Catastrophe Queen
Page 9
Me: Do you need me to sort your desk out?
Cameron: Is that an offer to remove all my ex’s shit from my office?
Me: When did you break up?
Cameron: 18 months.
Me: It’s not an offer. I’m going to sort your desk out so hard tomorrow. That is ridiculous.
Cameron: All right, all right. I officially put you in charge of sorting out my office. Bring your rubber gloves.
Me: Is it that bad? Should I stop by the store for cleaning supplies?
Cameron: No, but we might be out of milk…
Me: Milk and rubber gloves, then.
Cameron: Now that’s work talk.
Me: I’ll even answer the phones in between.
Cameron: Carry on.
Me: I’ll pour you coffee and call you Mr. Reid.
Cameron: Is it too early in this working relationship to say that was kind of professionally hot?
I laughed, dropping back onto my bed so my head bounced off my pillow.
Me: Maybe. Maybe not. Who has to get breakfast from the deli tomorrow?
Cameron: …I want to say me.
Me: No. Totally not too early. What time can I expect you?
Cameron: Oy.
Me: Oy?
Cameron: One half of ‘oy vey.’ It’s when you’re too professionally hot for me to finish a sentence.
Me: It might be too early for a line like that.
Cameron: Alrighty then. I’ll be in just after you at nine.
Me: I like cream cheese bagels with ham and coffee and cinnamon rolls.
Cameron: It’s too early in this professional relationship for you to demand things.
Me: Next time you’re in and Cynthia Carlton calls, I’m patching her right through.
Cameron: Cream cheese bagels with ham and coffee and cinnamon rolls it is.
Me: Hahahaha.
Cameron: I’ll make sure there’s a lid firmly on your coffee so it doesn’t explode everywhere this time.
I stared at my phone screen. He was my boss, but what a smartass fuck he was.
Me: Next time I’ll spill it on you. And it won’t be an accident.
Cameron: I don’t keep spare pants at the office.
Me: Why do I need to know that?
Cameron: Casey once brought Tilly to the office and there was a vomiting incident. She needed to know.
Me: I’m not a newborn likely to vomit on you.
Cameron: You just threatened to toss coffee on my pants. I thought you should know so we don’t find ourselves in a position where I’m wandering around in my underpants.
Me: …Bring extra pants.
Cameron: I’m not three. I don’t need extra pants.
Me: Ok. So I need to buy extra pants. What size are you?
Cameron: This is entirely too personal.
Me: Does Casey know?
Cameron: 34 waist and as long as possible in the leg.
Me: I’ll bring the pants and you bring the breakfast, and I’ll sort out your entire desk.
Cameron: Can you leave your best friend at home this time? I’m not a steak, and she looked at me like a T-Rex eyeing up a triceratops.
Me: Science says a T-Rex wouldn’t attack a lone triceratops. Horns and all that.
Cameron: How do you know that?
Me: Netflix.
Cameron: I don’t know how to respond that.
Me: Cream cheese bagel with ham and coffee and a cinnamon roll.
Cameron: If you don’t show up tomorrow wearing rubber gloves, I’m not handing over your breakfast.
Me: If we weren’t mere days into this I’d threaten to show up in a lot less than rubber gloves.
Cameron: …I don’t think it’s safe for you to wander around in your underwear.
Me: Me either. So I’ll see you in rubber gloves with milk in my hand.
Cameron: And I’ll bring you breakfast and coffee… with a lid.
Me: Ha. Ha. Ha.
Cameron: See you tomorrow, Mallory.
Me: See you tomorrow, Cameron.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – MALLORY
I pulled the offensively yellow rubber gloves from my purse as I headed up the stairs. They were seriously uncomfortable to wear, but a deal was a deal, and I was really in the mood for a cinnamon roll.
The tension had still been rife at home this morning before I’d left, and I’d taken an extra long shower this morning to avoid having to spend time with my family, save for the kiss I’d dropped on my mom’s cheek before I’d left.
I couldn’t believe they were barely talking to each other because of one text message.
I snapped the second glove on and scanned the office. I’d waited until now because I hadn’t wanted anyone to see me wearing them—I was pretty sure my colleagues downstairs already thought I was a little weird. There was no need for them to have that idea totally confirmed.
Cameron wasn’t here yet, so I set my purse behind my desk and shrugged off my blazer. It was warm as hell in here, and it only took me ten seconds to decide to lean over and let some cooler outside air in.
The window swung open far faster than I thought it would, sending a gust of air hurtling in and knocking a stack of papers off my desk. I stopped, legs as far apart as I could get them thanks to my dress, with my arms out, one toward the fallen papers and the other toward the window.
The phone made my decision for me.
I snatched it up. “Good morning, you’ve reached Cameron’s Reid’s office at Reid Real Estate. Mallory speaking, how can I help you?”
