by Jolie Day
After two years working in the tiny, poorly lit office, she was beginning to think about making a change. The sole reason she hadn’t acted on that urge yet was Gabriel Miles himself. He was a multi-millionaire who had made his own way in life. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he usually got it. He had a winning smile and a determined air that Meredith hoped to emulate one day. She had a lot to learn from him if she was ever going to become a successful entrepreneur herself.
Although he had a brash way about him and was often hard on his employees, Gabe more than made up for his aggressive personality with irresistible good looks and rakish sex appeal. Miles was the kind of man who could show up at a business convention and have three different women dropping key cards discretely into his coat pocket within an hour’s time. It didn’t matter so much that he wasn’t terribly nice, Meredith thought, not when he was so terribly nice to look at.
It also didn’t hurt that he was charming and witty with a rebellious streak that somehow only served to enhance his allure. When he wasn’t busy managing investments and starting new businesses, he liked to let off steam by going for long rides on his touring bike, a custom orange and black Harley Davidson complete with state of the art sound system and chrome detail. It was fast and mean, just like Gabe, and it made a pleasing and raucous rumble whenever he fired it up. Meredith caught herself more than once daydreaming about what it’d be like on the back of Gabe’s sweet ride. She’d never experienced the joy of motorcycle riding, but it seemed like it would be pretty cool.
She wondered if Gabriel had ever been with a woman of her size and figured the answer was almost certainly not. It’s too bad, she thought. He didn’t know what he was missing. But he was the type of guy who dated only thin, beautiful model types, and Meredith certainly wasn’t that. Although she was neither petite nor thin, she was quite stylish and liked to wear tailored, professional-looking outfits. They were more flattering on her larger frame than some of the Bohemian chic styles that girls her age typically wore, and they made her feel sophisticated and polished.
A happy little sound effect signaled that Meredith had just made a particularly advantageous move. She sat up straight, stretched her arms over her head and yawned broadly before leaning back in her chair. She was just considering what she was going to do with the remainder of her morning when she heard the familiar thunder of Gabe Miles’ Harley rumbling into the parking lot. Instinctively she bounced over to the window and split the blinds with her fingers so she could catch a glimpse of his dismount.
He cut the engine and removed his helmet, revealing his stylishly mussed brown hair and goatee, which were nicely set off by a pair of aviator sunglasses and a black leather jacket. He stood up and swung his leg over the back of the bike, locking his helmet into place on the back. The move turned him around so she got a good view from the back. His jeans were relaxed and faded, and he filled them out nicely, she noticed.
“Ooh-wee! Mmm!” Meredith said approvingly before heading back to her desk. She giggled mischievously and wheeled herself around to face her computer screen. She closed the game she’d been playing and picked up her phone, scrolling through her notes to find Gabe’s messages. As he came breezing through the front door, she got up and shadowed him into his office. He didn’t seem to be in the mood, though, and put his hand up beside his face as if to hide from her.
“I’m not really here,” he said as he rummaged through his desk drawers. “I’m at the Small Business Conference all day. Just stopped off to gra—”
“Katie from the lunch stand called,” Meredith interjected, paying no heed to her boss’ dismissive air. “She said the bread delivery never came.”
He paused, and then looked at her incredulously.
“What? Did you call the bakery?”
“Yes, and they said they didn’t get an order this week.”
Gabe grabbed a handful of business cards and tucked them into his cardholder.
“OK,” he said absentmindedly. “Fix it.” And with that, he started out of the office.
“What — fix it?” said Meredith. “How am I supposed to fix it?”
He stopped with his back to her. Without even turning around he said condescendingly, “They need bread. You take them some bread. Problem solved.” He glided out the doorway without so much as a goodbye.
“Have a nice day,” Meredith said gloomily to the door as it slammed shut.
She grumbled under her breath as she called to find out what bread she should buy.
“Miles to Go, Katie speaking. We’re open at eleven,” she said informatively.
“Katie, it’s Meredith.”
“Oh, hi Meredith.”
“He said I should just pick some up and run it over to you. What kind do you need and how much?”
