“I’m sure he sent in a crew to make it look like this before Jordan arrived,” Jesse told her, walking over to the stove, lifting the lid off a pot, and breathing in the steam from it.
“He?” Amber asked.
Cook and Jesse looked at her pointedly. “He,” Cook stressed. “Mr. Pierre Anton, our boss. Your boss, too. He told us you would be arriving tomorrow, though—assuming you are the young master’s social organizer, Miss Stone?”
Amber nodded. “He just hired me but I asked if I could come out a day early to get settled in.” She figured it might be worth trying to get any information out of these two concerning the mysterious Pierre Anton. She’d never been offered a job in quite the way he did, or with a job description like this one. And she’d been working since she was fourteen.
“You asked him?” Jesse asked, rubbing his gray hair as if trying to comprehend what she just said.
Cook’s look was stern, as if Jesse’s question was somehow rude. Her expression softened when she focused on Amber. “If you’ve come to discuss the menu, we can do that after dinner.”
“The menu?” Amber frowned.
“The menu,” Cook repeated. “You know, all the meals that will be served to you, the young master, and the princess.”
“Oh, of course. Well, I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine. Whatever you’re making now smells delicious.”
“You are the social organizer, aren’t you?” Cook looked at Amber like she’d grown a second nose. “Are you always so indifferent about the food served at your events?”
“Of course. Show it to me after supper. I’ll approve it.” Amber stared at her coffee cup, trying to think of something effective to say to cover her blunder. She’d been insane to think she could pull off being a social organizer. The servants in this castle knew more about her job description than she did. “I wanted to take time to get familiar with everything before our guests show up. But if you want me to go ahead and start my duties today, that’s fine.”
“That’s what I came in here to tell you.” Jesse suddenly sounded excited. “He’s here already.”
“Who is here?” Amber asked, more than willing to direct the conversation away from her.
“Jordan Anton, Pierre’s grandson. I just saw him out in the stable with the horses.”
“Oh really?” Amber jumped up, her stomach immediately twisting with nerves. The entire reason she’d been sent to this island was to provide the entertainment for Jordan Anton and his fiancée. Not that she had a clue how to do that, but she had successfully bluffed her way through the interview with Pierre Anton. And she would bluff her way through introducing herself to the millionaire’s grandson. If she’d pulled the wool over the senior’s eyes, junior wouldn’t be much harder to convince. “So much for a day to prepare,” she said, downing her coffee and walking her cup to the sink. “Where are the stables, Jesse?”
Amber ignored the comments from Cook about her attire not being appropriate. Jordan Anton would understand she didn’t start working for him officially until tomorrow. She would keep the introductions simple, she decided, heading down the stone path Jesse had indicated led to the large, stone building behind the castle. It didn’t look like any barn she’d ever seen before.
Amber didn’t get why Cook thought she should put on a dress to enter this place. It had been all she could do to find nice summer clothes to buy during the dead of winter. She’d been excited to use her clothing allowance although every one looked at her like she was crazy when she wanted halter tops and shorts when it was snowing outside.
She pressed her hand on the large wooden door that was already open and breathed in the pungent smell of horses and manure. Everything smelled so different here than it did in Brooklyn, New York. But then, Amber wasn’t sure she’d ever inhaled air that wasn’t laced with factory smoke and carbon monoxide.
“Hello?” she called out, edging into the barn and looking warily into the nearest stall at the giant beast that glanced her way, looking bored. “Do you know where Jordan is?” she whispered to the horse.
Amber had never seen a horse in real life, and this creature was a lot bigger than she thought horses were supposed to be.
“Hello,” a man said, walking around the horse, who continued staring at her with incredibly large brown eyes. “Beautiful creature, don’t you think?”
Amber licked her lips, which were suddenly too dry as she took in the man she’d met while exploring the island. For a moment she wasn’t sure of the meaning of his words. He stroked the side of the horse, his hands large, with long fingers and nails cut short. She imagined his touch would be rough, yet calming and confident. There was something about this guy, with his black hair pulled back in a ponytail and his relaxed, roguish stance, that screamed trouble in the worst of all possible ways. Yet he was compelling. Granted, annoying, too. But there was enough of a challenge in his eyes that she prayed he would spar a bit better this time without running away.
“I don’t know a lot about horses,” she admitted.
“I’m sure you know when something is beautiful.” There was a drawl in his tone that was too soothing to be fake. Yet she couldn’t grasp why someone who sounded like they were from the Wild Wild West would be across the world on this island.
“What one person might view as appealing another might find terrifying,” she countered.
“True,” he said, turning his attention to the horse. “Bess here isn’t terrifying. She and I are becoming quick friends.”
Amber almost asked why they were only now becoming friends, but decided she’d be smarter to focus on her job and not provoke a conversation with this man. He had trouble written all over him.
“Are you the only one out here?” she asked.
“Not anymore,” he said, leaving the horse and approaching her.
Amber instinctively took a step backward. He took her arm, though, appearing indifferent to her balking, and guided her past the horse and deeper into the smelly barn.
“Now, tell me you don’t find him gorgeous,” he said, stopping in front of the last stall.
It was dark this far back in the barn, the only light streaming in through the two large doors opened at the other end. Amber jumped when the black creature in the stall lifted his head, meeting her gaze with a defiant look that gave her chills.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, unable to stop herself as she stared at the large, sleek-looking, inky black horse.
“Put your hand here.” The man reached over her shoulder, pressing his hand against the side of the horse. “Then calm, gentle strokes.”
Amber was overly aware of the man touching her backside, his hard body like a steel wall pressing against her shoulder and her hip. She shifted her attention from the horse to his arm, noticing dark hairs on his forearm that she bet would tickle her flesh if he pulled her into his arms.
“Like this,” he said, his soft baritone next to her ear when he took her hand in his and placed it on the horse. He kept his hand over hers, stroking the horse with her hand. “That’s how you make friends.”
She wondered if he meant with the horse or with her. “What’s his name?” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, telling herself she should pull her hand from underneath his, but her body ignored the instructions. She wasn’t about to show any interest by asking his name again.
“I don’t know but can find out. Would you like to ride him?”
“I’ve never been on a horse,” she admitted easily enough. She wasn’t sure the thought appealed to her.
“We