Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Ellie

Of course, Zachary Hart showed up early. The man is clearly so self-absorbed he thinks the world's population is here for no other reason than to serve him. I turn toward my class and announce, "Everyone on the ice. Practice your revolutions until I come back." Then I skate toward the opening in the boards where Troy is standing next to his brother.

"Hey, Ellie," Troy greets. "How's it going? The kids look like they're having a blast."

"Thanks to you and Kelly," I tell him. "These girls wouldn't be skating without you."

Troy passes off the compliment in that aw-shucks self-deprecating manner of his. "Sure they would. They'd just have to wait until the ponds froze up in the winter." He reaches an arm out toward his brother. "Zach came a day early. I hope that won't be a problem." Before I can answer, he adds, "Zach, this is Ellie Butler."

I shift my attention in the billionaire's direction, with every intention of giving him a piece of my mind. But as soon as our eyes meet, my throat constricts, making coherent verbal communication impossible—on my part anyway.

Zach is way hotter than he looks in the tabloids and on TV. He also possesses a magnetic aura that's drawing me in—like I inexplicably want to jump into his arms. How is that even possible since I fervently loathe him?

Mr. Smug extends his hand to shake mine. "I wanted to get here ahead of the press."

My eyes drop to the offered hand and bounce back to stare at his—dang it—handsome face. Keeping both of my arms at my sides, I tell him, "The cottage won't be ready until tomorrow."

"I was worried it wouldn't," Troy says. "But that's no problem. Zach can stay with us for the night. The boys can't wait to see him."

Zach has other ideas. "I don't mind if it isn't perfect." He continues, "I'm going to need a quiet place to work, and my nephews are anything but quiet."

"Then you should stay at the lodge," I tell him, unwilling to budge on his occupation date.

"That won't work for me."

"Why?" I demand incredulously. Does this guy really think the entire world is at his beck and call?

"Because the team arrives tomorrow, and the press will be on site. I don't want to be anywhere near them until I'm ready."

I unconsciously look at his fingernails and wonder if he gets manicures. Sure enough, there are no cuticles, and his nails look shiny and buffed.

"Afraid they'll make you look bad?" My sarcasm is heavy.

Zach's shoulders square off like he's turned to stone. "Excuse me?" He's clearly not used to anyone standing up to him.

"The cottage will be ready tomorrow after three," I tell him firmly. "The key will be waiting for you in the office." I glance at Troy to make sure I haven't made him angry, but he looks nothing short of amused .

"I need to stay there tonight ," Zach says more firmly than he should for a man with no control over the situation.

"Good luck with that." I know I'm taking things too far, but I can't seem to stop myself.

Richie Rich runs a hand through his hair like he's going to rip it out. "Ellie, is it?" He knows darn well that's my name, so I don't respond. "What is it going to take for me to get into your mother's cottage right now?"

I motion toward my class before telling him, "A genie in a lamp. You got one of those?" I don't wait for him to answer. "I'm in class right now, and there's no way I can leave the rink for at least another forty minutes."

Troy's phone rings but he doesn't bother to answer it. Instead, without even looking down, he pushes the button to send the call to voicemail. His gaze continues to bounce between me and his brother, obviously enjoying our heated exchange.

"I can wait forty minutes," Zach says.

" Or , you could wait until tomorrow after three." There's no way he can expect to check into a hotel early. Although maybe he would.

"Ellie." Zach inhales deeply before slowly releasing the pent-up breath. "I need to get settled in the cottage today, and I need you to tell me what you require to make that happen."

This guy isn't going to give it a rest, so I say the most ridiculous thing that comes to mind. "You'll need to roll up your sleeves and help me finish cleaning it." A man like him would never go for that in a million years.

Before I can celebrate my win, he says, "Fine. I'll wait for your class to end and then you can take me to my new home."

What? "I'm putting you in charge of all the windows, inside and out," I threaten. He's sure to back off now.

"No problem."

I suddenly feel like I'm living a fever dream. "Cleaning windows in the woods is a dirty job. It takes a lot of time and elbow grease. "

"I know what cleaning windows means." He stares down at me like he's my overlord and I'm an insignificant serf.

Well, two can play that game, mister . "You have to get my stamp of approval and I'm not going to let you leave any streaks," I warn.

Troy tries to cover his laughter with a cough but he's not successful. I'm glad someone is having a good time.

"Ellie," Zach says calmly, "go finish your class. I'll be waiting here when you're done."

We're at a standstill. I don't know how I'm going to get away from this situation. I obviously cannot finish my class because he just now told me to. The only thing I can do now is plot to make Zach's afternoon of cleaning as miserable as possible. While that sounds like a lot of fun, spending any time near him is sure to be a chore. I'm furious with myself for my reaction—my hands are sweaty, and my heart is pounding like a teenager in love. Being that I'm neither a teenager nor in love, I should be stone-cold indifferent to Zachary Hart.

Troy interrupts my thoughts. "You two should place a wager."

"On how well I clean windows?" Zach seems appalled by the idea, which makes me a real fan of it.

"If you don't clean them to my satisfaction, you'll have to pay an extra month's rent," I decide.

"And if I clean them to your standards, I get a free month's rent?"

"Hardly," I snap. "If you clean them to my standards then you get to stay there tonight." I'm going to lose even more respect for Zach if he doesn't tell me what to do with this bet before storming away.

"Fine." Zach turns around and sits down on the bleachers. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping away. I've been dismissed.

"Soooo," Troy says. "It looks like you've got everything under control here …"

"Please tell Kelly I'll be over tomorrow morning," I tell Troy before turning around and skating back to my class. Who does Zachary Hart think he is? How dare he force himself into his lease ahead of schedule? And more importantly, why is he so eager to wash windows?

For the next forty minutes, I valiantly try to focus on my aspiring figure skaters. I'm only half successful as my gaze is repeatedly drawn to the bleachers where Zach is sitting. He's so engrossed in his telephone, he doesn't look at me once. Which makes me even madder.

For obvious reasons, I'm reluctant to end the lesson, so I keep the kids on the ice until their parents start to come up to get them. I'd keep teaching until midnight if I could, but that doesn't appear to be an option. There's a three-day weekend coming up and everyone is trying to get in their last camping adventure of the year. From what I hear, folks have already started setting up their tents by the river.

Once all the kids are off the ice, I sit down on the bench to take off my skates. I wonder if I could feign illness to get out of spending the afternoon with Zachary Hart. Yet the man is so pigheaded he'd probably agree to clean the whole cabin himself.

I'm so engrossed in my task, I don't realize I've been snuck up on until I hear, "You ready to go?"

I don't have to look up to know who's doing the asking. I simply hiss, "Yessss." Then I grab my skates and turn toward the exit. In a slow march, I lead the way like I'm heading to my own execution.