by Natalie Rios
Yeah, probably because me sitting here staring off into space makes me look like I’m one bird short of a cuckoo’s nest.
“Hey, Mina,” I sheepishly answer, wondering if word had gotten around about my firing yet. Mr. Connors doesn’t strike me as the gossiping type, but this is me we’re talking about. Everything I do seems to make it into the headlines.
“Are you okay?”
“Eh, been better.”
Her eyes turn kind as she fiddles with the ends of her short, asymmetrically cut bob. “Rough first day?”
“Oh, yeah. In sum, Brody Connors is an asshole and I may or may not have been fired.”
Mina laughs. “Well, the asshole part is true. Very few would disagree with you on that. But the fired part I find hard to believe.”
“Really? Even with his rep of being impossible and going through assistants like that?” I snap my fingers for emphasis.
Pursing her lips, Mina shrugs. “Brody’s never fired any of them. All of his previous office assistants quit. Even the really awful ones who should have been fired. I don’t think Brody likes to fire people.”
Interesting. Filing away this new information for later analysis, I briefly study Mina. She’s wearing a black t-shirt with the resort’s logo imprinted in white and has her white chef’s jacket slung over her arm, leading me to suspect she just ended her shift at the café.
Beautiful in an exotic way, she has almond-shaped eyes and a dainty nose. Whisky-colored eyes contrast her jet-black hair, with a smattering of freckles dusting her upper cheeks. Long legs and broad shoulders give her a bit more of an athletic build than me, but we’re still about the same height. Age wise, she looks like she could be a recent college-grad.
“So,” I start. “I guess we’re roomies.”
“Looks like. Along with Fallon. Have you met her yet?”
“Nope.” The Connors brothers haven’t introduced me to anyone. With the exception of Kyle, rudeness seems to run in the family.
“Would you like to meet her?”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Fallon!” Mina shouts across the grassy field before us. The girl has some lungs on her, that’s for sure. “Check out our new roommate!”
A girl runs across the field towards us and the closer she gets, all I can think is damn. Fallon is tiny. Barely five feet tall and weighing no more than ninety pounds soaking wet, I can probably stomp this chick with a pair of my Jimmy Choos.
Once she’s standing in front of us, beaming a smile that flashes a single dimple on her left cheek, I have to admit she’s a little cutie. Large green eyes instantly draw you in and the bronze tan along her face and arms indicate she spends quite a bit of time under the sun. No way is that color from a bottle or a tanning bed. And with her short blonde hair dyed in rainbow of pastels at the tips, she reminds me of a pixie. Kind of like a hipster version of Tinkerbell.
There must be something in the water in Maine. How else do you explain all of these ridiculously beautiful people running about?
“Hi Charlotte! Kyle’s told me so much about you. We’re really excited for you to move in with us!” Fallon’s bubbling with genuine enthusiasm, the kind that doesn’t seem fake or put on. Actually, it feels kind of welcoming.
Turning my smile up a notch, I stick a hand out for her to shake. And she actually takes it. Never again will I take a firm handshake for granted. “Good to meet you. I’ve never had a roommate before, so there might be a bit of a learning curve on my end.”
Or a huge one, since according to my own brother I’m inconsiderate.
“No worries! Mina and I are pretty easy to get along with. Only rule at our house is to keep the noise level to a minimum after 10pm. We both have to get up early for work,” Fallon explains.
I can live with that. “Fine by me. I have to wake up early, too. Mr. Connors needs his 7am coffee.”
Fallon snickers while Mina shakes her head. “I thought you said you were fired?”
“What!” Fallon screeches. “Brody wouldn’t! Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
“No. It was just wishful thinking on my part. He never said the words so I’m planning to show up tomorrow and see how it goes.”
Just shoot me now. Even the thought of having to face him again has my cheeks burning.
“Wait. I’m confused. What happened?” Fallon asks.
“I need a drink before I can retell it. Several drinks, in fact. That man can turn a nun into an alcoholic.” And trust me when I say I’m no nun.
“That bad?” They both shoot me sympathetic looks and Mina even gives my shoulder a squeeze.
“I’ve nicknamed him Satan. When I think of hell, I will forever envision Brody Connors waiting for me at the gates with a huge scowl on his face, demanding I bring him his afternoon coffee.” Mina actually starts howling, laughing so hard she needs to wipe tears from her eyes. Fallon, on the other hand, is cringing so hard I’m worried her face might stay that way. “What’s wrong?”
“Now’s probably not the best time to mention it, but Brody’s my brother,” Fallon says. Fucking hell. And I just compared her brother to the devil.
“Foot in mouth moment,” I groan. “Okay, how many Connors siblings are there? Seriously, I need to know if any more are going to pop up and surprise me.”
