One Hot Winter

by Weston Parker

  “I understand that, and I’m happy you guys are all doing well. I really wish I’d never known there was a chance I could work for the company on a full-time basis. They canceled my freelance contract,” I wailed. “They paid out for the full week of work, but I was counting on a full month.”

  Donna was silent for several seconds. “You know Carter pretty well, right?”

  “Yes, I would say so. I mean, not really well, but as well as a person can after two weeks.”

  I wondered where she was going with this. I don't think knowing where a man liked to be kissed or what his favorite position in bed was what she was asking.

  “You do. I know you do, and so do I. He made a tough decision because he was doing what was best for the rest of us. Would you be able to fire me or Donavan? What about Jon whose wife just had twins,” she said in a soft tone. “His decision not to offer you the position was pure business. It wasn't personal.”

  “I think I know that. I mean, deep down, I know he did the right thing, but it stung. It hurt to hear he chose everyone else over me,” I said, biting back a sob.

  “I know, dear, but you have to think about the future as well. What if he chose not to keep you so he can have a relationship with you?”

  “Donna, I'm confused. Why did you call me? Are you acting on his behalf? I mean, whose side are you on here?”

  “Arianna, stop. You know I don't choose sides. I’m trying to help you see reason.”

  “You know what? I need to go. Thanks so much for calling,” I said and ended the call, not waiting to hear if she said anything else.

  I felt like a bitch, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to reason.

  My phone rang again. I assumed it was Donna calling back. My guilt about hanging up on her got the best of me, and I picked it up.

  “Hello,” I muttered, feeling a little ashamed and embarrassed for acting so childish.

  “Arianna,” my mother's voice rang out. “I thought you would be at work. I was going to leave you a voice mail. Are you on lunch?”

  I considered lying, but she would find out eventually. “No. I'm not working.”

  “Oh,” she said in that tone that reminded me of nails on a chalkboard.

  I didn't fall for the bait and give her the information she wanted but was too proud to ask.

  “What did you need, Mom?”

  “Can't I just call and say hi? Why do I need a reason to call my daughter?”

  I snorted. “You always have a reason, demand, or a complaint. I know I didn't do anything, so what's the reason?”

  “That's not true.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I heard her humph. “Anyway, can you please bring wine and pick up a cheesecake. Buy one. Don't attempt to make it yourself. We know how that will turn out,” she said in a snotty tone.

  I sighed. “It was one time. It isn't like you actually gave me cooking lessons when I was growing up.”

  “Oh, dear, I tried, but it was evident from the very beginning you were not born to be a cook. That's why you're so pretty. God had other plans for you,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  I bit back a very rude retort. She always saw me as a bubbleheaded girl who never lived up to her very high expectations. One mistake and she would never forget. Any little misstep I took in life was constantly thrown in my face.

  “Fine, I'll buy the cheesecake.”

  “And wine. Nothing in a box and nothing too cheap.”

  “Red?”

  “Oh God, no. It won't pair well with dinner, and I hate the stain it leaves on my teeth. White would be better.”

  “Fine. I have to go. I'll see you next week.”

  Before I could end the call, I heard my name. “Arianna, will you be bringing a date?”

  “No.”

  I ended the call and shut off my ringer. I didn't want to talk to anyone else. The day was going to hell very quickly. One more phone call and I would lose my shit. I opened my laptop and updated my availability to open on my website. Now, I just needed to wait for the first call. While I rarely had to wait long, the jobs weren't always quite as lucrative as Jacob and Sons. They were on my blacklist. I would never work for Carter and his people again.

  Chapter 16

  Carter

  It had been a very busy couple of days, made more difficult because I had to take over the copywriting. It was my own fault. I had chosen to let Arianna go. Technically, it would have been easier to consolidate the jobs of some of the assistants. That would have left my time free to take care of managing the department, but it would have meant one of those hardworking people out there would be out of a job the week before Christmas.

  I knew the cuts weren't finished. It was a given I would have to cut more employees, but I would deal with that when it came time.

  “Sir?” my secretary was at the door.

  “Yes?”

  “I took care of those last few emails and sent out the memo to the team wishing them a Merry Christmas. If that's all you had for me, I'm going to leave now,” she said as if she was afraid of my response.

  “Leave?” I asked.

  “Um, yeah, you approved my vacation. I'm off tomorrow until the following Monday. Remember?”

  “Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so late. Thank you, Cindy. Have a good vacation,” I told her.

