The One I Want

by Scott, S. L.

  Andrew . . .

  Andrew . . .

  Andrew named chief executive officer of Christiansen Wealth Management.

  I sink back and stare out the window.

  Andrew isn’t just a sexy new neighbor who I find mildly (humor me here) attractive and majorly frustrating to figure out. Andrew is Andrew Christiansen.

  My new boss.

  10

  Juni

  “I’ve been given no choice.”

  The door opens wider. “I didn’t catch the ultimatum.”

  “Oh, there’s no ultimatum. I’m just quitting my job before there is one.”

  “Are you not going to walk Rascal anymore?” Mr. Clark asks, scratching his head. Rascal whimpers at my feet. “Do you want me to pay you more money, Juni?” He ducks into his living room, leaving me standing in the doorway with the leash in hand. “I have a two-dollar bill around here somewhere.”

  “I didn’t even know they made those anymore?”

  He laughs to himself as he pulls the urn off his shelf. “I used to get them at the club.” Looking back at me, I’m given a mischievous grin. He waggles his thick eyebrows, and then adds, “The ladies’ club, if you know what I mean.”

  “Unfortunately, I do know what you mean.” It’s an image I’ll spend the rest of the day trying to rid from my brain. I continue, “I don’t need more money or any money for that matter. I walk Rascal for free, remember?” Rascal yaps. “I was talking about my day job. Also, put the urn back. You don’t want to spill Mrs. Clark on the rug again.”

  He holds up a finger. “Right.” Standing in front of the shelf, he kisses it, and says, “You always did like the sunshine, my darling,” before placing it in a spot of sunlight. My heart melts as I hold my chest. Ninety-three years young and was lucky enough to be married to the love of his life for seventy of those.

  When he comes back to the door, he asks, “How’d Rascal like his walk?”

  I smile. His memory may be fading, but his heart is always in the right place. “I’m taking him now. We’ll be back in a little while, Mr. Clark.”

  He’s already lost interest and is settling into his recliner. “Thanks, Marion.”

  I never correct him when he calls me by my grandmother’s name because for a moment, I can feel her with me again. She’d get a kick out of the sweet mistake. I shut the door and then kneel to have a chat with Rascal. “Upstairs today or to the park?” I release his leash, and he legs it for the elevators. “The park it is.”

  Gil will be gone, done with his shift for the weekend, but seeing Pete sitting behind the desk makes me wonder if I should run my idea by him.

  “Hey, Juni, it’s a beautiful Saturday.”

  “It sure is.” I keep walking, thinking it’s best if I don’t put a damper on his day with my issues.

  He pops out of his chair and opens the door wide for us. “Where are you and Rascal heading today?”

  “I think a quick stroll around the park and maybe some ice cream from The Barkery down the street.”

  “I was just there on Thursday. Picked up some peanut butter treats for Enzo. He devoured them. I bet Rascal would like the nutty nibbles.”

  Pete spoils his pit bull like a kid. It’s really sweet. “We’ll have to try them. Have a great day.”

  He’s right. It’s a beautiful day. The sun’s shining, a blue sky is overhead, and flowers are blooming. Spring is just magical as the earth reawakens from the dormant winter.

  Rascal tugs on his leash. He’s only ten pounds, so I can handle him, but geez. “Slow your horses. Well, paws in your case. We’re almost there.”

  Just as we enter the park, I freeze. Tensing my lips, I give Rascal my best evil eyes. “You little traitor. You tricked me.”

  I look down the path to where Andrew’s stretching—sweaty hair with glistening skin and biceps he’s been hiding under too many clothes since we met. “Oh my.” I fan myself, and then ask Rascal, “How about Central Park today?”

  He yaps his approval. It’s so cute when he replies.

  “Juni?”

  Okay, maybe not so cute when he draws unwanted attention, though . . .