“Nope. Brody, Tanner, Kyle, and Fallon. Just us four, in that order.”
“Mina, you’re not a cousin or ex-girlfriend, are you?”
“No and god no!” Appearing horrified at the thought, Mina vigorously shakes her head. Hmm...Methinks the lady doth protest too much. “Dating Brody would be like sacrificing myself for mankind. Only to be done if we are the last two people on the planet and the fate of the human race depends on us.”
I study Fallon’s face for a reaction to that, but she seems to agree with Mina’s assessment.
“I’m sorry, Fallon. Your brother’s just...” I’m not sure how to finish that sentence without possibly offending her even more.
“Don’t worry about it. I know Brody can be a total ass sometimes. How about we go to the resort’s bar and you tell us about your first day over drinks? Then we can call Kyle to help move your stuff over to the house.”
Sounds like a solid plan to me.
We spend the walk over discussing Fallon’s job. She and Tanner are both activity coordinators for the resort. They set up hiking and biking tours during the warmer months as well as skiing and snowboarding during the winter. Once a day, they serve as guides for groups interested in doing some of the harder trails. It sounds like a lot of physical, outdoorsy stuff and I’m surprised Fallon doesn’t look more athletic. You would think all that hiking would leave her with some Serena Williams’ level thighs, AKA powerful and intimidating as hell.
Seriously, do you think Serena Williams’ opponents take one look at her and just say fuck it? That they’re so demoralized and put out by her physical appearance, they give up before they even try?
Though maybe Fallon’s small frame is in advantage in this regard. If I paid for a hiking tour and showed up to find my guide looked like Serena or Holly Holm, I would immediately start saying some prayers because I know I’m going to die somewhere along the trail. But tiny little Fallon? She’d have me thinking I’m about to make this mountain my bitch.
At the bar, I order a rum and coke only to swear under my breath when the bartender rattles off the total. Duh, Charlotte. Things cost money. Money you no longer have. “I, uh, haven’t been paid yet-”
“Hey, Matt,” Fallon cuts in. “This is Charlotte, Brody’s new assistant.”
“Really?” Eyes widening, Matt leans over, resting his elbows on the counter. “You survived day one. Drinks are on me.”
“Thanks.” Humiliating crisis averted.
“So, spill. You have an audience of eager listeners,” Fallon gestures to herself, Mina, and Matt. Guess he’s joining us. Fair enough. He’s supplying the liquor, so.
Shrugging, I launch into my recitation for the second tim
e in one day. There are several gasps and laughs, but the general consensus is that Mr. Connors is an ass. No one seems surprised by my lack of skills, which makes me wonder exactly what the brothers have been saying about me. It’s not like I shared all that much about myself in the first place. Leaving the tabloids as their main source of information.
“I can’t believe he’s making you call him Mr. Connors!” Fallon fumes. “No one else has to, including his former assistants.”
“We’re not so formal around here,” Mina agrees. So it is just me. Great. Day one and I’m already being singled out.
“The coffee thing is a classic though. Wish you would gotten that on video,” Matt muses. “I’d pay to see Brody spit out his drink.”
“Mr. Connors,” Fallon and I correct simultaneously. We all laugh.
“You’ve got to learn to make coffee, though. Trust me, it will make your life so much easier if he has his caffeine fix. Caffeine withdrawal makes my brother really cranky.”
“Ugh, I tried! Those instructions are ridiculously complicated. How many fluid ounces are there in a cup anyway?”
“Um, eight.” Mina shoots me an incredulous look. “You’ve seriously never made coffee before?”
“No. When I want coffee, I go to a Starbucks and pay a barista to mix me a skinny vanilla latte. There’s a Starbucks on practically every corner in New York.”
“Well, welcome to Bar Harbor.” Fallon clinks her glass against mine. “We don’t have a single Starbucks in town, I’m afraid.”
“Great.” I frown into my glass. Just where the hell do the resort guests get their coffee from? They can’t all be brewing it in their rooms. “Wait. Does the café serve coffee?”
“Yeah!” Catching on, Mina claps with excitement. “My shift starts at six. Swing by the café on your way to work and flag me down. I’ll ready a cup for him.”
“Three times a day though?” Shaking her head, Fallon orders us another round. “That’s an easy fix in the morning, but the afternoon runs could be difficult if Brody expects her to attend all of his meetings.”
Mina shakes her head. “Text me for the midmorning one. If I can’t get it to you, I’ll send a cup over with Kyle or Tanner. You’re on your own for the late afternoon one though.”
“I can help,” Matt offers. “I don’t start working until happy hour on weekdays. Could probably use a cup myself most days anyway. Problem solved.”
“One down, only ninety-eight to go,” I mutter.
“What else? Maybe we can help.”
