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The woman looked up, her gaze fixing on the view outside as she tapped the end of her pen against her chin, and Rhys caught his breath. Stunning. That was the word that came to mind, nothing as bland or ordinary as pretty. Her features were too strong for it, her nose a smooth, straight line, her jaw one he’d bet had been described as stubborn. He found himself willing her to look his way so he could take her in properly. Not appropriate. The warning voice in his head had a point, but Rhys couldn’t find it in himself to care as he pushed up out of his chair. It was still twenty minutes until their appointed meeting time, but he didn’t want to wait a moment longer to meet this woman.
The sound of the chair scraping on the floor must’ve disturbed her because she glanced sharply from the window, eyes wide and startled. Damn. Rhys regretted his impulsivity, but it was too late to change his mind. Fixing her with a smile, he approached her table with his hand extended. ‘Ms Blake?’
She composed her features with a swiftness Rhys admired, going from confusion to polite attention in the second it took her to stand and meet him. ‘Mr Travers?’
‘Rhys, please.’ They shook hands and he tried not to notice the little tingle in the centre of his palm as they touched. You need a site manager, not a girlfriend. The reminder was enough to make him step back a little, even though he didn’t think he’d encroached on her personal space. ‘We’re not big on formality here.’
‘Then please call me Tasha. I suppose when you work so close with your family, titles and status don’t really matter so much.’
‘They certainly don’t as far as my grandfather is concerned.’ When she gave him a polite, but puzzled look, Rhys smiled. ‘The current Baron Stourton-de-Lacey-Travers is currently rattling around South America somewhere in an old VW camper van, happily ignoring all his responsibilities.’
Tasha frowned. ‘Oh, I see. Well, I suppose that must make things a bit awkward when it comes to decision making.’
Rhys shook his head. ‘Not at all. Monty is happy doing his own thing and he’s left everything to the rest of us to manage, which honestly suits us as much as it does him.’ He reached to rub the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed at having blurted out so much information. ‘Sorry, can you tell I’m not used to holding interviews?’
Her expression relaxed into a broad smile that softened her features. A hint of a dimple appeared in her left cheek, making her look instantly younger, less severe. He quite liked the severe version and could imagine her facing down recalcitrant workers and suppliers with ease. ‘If I’m going to be working here, I’ll need to know how things operate. I appreciate your candour. I’m used to a more corporate environment but I’m sure it won’t take me long to adjust to your way of doing things. In fact, it might be fun.’
It was a confident statement, as confident as the way she held his gaze. Yes, if Tasha Blake lived up to his first impressions of her she would be a formidable asset to the estate. All he had to do was not stuff up the next hour by blurting out random stuff about his family’s worst eccentricities. ‘I know it’s a bit early, but if you’re ready I can show you around?’
‘Of course. Just let me gather my things.’ It didn’t take her more than a minute to tidy away her tablet, notepad and pen into a small backpack, which she hooked over one shoulder. She laid her jacket over her arm and smiled. ‘All set. I had a drive around earlier, to try and get a feel for the place. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Absolutely.’ If she’d been here long enough to look around then she really must be keen. Rhys held out his arm and gestured towards the door. ‘Penny mentioned you’d asked her about packed lunches for guests staying here.’
Tasha paused to look up at him. ‘I hope you don’t mind? I saw the little shop next to the shower block and it started me thinking about what facilities you already offer.’
‘It’s a great idea.’ Rhys led the way to the door and held it open for her. ‘It’s exactly the kind of initiative I’m looking for.’
The chilly wind hit him as soon as he stepped outside. ‘My car’s just over there.’ They both quickened their step and were soon seated inside the shelter of his Range Rover. Rhys tugged on his seat belt and turned the engine on, grateful when the heating kicked in. ‘I’ll be frank with you, Tasha. The reason I advertised for a manager is because I simply haven’t had time to do what’s needed to be done. The farm is my main priority, but we need all the revenue streams available to us to be operating properly. Whoever I take on to run the camping side of things will have pretty much free rein to make suggestions and improvements.’
She looked at him for a long moment. ‘That’s good to know.’ She hesitated again then said, ‘As we’re putting all our cards on the table, can I ask what happened last summer?’
‘How did you know about that?’ Even as he was saying it, he knew. If she was the type of person to turn up early and scout around, then she was definitely the kind of person to do some research online. ‘You don’t have to worry about the stuff you read in the papers. Half of it is made up and the rest an exaggeration.’
Tasha fixed him with a bold stare. ‘So you weren’t the victim of a sabotage campaign that forced you to close the estate for several weeks at the height of the season?’
Rhys decided perhaps he wasn’t quite so keen on her severe expression, not when he was on the receiving end at least. ‘All you need to know is that it won’t be happening again.’ He didn’t care if she thought him rude, he wasn’t going to talk about it. Amelia deserved better than that from him. Tasha could either accept his explanation or she wouldn’t, but he wasn’t raking that dirt over again just to satisfy her curiosity. ‘Shall we get started?’
Tasha was quiet on the short drive from the stable yard to the campsite. Rhys considered apologising but wasn’t sure how to without bringing the topic up again. By the time he’d parked in the empty campsite car park, he was glad to escape the confined space. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his waxed jacket, Rhys strode towards the large open space of the main camping grounds. ‘We’ve used this area previously for those bringing tents.’
‘How many pitches do you usually have? I didn’t see any demarcation lines when I was up here earlier, so it was hard to calculate.’
‘We’ve usually just let people set up where they like,’ Rhys admitted. ‘It’s never been so busy that it’s caused a problem.’
‘Would you have any objections if I measured and marked out specific plots? People like their own space and it would avoid issues of encroachment. Nothing too intrusive, perhaps some low-level picket-style fencing, maybe a bit of planting to brighten things up. I’d keep it rustic, old water troughs full of summer flowers and trailing ivy, maybe lavender for the scent.’ She offered him her tablet. ‘I’ve pinned a few images to give you an idea.’
Rhys scanned through the photos of pretty pink and purple flowers he had no idea the names of, but he suspected Tasha did, then turned in a slow circle, picturing the blank grassy area marked out with neat lines of white fencing interspersed with bursts of colour. ‘It’d make it a lot more welcoming.’
Tasha smiled as he handed back the tablet. ‘And I’d be able to track and hopefully sell all the available spaces more easily. How do you do that at the moment? I noticed on the website there was an enquiry email and a phone number but no actual booking system.’
‘I’ve got a diary that I make a note of everything in,’ Rhys admitted, feeling as though he was the one being interrogated rather than the other way around. Then again, he had told her he was open to ideas and improvements.
‘I see. Would you be averse to something a bit more automated? People like to be able to see what’s available immediately. Anything that puts a barrier or an extra step in the process could deter potential customers. Plus not everyone is comfortable speaking on the phone, especially if they’re worried they’re going to get the hard sell when they call with a simple enquiry.’
‘I guess we’ve always relied on the personal touch. It’s definitely something to think about.’
‘If you automate the basic processes then there’d be more time to spend on personalising the service offered. How long does it take to manage each booking manually?’
‘Too damn long! Okay, okay, I’m sold on the booking system,’ Rhys told her with a laugh. ‘I did warn you that I haven’t been able to put much thought into things.’