  I head back down the path to the sidewalk, my pace rivaling Olympian speed walkers if speed walking is a thing in the Olympics. I’d probably win. I’d better. There’s no point entering a competition to lose.

  What am I talking about?

  “Juni, wait up.”

  I turn back to see him actually jogging after me. Shit. I’m never going to outwalk his pace. Seeing the edge of the landscaping, I’m left with no other choice. I duck behind the shrub and lower my head. It’s not the most mature reaction to seeing someone you totally embarrassed yourself in front of the night before, but it’s the only answer I have right now.

  “What are you doing, Juni?”

  I remain silent. Not because I don’t think he can see me, but because I have nothing to say. And with the sun above, I don’t want to be tempted by those warm brown eyes to say the wrong thing, like I’m hiding from you.

  His feet come closer, and he squats down next to me. “What’s going on?”

  I’ve wanted to see these shrubs up close for a while now, so I don’t regret the decision to duck inside. His white shirt clings to him, soaked through with sweat. The scent of a forest by the ocean fills the air between us, making me realize even his sweat smells good. His hair is free of gel and hanging down after a hard workout, causing the wet tips to stick to his forehead.

  It’s the tint of his cheeks that I find irresistible, the slightest red from his body’s heat. He’s incredibly good-looking and makes my mind go fuzzy. I rattle off the first thing that comes to mind. “Enjoying the weather?” I’m tempted to bury my head in the dirt to give him time to realize he would have been better off if he’d kept walking.

  Rascal’s not hearing of it and tugs me sideways. Traitor. Anything to get to Andrew.

  Petting Rascal’s head, he replies, “I am. I went for a run and was just cooling down when I saw you. Other than running away from me for some unknown reason, what are you doing in there?”

  “Did you know,” I say, taking a green leaf between my fingers, “that a large swath of the population confuses the doublefile viburnum for a small, non-concealing tree? It’s actually a shrub and can spread easily if not managed. Not as bad as bamboo if we’re looking for comparisons, which we’re not.” Shut up, Juni.

  “That is interesting.” For a second, I’m not sure if he’s being truthful, but the sincerity in his eyes relieves me and causes me to smile.

  “I always thought so.” But then I remember I do not want to have a conversation with this man, at least not right now, so I clap my hands together. “Well, this bush looks healthy.”

  He stands, but his eyes remain on me. “Are bushes and shrubs the same thing? I’ve always wondered that.” He’s cute when he wonders too.

  “To a layperson, yes.”

  “What if you’re not a layperson?”

  Botany was never sexier than when Andrew is talking about plants. My heart patters against my rib cage, and I rest back on my hand. “No. One’s denser than the other.”

  “A bush has denser branches. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I reply, suddenly content spending all day hiding behind a shrub if I get to talk botany with him.

  He takes a step back to give me space. Offering his hand, he asks, “Would you like help up?”

  I’m already hating the distance, but I shake my head. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting charity.”

  He scoops Rascal into his arms, making me jealous of the little guy, and then sits down where the sidewalk meets the dirt. “Then I guess I’ll have to join you. That is, if you don’t mind the company.”

  “I don’t mind.” And that’s the truth.

  As he scratches Rascal’s back, Andrew says, “As a New Yorker, why do you know so much about plants?”

  I laugh. “What does me being a New Yorker have to do with my knowledge abou
t plants?”

  When he shrugs and lets his shoulders drop, I notice how relaxed he is. No coat hanger posture in sight. “I figured most people live in apartments without gardens.”

  “Ah. Well, that is true, but once upon a time, I lived in the Berkshires.”

  “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.”

  I love that New Yorkers walking by see us in the bushes but don’t say a thing. It’s like we’ve seen it all. A woman sitting in a bush? Okay. Just another day in this vibrant city. “So beautiful. It’s been years since I’ve been back.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  I pluck a leaf from the plant and study the skeletal structure, running my finger along the spine and turning it over in my hand. “Myself.” I glance up at him. There’s a soulfulness that comes with this more laid-back side of him. I like it.

