Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘DIOS!’HEWASpacing his room at the inn like a caged animal. From having no feelings to this?

The moment he’d seen Rose with her father, any anger he’d felt at her desertion had swung to concern for a valued member of staff. A drunken father—a drunken pilot—the connection was unavoidable. This was his worst nightmare come true.

But he wasn’t standing by helpless this time. He’d summed up the situation at the farmhouse in a glance. The old man needed more help than either Rose or her neighbours could give him, which was all the more reason for Raffa to bring forward his plans. He glanced at his watch. Rose was due shortly. The inn was close to her farm. Sleep had eluded him, but that was no fault of the warm-hearted landlady. The accommodation was more than adequate. Bed. Bathroom. Desk. What more did he need?

He’d reserved a private room downstairs for his meeting with Rose. This was no romantic tryst, but the venue for a serious talk. She couldn’t just take off whenever she felt like it. There was a process to be followed, as Rose well knew. He relied on his staff, particularly someone entrusted with one of the most vital jobs. The only reason he was prepared to cut Rose some slack was because no one understood loyalty to family better than he. Hearing a door open and close, and the murmur of voices, he headed downstairs. Rose brought the chill of morning with her, along with her familiar wildflower scent. She looked tense. He barely had a chance to say hello before the landlady he’d struck a deal with to buy the inn bustled forward.

‘I’ve prepared the room as you asked.’ She beamed. ‘Your room now, Señor Acosta. If there’s anything else I can get you?’

‘Nothing,’ he said briskly. ‘Thank you. I’m sure everything will be fine.’

He’d planned to tell Rose about his purchase of the inn at a more appropriate time. Now she looked shocked. It couldn’t be helped. In his world things moved quickly. In this instance that speed could only benefit Rose. ‘Come in,’ he invited, noting how pale she looked.

‘This is your room?’ Rose challenged the moment the door was shut.

He allowed himself a moment of pleasure at the fact that a fire had been lit and two battered leather armchairs, made more inviting with the addition of hand-sewn cushions, had been drawn up either side. These were good people, full of good intentions. ‘I’ll answer your questions later,’ he promised, indicating one of the seats. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘I don’t want to eat,’ Rose told him in a clipped tone. ‘I’d rather get this over with. If you’re going to fire me, please don’t draw it out.’

‘I’ve brought you here to discuss your future on my ranch.’

More colour drained from her cheeks.

‘Rose, listen to me before you draw any conclusions. I’m going to call for coffee, toast and eggs. You’re no good to me in pieces. I know the situation at home is hard, but you don’t have to battle through this on your own.’

‘And then you’ll fire me,’ she said confidently.

‘There’s a process to follow on my yard, as you well know. I’m not firing you. Gross misconduct would call for instant dismissal, and I hardly think leaving my bed in the early hours fits the bill.’ Rose’s jaw worked, but she said nothing. ‘You’ll get through this,’ he promised, ‘but you can’t disappear on a whim. If something important happens outside work, all the more reason to come to me and explain why you’re worried. That’s what I’m here for.’

Her green eyes turned dark with emotion. ‘So, you’re not sacking me.’

‘I just said so. This is simply a reminder that the position of Head Groom can’t be left empty for long.’

‘I don’t expect it to be. Adena will cover for me. And, please believe me, I didn’t anticipate any of this.’

‘But you must have known how sick your father was, and yet you didn’t tell me.’

‘How could I tell you under these particular circumstances, knowing I’d only add to your grief over your own parents?’

‘I think I can handle it.’

‘Can you?’

She looked so concerned, he couldn’t be angry with her. Everything she did, all she had ever done, was always for the good of other people. On that thought he called for breakfast. She looked as if she hadn’t eaten properly in days.

‘It’s been a race against time,’ she confessed. ‘Save enough money for my father’s care, or stay here to care for him without any money. Those were my choices. I foolishly thought I’d have sufficient funds in time to save him.’

‘You can’t live your life playing catch-up, Rose.’

‘Tell me about it,’ she agreed with a humourless laugh. Straightening up, she raised her chin bravely. ‘So, the pub belongs to you now?’

‘It does,’ he confirmed.

‘There’s just so much to take in. I couldn’t believe it when you arrived last night. What are you up to, Raffa?’

‘I’m here on business.’

‘Buying up the village, and fitting in some pastoral care at the same time? I’m sorry,’ Rose added quickly, with a gesture suggesting she’d do anything to undo those words. ‘I’ve no right to question you. It’s just that our situation is so complicated.’

‘No, it isn’t. If I can keep my personal and professional lives apart, so can you. I’m offering you a way forward. Take your holiday entitlement if you need to, but don’t shut me out. As your employer, I’ll support you any way I can, but the position of Head Groom must be filled—if not by you, then by someone else.’

Dios!What was he saying? This wasn’t about business, it was all about Rose. He wanted to help her as much as he could, but she wouldn’t let him.

