“Nicole,” I call, opening the door. Nicole is my assistant and has been filling in for me and helping Jackson run the B&B for the past month.
“Yes, sir?” she asks, peeking her head inside the office.
“Where’s my duty book?” I look at her.
“Not sure.”
Considering I’m exhausted, and things aren’t where they’re supposed to be, I try my best not to be rude or moody toward her because I know it’s not her fault. “Okay, thanks.”
She takes it as her cue to leave and walks away. I overhear her talking to a guest about changing the sheets in one of the rooms, and when she goes upstairs, I find my book stuffed under a stack of rodeo magazines at the check-in counter. This has Jackson written all over it. Out of the two of us, I’m the organized one, and since he’s been filling in for me, none of
