Bossing the Billionaire: Billionaire Brothers Kent - Ryder's Story (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series) (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

“Yes,” she whispered as he slid his lips down the column of her
slender neck. “Ooh, that feels so good.”

“Mmm.” It was a moan that came from deep within him. He wanted her
so bad and although he held her in his arms he wanted more – to consume her,
devour her, possess her wholly and fully.

Ryder lowered his lips to the curve of her collarbone, feeling
himself grow hard as he felt the heat of her-

Bang, bang, bang. “Rise and shine. Time to get up and get going.”

“Huh? What?” The banging still pounding in his ears, Ryder jerked awake,
dragging himself from under the shadowy blanket of his dream. He sat up in the
bed and looked around, momentarily thrown by the unfamiliar scene around him.

And then he remembered. He was in the strange little town called
Pequoia, in one of the guest bedrooms at Beaumont’s. In Blake Beaumont’s bed.
Well, not literally, as much as he would have loved a dream like that to be
true. It was the dream he’d just been having, a dream that had been all about
her.

“Are you up?” There was another bang at the door and Blake’s voice
came through to him, loud and clear.

Ryder cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m up,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Just after six o’clock,” she said. “Time to get moving.”

“Six o’clock? In the morning?”

“No, in the evening. What kind of dumb question is that? Of course, six
o’clock in the morning. And we’d better get a move on it before the herd
descends.”

With each of Blake’s words Ryder became more confused. He threw back
the covers and got out of the four-poster bed then padded barefoot across the
cold wooden floor. When he pulled the door open it was to see Blake standing
there, fully dressed, looking so fresh and ready for the day it made him wonder
if she’d even gone to bed at all.

“Are we going somewhere?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Down to the kitchen. This place will
be full of men coming through for breakfast. We’ve got to have it ready by
seven o’clock.” Then she gave him an impish smile. “Or should I say, you’ve got
to have it ready? You’re the one on breakfast duty.”

"Breakfast… You mean I’m going to have to fix this breakfast
you’re talking about?” Ryder stared at her, incredulous.

“Yes, sir. You promised to work off your bill for the night’s
accommodation, remember? Well, this is how you’re gonna do it. You’re chef for
the day.

Ryder shook his head. “But I don’t know anything about cooking
breakfast for a crowd. I’ve only ever done eggs, toast and cereal.”

His declaration seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She
didn’t look sympathetic at all. “Well, you’d better learn fast. If these guys
don’t like your cooking you’ll hear it from them. You can trust me on that.”
Then she turned to go. “Go on and clean up. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

Ryder was opening his mouth to protest but it was no use. She was
already disappearing down the hallway, leaving him staring after her. He could
only shake his head in disbelief. What in the world had he gotten himself into?

He didn’t have much time to ponder on his dilemma, though. From the
little he already knew of Blake he could guess she would be back upstairs in
exactly fifteen minutes, pounding on the door again.

How did that saying go? As you make your bed so you must lie in it.
Well, he’d gone and made his bed when he’d agreed to work for his keep and he
could see it was going to be a tough bed, indeed. The easy thing to do would be
to back out but he’d always prided himself on his principles. He would stay and
fulfill his commitment, however arduous that might be. He gritted his teeth. He
was not looking forward to it.

With that discouraging thought Ryder turned and went back into the
bedroom, an ancient-looking place furnished with a canopied four-poster bed, a
chest of drawers that looked like an antique and a low oak chest that sat at
the foot of the bed. Outside of that, there were two nightstands on either side
of the bed and a once colorful rug that was frayed around the edges. It looked
almost as old as the town itself.

Quickly, he strode toward the chest and pulled out the supplies
Blake had told him would be there and then he went back outside and down the
hallway to the ‘guest’ bathroom. That was a generous way of putting it but it
made him feel better to think of it in those terms. The plumbing was so ancient
he was surprised it actually worked. Pulling on a chain attached to an elevated
tank when you had to flush? Ice-cold water flowing through the tap? If he hadn’t
been experiencing it first-hand he wouldn’t have believed it. In a developing
country, maybe, but the good old U.S. of A.? Sheesh.

Blake had given him fifteen minutes but Ryder was ready in twelve
and then, dressed in fresh shirt and trousers but with his denim jacket to
shield him from the chilly morning air he descended, not looking forward to the
task that lay ahead but not able to do a thing except face his new reality.

“Finally,” Blake said as he stepped inside the kitchen. “I was just
getting ready to douse you with a bucket of water.”

“You said fifteen minutes,” Ryder said in his defense. “It’s not
even that time yet.”

“You’re sure?” Blake looked at him askance. “I thought I said ten.”
Then she stepped behind him and before he knew what was happening she’d tied a
frilly white apron around his waist. “Anyway, you’re here now so let’s get you
started.” She stepped back. “We usually have about fifteen to twenty men
passing through between seven and eight o’clock. This is my busiest time of
day.”

“Fifteen to twenty men? You have that many people in this town?”

Blake laughed. “Don’t you underestimate our Pequoia,” she said. “And
anyway, some of them aren’t from here. They come in to help work the farms. We
haven’t got that many young men who can help out as field hands so we import
them from neighboring towns.” She shrugged. “They’re here working in the
daytime but by nightfall they’re gone.”

“And who could blame them?” Ryder said the words under his breath,
so softly only he could hear.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Blake regarded him with narrowed gaze but said nothing. Then she
jerked her chin toward the stove. “Okay, let’s get moving.”

The stove was an ancient-looking contraption, a gas-powered device
with monstrously large burners. A massive frying pan was on the front burner
and to the back of it sat a deep pot, one you could bathe a small child in.