  The project we had been working diligently on, the one that Arianna had been a part of, was wrapping up. The client was very happy with the progress and how fast we got it done. He had nothing but great things to say about it. I knew Arianna deserved a lot of that praise.

  “Bye, Mr. Frasier,” she said.

  “Goodbye.” I held up a hand and waved.

  I figured I better make an appearance in the office. I had been holed up in here the last three days. My lunch had been delivered, and I came in before everyone else arrived and stayed until well after everyone had left for the day. I had a lot of work on my plate. The stress of the Arianna situation was making it difficult for me to concentrate.

  The rumors had been flying since the night of the Christmas party. Arianna's exit had not gone unnoticed. I had heard the talk. People assumed I had cheated on her. Others assumed I fired her because she was threatening a sexual harassment lawsuit. I refused to acknowledge the rumors. The people who mattered knew, including Donna. She was a good employee and never caved in to the urge to add her information to the situation. I knew she and Arianna had been friends for a long time, which gave me an idea.

  I walked through the office, shaking hands and wishing people well, congratulating everyone on a job well done and passing along the client’s thanks for working so hard to get the project done ahead of schedule.

  Tomorrow, we would drop down to a skeleton crew with only a handful of people coming in. The rest were using their sick days or vacation time to get a jump on the holidays. This was a time of year when things slowed down, so it made the most sense.

  Donna was sitting at her desk. She was my real target.

  “Hi,” I greeted her.

  She looked a little startled to see me.

  “Hi, yourself. Are you leaving for the day? Is everything okay?”

  I shrugged. “Not yet, and yes, everything is fine.”

  “Oh. Are you sure?”

  I questioned her with my eyes.

  “Are you sure everything is fine? You're looking a little rough if I'm being honest.”

  “Oh, it's just this project and putting in extra hours. Little stressed, but I'll be okay.”

  She nodded but didn't look convinced. “You need to take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

  “I will. Uh, Donna, I know you and Arianna are friends. Have you spoken to her at all?”

  She looked at me and smiled. “I have.”

  “How is she?” I asked, eager for any tidbit of information about the woman who had captured my heart and then ran away from me. I felt desperate. I knew I sounded desperate, which normally would have made me want to slap myself,
but I didn't care at the moment. I trusted Donna to keep my condition to herself.

  “Oh, I think it would be better if you asked her that yourself. I am not going to be the go-between for the two of you.”

  “Donna, I would ask her if she would answer my calls,” I said in frustration.

  She shook her head. “That would be too easy. You hurt her feelings. Women like grand gestures. Groveling isn't enough, and I don't think she’s the type to care a lot about the words, ironically enough. She needs a gesture. You need to show her you’re serious.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I can't. I mean, I don't know what to do.”

  “Well, I can't tell you what to do. That would make it less grand. It has to come from you. From your heart,” she said with a grin. “You're a creative guy. You know her well enough. Follow your heart.”

  I groaned. I had no idea what to do to make her talk to me or even listen. Actually, she didn't have to talk. I wanted her to listen to what I had to say. I knew she was a sensible woman. She would understand my reasons for making her my choice to be cut from the crew. She would have to agree. I knew there was no way she would want someone like Donna to lose their job.

  “Mr. Frasier?”

  I smirked. “Please, call me Carter. You know more about my love life than I do at the moment. I think that puts us on a first name basis.”

  “Okay, Carter, I am going to tell you something and you better not tell her I told you.”

  I nodded, leaning in, excited for anything she could tell me. “What?” I tried to disguise my eagerness.

  “I think she loves you or, at the very least, cares about you far more than she thought she would or could. That is what has thrown her for such a loop. It isn't that she didn't get the job. It's the fact you chose to let her go and didn't tell her. I would suspect she feels like you threw her out the door like yesterday's garbage.”

  “No! It was nothing like that!”

  “I know that. You know that, but does she know that?”

  It was like a curtain had been lifted. I knew Arianna would have been hurt, but I assumed it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Donna was smart and very intuitive, and I felt very fortunate to know her.

  “Is this the secret to your long marriage?” I asked.

  She chuckled. “Damn straight. When my husband screws up, he knows jewelry isn't going to do it. I want something special that tells me he is truly sorry for being a pig.”

  I laughed. “I didn't think I was a pig, but I guess I should operate under the assumption she thinks I am.”

  Donna winked. “Good plan.”

  “Thank you, Donna. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Carter.”

  I headed back into my office. As I walked, I tried to think of something that would make Arianna listen to me. I couldn't think of anything grand. I just wanted to see her.

