t a big building. It felt more like a rustic, Italian farmhouse than an office building. It was warm and welcoming. Grant loved it. She led him through to a big comfortable room in the back. It looked to Grant like some kind of break room, with comfortable sofas, a fridge, microwave, and vending machine. There were maybe twenty people sitting around chatting and drinking coffee. They looked up when he came in, and the chatter stopped. It felt to Grant like all the warmth drained from the room and the atmosphere turned distinctly frosty. He was used to that. He didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms. Whenever he came into a business, people were afraid; at best, they were afraid of change, and at worst, they were afraid of losing their jobs. He didn’t take it personally; he understood. The wave of sadness that swept through him took him by surprise. He didn’t want to be rejected by these people. He wanted to belong here. He wanted to help them. He … what the hell was he thinking? He wanted to do his job, that was all. Resistance from the employees would make it a little more difficult—it always did—but it wouldn’t stop him; it didn’t make any difference.
He smiled warmly at them all, meeting the gaze of anyone who didn’t turn away.
“Morning everyone.” Chelsea smiled brightly at them. “I know most of you have an idea what’s going on, but I’m going to spell it out so that everyone knows. There’s no need for rumors or mixed up stories. We’re all in this together, and I want you all to be in the loop about Grant and what he’s here for.”
She turned to Grant and smiled, but instead of introducing him as he’d expected, she turned back to address her employees again—this time in Spanish. Grant was surprised how fluently she spoke. He didn’t know enough to follow every word, but he gathered that she was just repeating everything she’d said. He looked around the room. Over half of them looked as though they understood much more now. He knew a large percentage of the workforce in wine country was made up of immigrants. He also knew that the language barrier was usually a problem. It seemed it was a problem Chelsea had overcome. Her audience eyed him warily as she spoke, and he wished he’d put more effort into learning the language himself. She said something that made them all laugh and look at him. He shrugged and held his hands out. It seemed it was good-natured laughter, at least.
After she’d spoken for a while in Spanish, she turned and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll repeat all of that in English now.”
“Maybe not all of it,” called a Hispanic woman, making those who understood laugh.
Grant smiled. “I can take it. I’m used to being called the devil when I first come into a place. It’s usually behind my back. At least you guys are doing it in front of me, even if I don’t understand the words.”
Chelsea shook her head at him. “Actually, I was being very complimentary about you. I was just telling everyone that you are here to help. That you’re not here to fire people; you’re here to make life better for all us by helping us improve the way we do things.”
He nodded, pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t painting him as the devil incarnate.
She turned back to her team. “You all know that my father would like things to change around here and that I’ve fought him every step of the way.”
Grant cocked his head to one side, interested that she was so open with them.
“He brought Mr. Dawson in to assess what we’re doing and how we’re doing it—and to figure out how we can be more efficient.”
“How many of us is he going to fire?” asked a sullen-looking guy sitting by the microwave.
“None,” said Chelsea brightly. “He’s not going to be firing anyone or making any changes.”
“So, why’s he here?” asked a young guy who looked like he was on a break from college, maybe an intern?
“He’s going to assess what we’re doing, but he’s not going to make any changes. He’s simply going to make recommendations about what changes we could make. When he’s done, I’m going to sit down with Father and go through the reports. If I don’t like the changes, then I won’t okay them.”
“And if you don’t?” asked the sullen guy. “Won’t Mr. Hamilton just kick you out and make them anyway?”
Chelsea smiled. “No. He won’t. If we can’t reach a compromise we can live with, then I’ll be looking to buy him out.”
That news was met with big smiles and much chatter, plus some puzzled looks from the Spanish speakers. Chelsea explained herself in Spanish, and they, too, looked happy at the news.
“So, that’s the big news. Mr. Dawson will be with me today, and we’ll work a roster for him to visit with all of you.” She shot Grant an evil grin before adding. “I’ll try to make sure I send him to each of you on your toughest days, so he can get a real picture of how hard we work here.”
“Be sure to send him to me on Friday then,” said an older guy who was leaning in the doorway. “That’s crapper cleaning day.”