“Good morning. I’m interested in the property you have on Canyon Close. Would I be able to arrange a viewing for this week?”
“Absolutely,” I said, dropping to the chair and grinding my teeth as another gust came in the window and scattered the papers across the office even further. “Let me open the diary and see what Mr. Reid has available. Do you have a particular day you’d prefer? Times?”
I rested the phone between my ear and shoulder and simultaneously reached for the window and the diary.
“Wednesday, during school hours.”
“Right, okay. Two seconds please.”
The damn window wouldn’t shut. Stupid old fixtures.
I yanked on it as hard as I could while also flipping the diary pages and trying desperately not to drop the phone. I finally got to Wednesday on the calendar, quietly thanking the powers that be that I knew this property because I was the one who’d put it on the website two days ago.
The powers that be obviously thought I was a fucking smug idiot because right then, the phone slipped.
Reflexively, I caught it, trying not to exhale with relief.
Unfortunately, I was no longer alone.
Cameron was here, complete with coffee and a white paper bag that smelled like heaven, and he was silently laughing his ass off at me.
I gritted my teeth and motioned to the window. “Mr. Reid has an opening at eleven o’clock. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely,” said the voice on the end of the phone.
“I’ll just need your name and details, and your email address if you’d like me to send you directions to the property.”
Cameron set down the bag and coffees and slipped behind my desk. His fingers brushed my upper back as he scooted past me to handle the stupid window.
I busied myself by gathering their details and read their email address back to them before hanging up and dropping my head to the desk.
“What’s this? Hurricane Mallory blowing through the office?”
“Ha ha ha,” I muttered, sitting back up and spinning to look at the closed window. “How did you—what?”
“Shut the window? Yeah, that one’s awkward. I’m shocked Casey didn’t tell you. Open the one on the left instead. The hinges on the other one get stuck all the time, and I’ve just never gotten around to getting someone in to fix it.” He dropped his eyes to my hands. “Nice gloves.”
“I told you I’d wear them.” I got up and knelt to th
e floor to gather up the papers the wind had thrown everywhere.
Cameron stepped over me to get the ones out of my reach and put them on top of the pile. “And I got breakfast.” He pointed to the bag. “Here’s your coffee.”
“Thank you.” I took it from him and sipped as he emptied out the food.
“How did you get those gloves in here? Did you wear them all the way here?”
“Yes. I decided that was the final nail in the coffin of my sanity, and if I was lucky enough, I might just get picked up,” I said in a dry tone. “No. I put them in my purse and put them on when I got up here.”
“Damn. You strolling through Main Street wearing heels and rubber gloves was a sight I was hoping to see.”
My stomach fluttered at that even though I knew he was teasing me. “Yeah, well keep dreaming.”
He handed me a bagel and winked. “I will. Any messages?”
“Nope, but there was already a bite on the house on Canyon Close. They’re looking at it on Wednesday.”
“That’s the new one right?”
“Yeah. We listed it two days ago.” I turned on my computer as he set down a cinnamon roll. “It’s the one with the old brick façade and the double garage—”
“But only one drive.” He snorted. “I remember now. Can you check if there are any permissions needed to extend the driveway? I know everyone is going to ask.”
I nodded. “Where do I check that? The Mayor’s office?”
“I have the number somewhere. I’ll dig it out for you.” He pulled one of the waiting chairs over to my desk and sat down.
I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he pulled out a smoked salmon bagel and bit into it. “So now we share breakfast?”
He laughed, almost choking on his food. He banged his fist against his chest a couple of times, and a couple of crumbs spilled from his lower lip and over the dark stubble of his jaw to his lap.
He washed a cough away with a mouthful of coffee. “Yes. But, if you notice, I’m far enough away from the coffee in case Hurricane Mallory picks up again.”
I pursed my lips and shot him my best glare. “Hurricane Mallory? Really? Is that what we’re going with?”
“Do you have a preferred way to describe your…quirky…nature?”
“I don’t like it described any way, but if you ask Jade, I’m either a hot mess, a walking disaster, or a catastrophe queen.”
“Catastrophe queen.” His lips twitched. “Now there’s a way to describe you. Do you have a crown?”
“I think I need to look for a new job.”
Cameron laughed, dropping his head back.
Damn. His neck was sexy. Just enough muscle and there was a vein that went up the side that looked really kiss—
Wait. No.
Bad Mallory.
“I’m just teasing you. I think I’ll stick to Hurricane Mallory. It’s accurate enough.”
Sadly, it was. Where I went, disaster tended to follow.
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your parents literally give you a name that means ‘unfortunate.’” I pulled my bagel from the bag and tore it in two. “I was never going to be a ballerina, was I?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s what your name means?”