  “I used to surf with my brother almost every morning before high school. We’d come rolling in just as the first bell would ring. Two kids from Beverly Hills—”

  “You’re from Beverly Hills?”

  I bet not much embarrasses him, but for some reason, this does. Dipping his head down, he runs his fingers through his hair. It’s dried messily, but not any less sexy. It might even be more so. God, I’m so shallow. And apparently sexually deprived.

  He replies, “Yeah, don’t hold it against me.”

  “Why would I do that? Is it an awful place to grow up? I thought it was always fancy when I saw it on TV.”

  Chuckling, he pulls a weed and then looks up at me again. “No. It’s a fine place to grow up. I had a great childhood with few complaints.”

  “What few do you have? Maybe you should get them off your chest.”

  When he stands, I can tell the winds of his mood have shifted. “I think I’m good. You still want to stay down there?”

  I hold my hand up. “I think I’m ready to stop hiding.”

  His laughter is heartier than usual. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. “Do you want to talk about what you’re hiding from, or should we keep things light?”

  “Light. Definitely light.” I tap the side of his leg as we start walking. “Nice shorts, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” His laughter carries us the next block until we reach the corner.

  I say, “I promised Rascal doggie-safe ice cream.”

  His arms cross over his chest as he looks at me. “Can’t disappoint the little guy.”

  “No.”

  “Hey, Juni, before you go, I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

  Here it comes . . .

  My face is already heating, just thinking about it.

  I look down the street. I’m not sure what he’s about to say, but it sounds serious from his tone. I mentally brace myself.

  “I think,” he starts, “I could use a friend. If the offer still stands.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He shifts to the side, looking down, and I recognize his awkwardness in the slight movements.

  Forget the heat of my cheeks. It’s my smile that I have to worry about. I think it’s about to expand right off my face. “I’d like that.”

  “You would?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

  “I definitely would.”

  Satisfaction fills his smile, and his eyes shine brighter. It might be the sun since he squints right after, but I’ll take it because it’s a good look on him. “Okay, we’ll be friends then.”

  “Friends.” I stick out my hand again, but this time when he grasps mine, we shake on it.

  Our gazes linger as long as our hands stay connected, which is at least long enough for me to wonder if maybe there’s something—No.

  Friends.

  That’s all.

  11

  Juni

  Officially being friends with Andrew doesn’t solve my immediate issues. Mainly that I live in the same building, and he still doesn’t know. Oh, and he’s my boss.

  During my first few days at work, we never ran into each other. I have no idea how luck was on my side, but it was a clean sweep for the week. So yeah, that we’re working in the same office will come as a surprise to him as well.

  This whole friends thing adds extra complications.

  I do the only thing that’s right. I march into work on Monday with a formal letter of resignation ready to send from my draft emails—one for the agency, who is really the only one I need to send it to, and one for Laurie, the head of HR at CWM. She’s been so supportive that I feel I owe her the personal courtesy.

  The problem is, I’ve enjoyed this job. Having a routine and accomplishing daily tasks has been fun, and exceeding their expectations is exhilarating. I may not be professionally trained for the job, but I think I’ve done well at picking up the skills required. Even with the position extending for ten weeks, I had just adjusted the dread of anticipation to return. Now I’m full of doubts again. Did I knowingly sabotage myself?

  Does it matter anymore?

  No. I need to walk away before I sabotage my new friendship. I email Laurie, set the calls to go to the answering service, and head to the Cave before the bossman shows up. It’s a straight shot down the hall, but I look both ways just to make sure the coast is clear before I even step a foot through the main doors. I dash ahead but slow when I reach the other end of the walkway. I’m quick to study each plaque, finding Head of HR on the fourth door.

  Knocking lightly, I wait to enter until I hear, “Come in.”

  I spin inside, my back pressing to the door, and a sense of relief washes through me.

