Cooped Up for Christmas - Sabrina York Page 0,16

ardent Carlo and Coop’s chortles when he noticed. Ugh.

Thank God the masseurs packed up and left on time—taking Carlo with them (an extra thank God for that small miracle)—and the guests retreated to their rooms to get ready for dinner.

I practically held my breath. Hoping, praying, nothing happened to change their plans of going out.

My prayers were answered. They all piled into their cars and yes! As soon as they left, the whole energy of the place changed. It was easy to pretend that this was our house for Christmas and we were the special ones.

Of course, we didn’t dare eat dinner in the main house—not when we’d have to be the ones to clean it all up. We all gathered together in the staff kitchen for the meal instead. It was warm, intimate, and surprisingly homey. Noel had made us a Mexican fiesta, for some reason. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but surprisingly, I enjoyed it. The conversation was quick and witty and I found myself laughing more than I intended. I got to know Mungo and Christie better—between whom I was sandwiched—which was nice, because I didn’t work much with Coop’s team, and I found I really liked them both.

Mason was there too. Apparently, he’d adopted me as his new best friend, setting his long wet snout on my jeans and drooling all over my leg while I ate. Coop laughed and said Mason just knew who the softie was, but I was pretty sure if there was a softie at the table, it sure wasn’t me.

But I did give the hound some scraps; he seemed to really enjoy Mexican food. And then, when Coop asked me to stop because beans gave Mason the hot farts, I did it under the table.

It was a wonderful break, and a really lovely meal, but we needed to get back to work. When I stood, nearly everyone groaned.

“Party pooper,” Coop said sotto voce.

I gave him a reproving glance. “We need to do turndowns,” I reminded them all. In a house that large, with that many bedrooms and bathrooms, it could take a while to tidy everything up. Especially with this particular clientele. “Also, Whit mentioned the adults might want a nightcap when they return.”

Wren nodded and set down her napkin. “I’ll go set up the bar.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And, Ben, can we make sure the hot tub is at 102°?”

“Will do.”

We all split up then to get back to work. Well, my team. Cooper and his people had work to do preparing for tomorrow’s events. I had no idea what they were doing, I just hoped all the guests went with him—or with Ken—because the house was so nice with no one there.

I was in the great room with Ben, trying to get the big screen TV to play YouTube, as Farley had requested, when Wren came into the room with a rumpled brow.

“Excuse me, Victoria?”

“Yes, Wren?”

“I’m going through the bar and I can’t find the Don Julio tequila. The 1942? Jamison’s mother specifically asked for it.”

I frowned. That particular bottle was over a hundred dollars a pop. Had one of the staff helped themselves? That was a huge no-no. “I thought we had two bottles in the bar?”

She nodded. “We did.”

Yikes. “Can you do another search? Just to make sure it hasn’t been mislaid?”

“Sure. Uh…”

I looked at her. “Yes?”

“Should we search the guests’ rooms?”

“Why don’t you go up now and help Olivia with turndowns. Have a look around.” Honestly, the liquor was for the guests. If they wanted it, it was here for them. What I didn’t want was to have a guest ask for something specific, and not have it on hand. It wasn’t like there was a liquor store around the block out here in the boonies.

A short while later, Wren returned with our two bottles of Don Julio 1942—both bone dry. Her brows arched into her dark bangs. “I found these in Jamison’s room. I guess he drank all of it.”

Awesome.

What on earth could we do about this? Ah… “Okay. Double check in the storage shed. It’s a popular vintage. We might have a bottle or two in there.”

She grimaced. “The storage shed? It’s creepy.” Gosh. And here I thought all Goths liked creepy stuff. Kids. I’ll never understand them.

“Take someone with you.”

My mind spun. How could I get my hands on more Don Julio 1942 by the time Carmella came back from dinner? I knew she was going to ask for it. Did Amazon