Meredith took Katie’s bread order and forwarded all office phone calls to her cell before heading out. She swung by the closest bakery on her way downtown, selecting a marble rye, two whole-wheat loaves and a 12-grain loaf as well as a dozen ciabatta rolls. By the time she got to the lunch stand, Katie was already explaining their bread situation to an impatient customer.
“I’ve got a baguette and some sourdough,” she offered helpfully. When she saw Meredith come through the door, she exhaled heavily, “Ah, the cavalry’s here!” She quickly crossed the length of the counter and ushered the loaves into their proper places on the sandwich line, then turned her attention back to taking her customer’s order.
“Thank you,” Katie mouthed at Meredith as she slipped out the door. She gave Katie a smile in response and strolled back to her car, considering which of her own errands she might like to run now that she was out of the office. After all, there was no point returning to work if Gabriel was going to be at that conference the rest of the day.
She’d just made it out of downtown traffic and was about to get on the freeway ramp when a blue Honda came out of nowhere, clipped her right rear fender and sent her spiraling across the road. The world turned in swooshes around Meredith’s head as her silver Prius spun out onto the grassy median. The friction between tires and grass might have stopped her safely if the vehicle hadn’t had quite so much momentum. As it was, the passenger side wheels lifted up off the ground, and Meredith went skidding backward along the grass, the driver’s side door and its tiny airbag the only buffer between her body and the raw, mangled earth below.
As the Prius slowly came to a stop, the car inexplicably fell back onto its wheels, bouncing so hard as it landed that Meredith hit her head on the ceiling. The air slowly hissed out of the airbags as she sat momentarily stunned. Then she checked her arms and chest for wounds and turned the rearview mirror so she could see her face. There were some scratches on her arms and she could tell she was bruised, but other than that, she seemed to be all right. She wiggled her toes just to be sure, and then unbuckled her seatbelt.
The blue Honda seemed to have suffered an even worse fate than the Prius, Meredith observed as she shakily stepped out. Its right front end was badly damaged from the impact, and the windshield was punctured, caved in, and etched with a million cracks stretching out in a sunburst pattern across its surface. The driver’s door was severely dented and the window itself was gone. Meredith rushed over and found the driver, a barely conscious young man, holding a bloody arm over his stomach.
“Oh my God, are you OK?” Meredith leaned through the gaping hole that had been his window and was shocked by what she saw. The man appeared to be bleeding badly from his torso, although it was impossible to say where exactly, due to the amount of blood that had already stained his blue t-shirt. His eyes and mouth were open, but he didn’t seem to comprehend his situation. He looked down at his chest.
“Oh, shit,” said the man. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, Meredith thought, horrified at the gruesome sight of his glossy blood, which seemed to be pooling in places and had begun to saturate his khaki shorts. “Here,” he said, grabbing a manila envelope from the dashboard and shoving it into her han
ds. He tapped it a few times as he said, “Take this…here.”
Meredith looked down at the package. It was blank except for a return address.
Brisbaine Transport
12875 Industrial Drive
Farleigh, IN 46325
The man tapped again. “Give it to him…” he said, tapping the name.
“Give it to who? You mean the owner?” Meredith asked. The boy relaxed when she’d understood his meaning. He let his arm fall and slumped farther down in his seat.
“I’ll call 9-1-1,” she said, trying to reassure him. She wanted to give him the hope he needed to hold on. She needed to believe it wasn’t already too late.
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About the Author
Jolie Day’s favorite genre to write in is Romance, more specifically BBW romance stories, both contemporary and thriller/mystery. She lives in Miami, FL with her boyfriend and their golden retriever, Rosie. She enjoys snorkeling and water sports. When she is not writing her romance stories, she can be found on the beach reading and spending time with friends and family.
Jolie’s passion for reading extended to writing at a young age. After graduating high school she attended the University of Miami and majored in Journalism. After college she has worked as an editor for a few small publications, but is currently working full time as a freelance writer.
Visit her author page on Amazon for other stories. To visit her Facebook page click here.
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Copyright © Jolie Day
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are completely fiction and are in no way meant to represent real people or places.
Warning: The author’s stories contain mature themes and language. They are intended to be enjoyed by an 18+ audience only.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
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First Edition December, 2015
Updated March 15th, 2016