  Laurie asks, “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” I say, waving my hand like it’s no big deal. I don’t tell her I’m hiding from the CEO. That would just lead to questions for answers I don’t have. “I’m fine.” Approaching her desk, I continue, “I would like to speak with you about—”

  “I just got your email.” She angles her chair toward me and rests her arms on the desk in front of her. “I’m kind of surprised. This is a temporary job. You said you’ve enjoyed being here when I checked in with you last Friday. I felt like it was a good fit so far. Do you mind me asking why you decided to leave? You don’t have to answer, of course, if you don’t want to. I’m just curious if you can help me fill in the blanks.”

  I silently check off each point in my head.

  The boss is sexy.

  He’ll think I’m stalking him. Again. He’ll think I lied about knowing he works here.

  I also, just by pure coincidence, live in the same building as him.

  And finally, Andrew, aka Mr. CEO, and I are friends. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure he won’t get a kick out of the previous three points.

  None of the above appear to be viable avenues to travel down when explaining the situation, so I take a more obvious route. “I do enjoy the office and most everyone I’ve met . . .” I don’t mention Justin or how he hangs around the front desk a little too long or makes me uncomfortable when he insists on showing me the new steno pads in the supply room. “I’m just not being challenged.”

  “I was afraid of that.” If eyes could physically light up, hers do. “I’m also not upset to hear you say that. I know you’re overqualified for the position, but you’re very good at it.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Joseph and I were talking about offering you full-time employment, either up front or somewhere else in the office. We think you can find something challenging here at CWM that you’ll enjoy.” Leaning forward like an old friend, she says, “We want you to stay, Juni. You’re efficient at multitasking and personable on the phone and to coworkers. Our office never looked better, and you put care into everything you do. You’re special, and we would hate to lose you.”

  “Full-time employment?” That’s not what I expected when I came here, and I’m not sure how it makes me feel.

  “Yes. Is that something you’re interested in doing?”

  I thought I already knew the answer. That’s why I sent the ema
il. But now, hearing of the possibilities potentially changes things. My financial backing has allowed me to live life on my own terms and avoid getting involved in a job professionally. Dedicating my time and energy to professional pursuits did not turn out well once upon a time. When everyone counted on me most, I blew my chances at winning the grant my parents so desperately needed.

  That money would have supported their team to continue their work after their death, and I failed.

  Karl stepped up with my research in hand and won the judges over with my presentation. The worst part—I let him. I thought he was doing me a favor, helping me when I froze from the news I’d just been given. Instead, he shattered my heart more than it had already been broken.

  Anger courses through me, and when I look down, I’m fisting my hands. Karl was right. I am bitter. To this day, his actions made me leave a part of my heart on that stage that I’ve never been able to recover. I lost my passion for botany because of him, and I haven’t been the same since.

  I can’t fix the past, but with time and distance to the accident, I’ve learned nothing is worth sacrificing time with the ones you love—no job, no hobby, no passion. We get one chance at this life, and I want mine to matter.

  Is a new opportunity in line with that thinking, or is it finally time to put my past to bed? “Can I think about it?”

  “Yes, please do. And if you have questions, please ask. Joseph and I believe in you, Juni, and we think you’ll go far with Christiansen Wealth Management.”

  “Thank you.” I still haven’t fixed the issues surrounding my relationship with Andrew, so why am I even considering this job? With my hand on the knob, I look back. “I haven’t contacted the temp agency yet. I came to you first.”

  Laurie stands, pressing her fingertips to the glass-top desk. “I appreciate that.”

  “I’ll wait to contact them until after I make my decision.” She nods with a gentle smile. I walk out floating on cloud nine. My day has taken an unexpected turn for the better. Now it’s up to me to decide which way I want to go.

  Dark hair at two o’clock has me dropping to the floor. When I hear the voice— deep and sultry, commanding, and sexy—coming closer, I crawl into the nearest cubicle.