“Yeah. I’ve spent a long time wondering if that was how they felt about me, but apparently, my dad has a mild obsession with Mount Everest. He was fascinated by some English guy who climbed it and disappeared until his body was found years later. Mallory was his surname.” I shrugged. “If I were a boy, I’d have been George, after his first name.”
“Interesting namesake. Usually, it’s a book character or movie star.”
“Oh, yeah. It gets the conversation going at parties.” I laughed. “Bit strange, but whatever. It was a weird coincidence that Mallory means ‘unfortunate’ and that’s pretty much what I am.”
He chewed thoughtfully. “I still prefer Hurricane Mallory. That explains the mess of papers on the floor when I walked in. I don’t know what describes why you’re still wearing those gloves.” He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Shit.” I tugged them off. “Thank God they were new.”
His laughter bounced off the walls.
I tossed the gloves in the trashcan behind me and sighed. “See? That’s about right for my life.”
“All right. Maybe there is a slight unfortunateness to you, but it’s weirdly endearing. I’m almost looking forward to what mess you’re going to cause next.”
“That’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever been given.”
He mock bowed from his seated position and picked up his coffee. “You’re welcome. What’s on my schedule today?”
We broke from the friendly banter to run through his schedule which included one phone call with the accountant, another with his lawyer about an upcoming buy, two viewings, and not a lot else. After finishing our breakfast and him telling me about two new rental properties that were being photographed over the weekend to go up on Monday, Cameron gathered all the trash from our breakfast and stood up.
And knocked his half-full coffee off the edge of my desk.
I didn’t even try to hide my grin as he jumped back to avoid being splashed. He did, but only just, and I laughed as he looked at me and sighed.
“That’s karma, isn’t it?”
I nodded my head, turned around, and grabbed the rubber gloves from the trash. “You might need these.”
***
“Good afternoon, you’ve reached Cameron’s Reid’s office at Reid Real Estate. Mallory speaking, how can I help you?” I flicked hair from my eyes and held the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I finished typing an email to the attorney’s office.
“Mallory! Is Cameron available?” asked an extremely unfamiliar voice.
I felt like I should know who this was.
“I’m afraid he’s out of the office right now. Can I take a message?”
The sigh was massive and should have given away the identity of the caller before she said it. “Yes. Can you tell him his mother called? Again?”
Oh, shitballs.
“Oh, Mrs. Reid, hi. Absolutely. Should I ask him to call you back?”
“Darling, you can ask him to, but that doesn’t mean he will.” She tutted, and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. “Can you pass along a reminder about the mixer tomorrow night at the house? It’s imperative that he attends because of his father’s future partnership. It should allow us to open an office in Denver.”
“Absolutely. Let me write that down for you.”
“Seven p.m., but he should arrive at six. His timekeeping skills outside of work are so terrible that he’ll likely show up a day late to his own funeral.”
This time, I smiled, writing down the times. “I assume he should wear a suit?”
“Darling, have you seen him wear anything else?”
“No, ma’am, but I’ve only seen him at work.” I laughed slightly. “I’ve written that down, and I’ll be sure to pass the message on when he gets back to the office.”
“Thank you, Mallory.” She paused slightly. “Would you like to come? I haven’t been able to get into town and I hear such good things about you. I’d love to meet you.”
“Oh, well—”
“I understand it’s incredibly short notice, and I apologize, but I know Cameron thinks highly of you and it would be great to have you there.”
Whoa. Back up. Back up. Back up.
I was not a person to have at a formal mixer.
I was barely a person to have at a slumber party.
Me. In heels. A fancy dress. Around rich people. Business people. Formally.
Hell. To. The. No.
That was the quickest way to get me fired, let me tell you. I wasn’t even allowed to use a straightening iron in my bedroom anymore. I had to use my mom’s because that was how much I was trusted, and I was a grown-ass woman… who had every reason not to be trusted with a flat iron, but I digress.
“I—” Apparently had no words. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Reid. It’s a lovely offer—”
“Great!” she said brightly, and I swear I heard her clap. “We’ll see you tomorrow night!”
“I—”
The line went dead.
Slowly, I pulled the phone from its cradled position on my shoulder and stared at it.
What the hell had just happened? Cameron might call me Hurricane Mallory, but his mom was a freakin’ tornado. I hadn’t agreed to go to this fancy mixer tomorrow, but apparently, I was, and I was to go there early to meet his parents and family and act like I knew what the hell to do around people who had more cash in their wallet than I did in my bank account.
In somewhat of a daze, I grabbed my phone and pulled up Cameron’s last message to me.
Me: Sir, we have a problem.
Then, I fired one off to Jade.
Me: I just spoke to Cameron’s mom on the phone and now I have to go to a fancy mixer tomorrow night.
Unlike Cameron who was at a house, Jade’s response vis phone call was swift, telling me she was between clients.
“Are you gonna bone him after?” Was her opening line.