“That’s for the grits,” Blake said. “You’ll do that with bacon and
eggs today. Since you’re new I’ll handle the pancakes.”

“Grits…” He looked around, feeling lost. He’d had grits before but
had he ever made the thing? He didn’t even know where to start. “Uhm, what…do I
do first?”

Blake gave him a look of impatience. “First you wash your hands and
then you come here so I can show you.” When he didn’t jump at her command she
gave him a slight shove toward the sink. “Move it. We haven’t got all day.”

Ryder could have given her a ready answer to that one but he let it
slide. Biting his tongue, he did as he was told and was soon by her side. It
wasn’t easy, filling this role of badgered employee. He had to chuckle to
himself. This was a far cry from being the owner of a billion-dollar enterprise.
Talk about a humbling experience.

“Something funny?” Blake was looking at him like his soft chuckle
annoyed her.

His smile widened but he shook his head. “No, just remembering
something.”

“Okay, then.” She turned and picked up a huge bag of grits. “Let’s
get started.”

Within minutes Blake had him stirring the stuff in the massive pot
of boiling water.

“Don’t let it clump up,” she called out to him, her voice muffled as
she stuck her head inside the cavernous refrigerator. When she backed out and
straightened up she was holding a double-decker tray of eggs. “You do the eggs
while I do the pancakes.”

“But I’m stirring grits. I’ve only got so many hands.” Ryder didn’t
stop stirring.

“Well, let them work for you, darn it. Hurry up with the grits so
you can scramble some eggs. The guys will be bursting through the door before
you know it.” She deposited the eggs on the counter beside him and pointed to
the big black frying pan. “Scramble them with milk so they’ll be nice and
fluffy. And don’t you dare burn them.” The last words were spoken with her
index finger pointed accusingly at his face.

And he hadn’t even done anything. Not yet, anyway.

One hand still stirring the pot of grits, Ryder reached over and
turned on the front burner then grabbed the nearby stick of butter and dropped
a generous chunk into the pan.

“Not too much, now.” Blake didn’t stop as she filled her pan with
pancake mix. “And you’ve got to beat the milk into the eggs first.”

Ryder looked from grits to frying pan and back again. Something
would have to give. It was his judgment call to make and he made it quickly,
pulling the wooden spoon out of the pot of grits and dropping it onto an empty
plate then grabbing the bowl Blake had left on the counter. The grits would
have to fend for itself for a while. A butter-filled frying pan sitting on a
hot burner was not something you kept waiting.

Quickly, he cracked a dozen of the eggs on the side of the bowl then
beat furiously as he hurried to the fridge to grab some milk. Before he even
got back to the counter he was pouring and whisking, beating the mixture into a
frothy lather. With the butter melted and nice and hot he began to pour the
mixture onto the sizzling surface then he stood back and watched with
satisfaction as it coagulated before his eyes.

And that was when he smelled it. Burning grits. He’d forgotten he
was supposed to be stirring, too. Darn. He’d never been good at multitasking.
His eyes never leaving the eggs, he grabbed the wooden spoon and got to
stirring.

Blake grimaced at him, eyes narrowed, but she never said a word.

Glad that his new ‘boss’ hadn’t chewed him out Ryder turned one
hundred percent of his attention to the task at hand, alternating between grits
and eggs then scooping piles of the fluffy yellow mixture into a bowl. Soon he
was cracking another dozen eggs and starting the whipping process all over
again. Through it all he kept stirring, grabbing his wooden spoon every other
minute. From that point on he never forgot his grits again.

He was so caught up in his work that he gave a start of surprise
when he turned to find Blake standing right beside him. In her eyes was a look
of grudging admiration.

“Not bad,” she said with a slow nod as she stared at his mountain of
soft gold.

Ryder gave her a quick grin, something akin to a smirk. “Where are
your troops?” he asked. “Bring them on.”

“They’ll be here soon,” she said, turning to pour pancake mix on the
griddle. “Don’t you worry about that.”

She was right. She must have left the front door open because at
exactly seven o’clock he heard the tinkle of the bells indicating that someone
had just stepped into the restaurant, and it wasn’t just one tinkle, either.
After the first there was a second then a third and a fourth in quick
succession and soon the place was abuzz with the sound of men greeting one
another in the early morning breakfast hour.

Between Blake and Ryder they now had three stacks of pancakes, a
huge bowl of fluffy yellow eggs and a pot full of steaming grits. Blake had
taken charge of the bacon and that was ready, too, along with the coffee and
tea that Ryder had prepared.

“We make a great team,” Blake told him as she gazed at their handiwork.
“This is the first morning I’m actually ready for these guys.”

At her words a frisson of pride ran through him like he’d just won
some kind of award. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “This is a lot of
work for a woman alone.”

Blake shrugged. “You do what you’ve got to do.” Like those words
were a signal for her to do just that she turned and walked toward the swinging
doors leading into the restaurant, leaving Ryder staring after her.

He was smiling as he shook his head. He’d passed Blake’s first test
– or was this the second – and he had no doubt she had other surprises up her
sleeve.

But as far as he was concerned, if she had more tests to throw his
way, she could just bring them on. 

***

It had been an exhausting morning with Ryder piling huge ladles of
grits onto plates, with scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. The pancakes went
pretty fast and Blake soon found herself back in the kitchen making another
stack, then another. Before the morning was over she’d made nine stacks in all.
Something weird must have happened that morning because the crowd that
descended on Beaumont’s was like none she’d ever seen before. She saw faces she
hadn’t seen in ages. Some of them, she’d never even seen before. Had they all
heard she had a new helper and had come out of sheer curiosity? Whatever it
was, she was glad for the business. And as for the crowd, she didn’t know what
she would have done if she hadn’t had Ryder hustling right by her side.