Snow Job by Tara Wyatt (best large ereader .txt) 📗

restrictions spreadsheet she’d put together. She’d made extra sure to relay all dietary needs to the resort’s event coordinator, who had assured her they could accommodate everyone. “Yes?”

“Then why was I just served a Cobb salad with freaking egg all over it?” His voice had turned into something closing in on a snarl.

She squared her shoulders and met his eyes, her patience dangerously close to snapping. “I’m very sorry your salad was wrong, Davis. I’ll make sure you get a new one. In the meantime, I’d advise you to check your tone considering I am your boss.” She narrowed her eyes, refusing to blink or look away first. He flinched just the tiniest bit.

“I could’ve had a reaction,” he said, walking back to his table, shaking his head, as though she were the one who’d personally put egg on his salad. Not that she wasn’t tempted now after the way he’d just spoken to her. Her stomach growled and she wanted to get back to her own food, but first she’d check in with the resort’s event coordinator just to make sure everything was fine.

“Kayla! Kayla, there you are!” A woman approached her quickly. “I know you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to let you know that the waiter just told me there were no vegetarian options tonight? And, um, like, I haven’t eaten meat in over a decade, so…”

Kayla’s frown morphed into a full-on grimace. Fucking Sebastian. This had his fingerprints all over it. She took a breath and smoothed her features into a professional smile.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to someone right now and take care of that.”

But before she’d made it even three steps, she felt a set of thick fingers close around her upper arm. She whirled and came face to face with Stammler, his face red.

“Come with me. Now.” He started to pull her—actually pull her, like a parent leading a misbehaving child—and she jerked her arm free, glaring at him.

“I’m happy to talk with you, but don’t ever touch me again.”

At that, his face went even redder, but he kept his hands to himself, thankfully. Then he jerked his head toward the door that led out into the hallway, indicating for her to follow him. Anger and embarrassment swirling through her, she did, her cheeks on fire. Around her, people stared and murmured.

Oh, look. Another Kayla fuck up.

Given that she hated making mistakes—which was why she deliberately set out to never, ever make them—the idea that everyone thought all of these screw-ups were hers was infuriating. But what was she going to do? Tell them that these were pranks Sebastian was pulling? No one would believe her. Or worse, Stammler would just blame her for not keeping him away from the retreat.

The door to the dining room fell closed behind her and Stammler turned to face her.

“Explain. Now.”

She forced herself to keep her chin up, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what went wrong. I’m very sorry that people were given the wrong food, but I can assure you that I provided the resort with a comprehensive list of dietary restrictions and was assured they could accommodate everyone’s needs. I’ll follow up to find out what happened.”

Stammler jammed his hands on his hips and blew out a noisy breath. “You know, when I promoted you into this position, I thought I was making the right decision. Prescott was such a fucking disaster that I thought things couldn’t be worse. But maybe it was better to have him AWOL than have someone with so much on her plate that she can’t keep everything straight.”

“No! That’s not what’s happening.”

“It’s not like you to make mistakes like this. I have to think it’s because you’ve simply taken on too much. You clearly can’t handle it, given how things have gone this week. I was willing to overlook the technical glitches with the itinerary and this morning’s presentation. But this…” He shook his head. “People have food allergies. Someone could’ve been hurt.”

She swallowed, her throat dry, her pulse beating like a hummingbird in her chest. “I know. I don’t know what happened, but I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll look after it.” He shook his head and she had to fight back the urge to curl her arms around her middle, wanting to shelter herself from the withering contempt in his glare. “You know, I’m starting to think promoting you was a mistake. You weren’t ready, and now look at what’s happening. I’m having to do your job for you.”

“No, Mr. Stammler, with all due respect, it wasn’t a mistake. I can handle this job.”

“Can you? I think we’ll have to talk about that when we get back to the office.” And with that, he turned and left, leaving her alone in the empty hallway.

Her eyes started to burn as humiliation crested over her, and she stumbled blindly through the hallway, looking for a ladies’ room or a quiet corner in which to hide and lick her wounds. She came to a small alcove with a long, low bench, flanked by two softly glowing lamps and tall plants. Perfect. No one would look for her here. Not that anyone was looking for her anyway. Not unless they’d found another mistake to yell at her for.

She opened her bag and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes, and as she did, some of her humiliation started to fade, replaced with white hot anger. The pranks were one thing, but this? This was too far. This was way over the line, even for an asshole like him. Heat flashed through her, his name beating through her brain like a drum. Sebastian. Sebastian. Fucking Sebastian.

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and she pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to stifle her sob. Her chest ached and her legs felt weak, her blood pounding in her ears. She’d never forgive him for this. She’d done nothing to him, despite what he seemed to think, and