‘I appreciate you giving me a second chance,’ she said, matching his formal tone. ‘I’d like to take you up on the offer.’

With that, she got up and left the room, leaving him to smash his fist into the table with frustration.

‘I hope I’m not too late,’ the landlady announced within moments of Rose leaving as she backed into the room with a loaded tray of food.

‘Just leave it on the table, thank you.’

He could think of nothing but Rose—chin up, shoulders back, typical Rose, ready to take on the next challenge and the next. Her fighting spirit would see her through, but she couldn’t go on like this forever. If she refused his help, he’d watch from the wings, ready to catch her if she fell. He would always care for Rose, even from a distance.

Care was a strange word, very close to love...

And didn’t he destroy those he loved?

Not this time. He couldn’t fix everything, but nothing on earth would stop him caring for Rose.

Rose went straight from the meeting with Raffa to check on her father, who was living with Máire and her boys at the bakery. Rose was looking forward to seeing him, and dreading it too. She never knew what to expect, and it was impossible to be in his company without feeling such regret for the man he might have been. Máire had said he was responding well to the discipline her sons imposed, but, as Raffa had pointed out, that only was a temporary solution. Relationships were rarely straightforward, she reflected as she walked down the village street. With the threat of dismissal removed, Rose was relieved, but not comforted. Nothing could compensate for losing the closeness she’d so briefly experienced with Raffa, and his new formality had left her feeling she’d lost something precious that she might never get back. You can’t have everything, she told herself firmly as she knocked on Máire’s door. That would be greedy.

‘I’ve given your father the small bedroom directly above the bakery,’ Máire explained as she welcomed Rose inside. ‘It has its own bathroom, and there’s no access to either exit without going past my room,’ she added with a wink. ‘But he’s out with my boys at the moment. You’ll stay for a mug of tea?’

‘Will they be long?’ Rose asked with concern, picturing the wreck of a man she’d brought home from the police cell. News that her father was out with Máire’s strapping lads might either herald a turning point or a chance for him to escape the bakery to sneak off for a drink. Whichever it was, Rose had good cause to worry.

‘They’ll walk him to death, if they don’t work him to death first,’ Máire confided. ‘And they’re on top of his drinking. They got their own father sober, remember?’

Rose hummed diplomatically. She remembered Máire’s husband stopping the drink, but she also remembered him running off with the vicar’s wife afterwards.

‘Your father had too much time on his hands to think about your mother, and he’ll not get a drink here,’ Máire reassured her. ‘So, you go find that meal of a man, and ask about his plans for the hall—’

‘The hall?’ Rose tensed. ‘Don’t you mean the pub?’

Máire laughed as if Rose had just said the funniest thing. ‘Pub, the hall—who knows what else he’s bought up in the village? By the time Señor Acosta’s finished here, we’ll all be dancing the flamenco and snapping our castanets.’

His team was well on with the purchase of the Old Hall. He hadn’t mentioned it to Rose, as he didn’t want to raise her hopes until the deal was done. The large baronial-style building was perfect for one of his sister’s retreats. He couldn’t wait to tell Sofia what he’d found.

‘You do know I’m still on my honeymoon?’ Sofia complained with her usual good humour.

Hearing a steel band in the background, he drew his own conclusions. Her husband, Cesar, had never stinted on exotic hideaways. He’d probably bought a new island for his bride. ‘This won’t take long.’

‘Just don’t buy up everything in the village,’ Sofia said with concern when he explained his plan, ‘or Rose might think you’re taking over. Don’t hurt her, Raffa. She’s got more than enough to put up with.’

Sofia and Rose had enjoyed some quiet time in the run-up to the wedding, with plenty of chance to unload. ‘I’ve no intention of hurting anyone. I’m helping by—’

‘Buying up everything?’ his sister suggested dryly. ‘May I humbly suggest that might not work where Rose is concerned?’

‘The Old Hall will make an excellent retreat.’

‘My first in Ireland,’ his sister reflected thoughtfully.

‘Why not?’

Sofia was forced to agree. ‘For once, I can’t think of a single reason to argue with you.’

‘Which must mean it’s time for you to get back to enjoying your honeymoon, while I put these ideas into action.’

‘Explain your plan carefully to Rose. She won’t thank you for throwing your money around, unless she understands why you’re doing it. Rose is determined to stand on her own two feet, and I admire her for it.’

‘You like her?’

‘I like her a lot,’ Sofia confirmed, ‘and I want you to be happy, but that means taking off your blinkers to see things from Rose’s point of view. Can you do that, Raffa?’

He refused to be drawn on the subject of Rose.

‘You want me to butt out of your love life?’ Sofia suggested.

‘I don’t need your advice,’ he confirmed.

‘True,’ she said. ‘You need crowd control.’

Ice rushed through Rose’s veins as she clutched her phone to her face. Her oldest brother, Declan, was on the other end of the line, telling Rose that Raffa Acosta had indeed bought the Old Hall. What next? she wondered, though in fairness the building had been derelict for some time, with no sign of anyone with either the money or the inclination to restore what had once been a thriving estate. ‘How do you know this?’