  I quickly left the office, jumped in my car, and started driving toward her apartment. I wasn't a complete imbecile and stopped at the florist first and picked up a bouquet of gorgeous flowers in a variety of reds and whites.

  I took a few deep breaths, giving myself the courage I needed to beg for forgiveness. It was not my style. I didn't beg. Most people did what I wanted simply because I demanded it.

  I pushed the buzzer to her apartment and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Arianna, it's me. I want to talk.”

  “Go away.”

  “No. Open the door.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  I took a deep breath. “You don't have to talk. Just listen.”

  “Carter, go away. I want nothing to do with you.”

  I fought back the urge to pummel the stupid box. She was an incredibly stubborn woman. I knew that, and usually, I liked that but not now. Right now, I wanted her to open the damn door, so I could see her and talk to her face-to-face.

  I slammed my finger on the buzzer again.

  No answer.

  I pushed again and again. I wasn't going to give up. Not on this woman. She was worth fighting for. Worth making a complete fool of myself outside her building on a very cold December night.

  “Arianna!” I shouted at the sky, hoping she could hear me inside her apartment.

  The woman didn't know how determined I could be. I wasn't going to go away.

  Chapter 17

  Arianna

  The buzzer sounded again. I considered ripping it off the wall but thought better of it. I wasn't typically prone to violent tendencies, but he was bringing it out in me. He was relentless. I should have known he wouldn't take no for an answer. The man was used to getting what he wanted.

  “Arianna!” his voice screeched through the intercom, making me jump back a little.

  This was why I needed to live in a building with a doorman. My mom had lectured me endlessly about the safety a doorman added, but I’d told her the cost was too much. Then, it always turned into a lecture about my lack of a steady job and me not living up to my full earning potential. And from there, it always spiraled into the lecture about me being single and needing the safety of a doorman. It was always the same old song and dance. I was not perfect. She was.

  In that very moment, I had to agree with my mom, although I would never admit it if pressed. If I had a doorman, this would never happen. His ass would have been hauled to jail by now instead of pressing that damn buzzer over and over. It felt like my nerves were being scraped over a cheese grater. I thought about taking the bat I stashed in the closet and waving it around in front of the glass doors to scare him off.

  “Go away!” I shouted through the intercom.

  “No!”

  I growled and slammed my finger on the button. “Stop pushing the damn button!”

  “Open the door, and I won't have to,” he said in such a calm voice, it shocked me into being quiet. “Let me in. It's freezing out here, and I don't have a coat on.”

  “Whose fault is that?” I shot back.

  I stood staring at the intercom pad for several minutes. He had sounded so reasonable. I hoped to God there was nobody walking by outside. That would be terribly embarrassing. Not that they would know who I was, but he was embarrassing himself. He obviously didn't care. The man clearly had no shame.

  Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

  “Argh!” I yelled at the ceiling.

  “Stop!” I practically screamed through the intercom. “I don't want to talk to you. Please, go home!”

  “No.”

  It was said in a calm voice as if he was telling me he didn't want cream with his coffee. It was laughable. Hysterical, really. If I was a witness to this, I would be very entertained.

  Dammit, why was he being so stubborn? This was like something out of a romantic comedy. I was Julia Roberts, and he was my Hugh Grant. It was really sweet, and if I were the girl in the rom-com, I would, of course, let him in, and we would live happily ever after.

  Unfortunately, this was real life, and things weren't so neat and tidy. I was impressed by his heroics, but I was still pissed. Hurt and pissed. I still couldn't believe he had chosen to fire me. I mean I got it, but he could have been honest from the get-go. Instead, he had conveniently forgotten to mention he had been the one to make the decision. It hadn't been some higher-up. It had been him.

  His simple omission put me on guard. If I were to go into a relationship with him, could I trust him? I was naturally skeptical and maybe a little jaded, but Carter had me in full defense mode. What if a woman kissed him, or what if he had lunch with another woman? If I didn't know, I wouldn't know to ask. I would assume he was being faithful, which could end up hurting me.

  It was silly to think that way, but I had been burned in the past. Carter was a devastatingly handsome, successful man. There had to be women lined up around the block who wanted him. I knew people saw me as beautiful, but would I be enough to keep Carter happy and satisfied? It was all of those insecurities creeping up. I blamed my mother. She was constantly reminding me
I wasn't quite good enough, and I could be better. I knew she said the things out of love to push me harder, but good God, a little congratulations every once and a while wouldn't kill her.

  Buzz!