‘He phoned me. The man himself,’ Declan explained, sounding as pleased as Punch.

‘Raffa Acosta phoned you?’ Rose’s brow pleated in puzzlement. Raffa hadn’t said a word to her. ‘What else did he say?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘He’ll be making an offer for the farm next,’ Declan said, in what Declan would call his ‘only half joking’ voice.

There was no joke about it, as far as Rose was concerned. ‘And you think that’s a good idea?’

‘It would be a solution,’ Declan confessed. ‘It would let you off the hook, for a start.’

‘I don’t want to be let off the hook.’

‘Why do you keep on supporting our father, after the way he treated you and our mother?’

And my brothers, Rose thought, taking a moment to revisit the past before returning her attention to the call. ‘He’s ill, Dec. Alcoholism is an illness. Our father needs help, not blame. If we did sell the farm, I’m frightened the shock might tip him over the edge. I can’t just let that happen, and then walk out on him.’

‘That’s easy to say when he’s not trying to knock your teeth out.’

‘He’d never do that to me,’ Rose declared. ‘All that bluff and bluster was just the drink talking.’

‘He’d only have to fall on you, to knock you out flat.’

‘I think I’m a bit nimbler on my feet than he is. Look, I’ll get back to you, Dec,’ Rose soothed, knowing Declan was remembering things in the past that couldn’t help either of them now. ‘I’ll let you know what I find out,’ she promised.

Raffa was buying up the Old Hall as well as the pub? Rose’s heart pounded like a jackhammer at the thought. What was he up to? He’d admitted he was in Ireland for business. That had stung at the time, but now the possibility of selling the farm had entered her mind, she was forced to consider it. The money it raised would allow her father to have the best treatment, while her brothers would each get a stake to plough into a business of their own. With Raffa at the helm, the farm animals would have the best care, and the land would be maintained to the highest standard. Was it such a bad idea? There was no point dwelling on it now. She had to speak to Raffa.

‘A new era unfolds!’ the landlady at the pub exclaimed the moment she heard Rose’s voice. ‘Señor Acosta is not only keeping us all on, he’s increasing our wages. What a marvel he is, Rose. The man hasn’t stopped all day.’

No, Raffa had definitely been busy, Rose reflected tensely as she replayed the conversation with Declan. ‘If he’s still there, I’m coming over to speak to him. See you soon—’ Before the landlady had a chance to answer, Rose had cut the line, grabbed her battered waxed jacket from the hook behind the door, and was on her way to confront a man causing more uproar in the village than if aliens had landed.

There was no doubt Raffa could do a lot for the area. Equally, trying to stop him doing anything people in the village disagreed with would be like trying to stop a juggernaut in its tracks.

Ideas flooded Rose’s mind. Digging out her phone with frozen fingers, she placed a call, and hurried on. She’d barely walked half a mile when she heard a powerful engine approaching. Pressing back into the bare twigs of the hedge, she gasped with shock as the vehicle roared past, shooting filthy water into her face. There was only one man who could afford to drive a car like that around here. Boss or not, she shook her fist at the disappearing tail lights. The SUV screeched to a halt. Raffa must have seen her through the rear-view mirror. Good job he hadn’t heard her swearing at him. Mud-drenched, she stalked towards him. Not only was Raffa Acosta a control freak, who thought he could buy up Rose’s home town, he was also, she reluctantly noted as he opened the driver’s window, the hottest guy this side of hell.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she blazed on a breath tense with anger.

‘I wanted to see you.’

‘Well, now you’ve seen me, what d’you think?’ She held out her arms, to reveal the extent of her soaking.

‘You need a bath?’ Raffa suggested in a husky drawl that would have made her toes curl, if they hadn’t been frozen solid in her boots.

‘Hop in, Rose. You’ll be warm in here.’

‘You’ll be seared to a crisp if I climb in beside you. Where do you think you are? A racetrack?’

‘Truce?’ Raffa suggested, with a look in his eyes and a curve to his sinfully sensuous mouth that brought a rush of inconvenient memories of the hot kind flooding back. ‘Truce as far as the farmhouse, at least,’ he amended. ‘I’m here to repent.’

Rose hummed.

‘When you’re clean and warm again, I’ll explain. Meanwhile...’ leaning across the cab, he opened the passenger door ‘...jump in.’

She was freezing cold, covered in mud and still furious, but the draught of warm air from the interior of the cab was fragrant with the spicy aroma of Raffa. ‘There’ll be a surcharge for valeting the vehicle,’ she warned.

A smile flickered at one corner of his mouth. ‘I think I can cover it. Get in, Rose...’

Sometimes it was better to admit you needed help and just say thank you. And if ever there’d been a time to be swept into the rock-solid warmth of Raffa’s world, however temporary a stay that might be, this was it.