Studying the three faces before me, I have to admit they do seem genuinely interested in helping me. Though I’m not sure why.
Actually, Matt isn’t that hard to guess. Pure lust. Whenever he looks at me, I swear that bowchickawowow soundtrack starts playing. But he looks young, at least ten years younger than me. Baby faces just don’t do it for me.
But these other two? I don’t know what their deal is.
“Why do you want to help me? Especially you, Fallon. Shouldn’t you be on your brother’s side?”
Rolling her eyes, Fallon huffs out a breath. “I know what Brody’s like. Besides, I’m on both your sides. You might not see it now, but you two need each other. I’m serious,” she insists when I shake my head. “Brody’s Mr. Impossible. An attitude adjustment is sorely needed. And you need this job. It’s a tough market out there and I think you’ll fit in here. It’s a good starter place. Learn the ropes and move on later, if you want. You and Brody can learn from each other.”
Yeah, right. Satan thinks my parents bought my way into Yale. He would never lower himself to admit I have anything to contribute. Or that I know something he doesn’t. But I’m stuck with him for now and these people are offering me their help.
Kensington Family Rule: Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Going back to other things you can help with...He kept making weird comments about my outfit.”
“What outfit?” Mina asks just as Fallon says, “What sort of weird comments?”
“Well, he said I didn’t know how to dress in proper work attire.”
“Were you wearing that dress?” Matt gestures with his index finger. At my nod, he snorts. “Oh, man. Should have recorded that reaction, too!”
“Charlotte, you are aware that’s a cocktail dress, right?” Mina gently asks.
“Duh. I wore this to a gala before.” I’m quite familiar with cocktail and formal attire, thank you very much. Mina and Fallon exchange a look that has me feeling defensive. “Look, I didn’t exactly plan to come out here to work. I thought I was going on vacation and literally stumbled upon this job. All I packed were some t-shirts, shorts, and a couple of dresses. This was the nicest thing in my suitcase.”
“Phew.” Fallon wipes a nonexistent bead of sweat from her forehead. “For a second there, I thought you considered this to be appropriate office clothing. Mina and I will help you.”
Mina nods. “Fallon’s clothes won’t fit you, but mine might. You can borrow some of my things until you get paid.”
Borrowing clothes and sharing a house with two strangers. Is this real life?
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Any chance we could try moving in now? I don’t have a lot of stuff, but I need to come up with a game plan for tomorrow.” Facing Satan’s going to be a nightmare.
“Sure. Let’s call Kyle and we’ll help you.” We say our goodbyes to Matt, who flashes me a charming smile. Bowchickawowow. I’ll definitely have to tread carefully with that one.
Several hours later, I’m all settled in at the house. It’s really more of a cozy cottage. There are three bedrooms, which means I have my own room at least. But there are only two bathrooms, so I’m sharing one with Mina.
Since we forgot to eat at the bar, Mina whips us up some fabulous spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Turns out, she’s the café’s sous chef. Having a roommate who can cook will definitely come in handy.
Mina and Fallon are both younger than me, with Mina at twenty-two and Fallon the baby having just turned twenty-one. Gah. I’m ten years older than her. I’m ten years older than her and she’s got her life way more put together than I do at the moment.
All three of us are single, though I suspect I’m the only one holding the status by choice. Fallon claims she knows too much about the local guys to be interested in any of them and Mina’s face takes on a grim expression I’m not sure how to interpret. Both offer to help set me up with someone.
Hard pass. The most attractive man I’ve met in Bar Harbor so far is Mr. Connors and I can’t even get him to call me Charlotte so...
I bid them both goodnight before taking a shower and getting ready to plot.
My bedroom is nice, albeit small. Reminds me of the dorm room I had my freshman year, actually. Painted yellow, the room is bright and cheery. A double sized bed sits in the corner furthest from the windows and there’s a small desk on the opposite wall. Clean white sheets and an ocean of pillows fill the bed.
That’s it as far as the room’s contents. No TV or dresser, just a small closet in the corner by the entrance.
Fine for now. Laying on the bed, I boot up my Macbook Pro. Agenda for the night: figure out how to retain my sanity while working for Satan. This is war and I’m not about to go into battle tomorrow unarmed.
Get ready, Mr. Connors.
Chapter Six
I’m exhausted. Spending the entire night looking up office protocol meant coming into work with a headache and dark circles under my eyes. But I’m also prepared, carrying two cups of coffee from the café and donning a crisp white button down shirt and black pencil skirt I borrowed from Mina. I even arrive early because no way in hell am I about to give Satan the satisfaction of beating me here.
At 7am on the dot, Mr. Connors strolls into the office. Looking down at the cell phone in his hand, he does a double take as he passes by my desk. Actually freezes just as he’s reaching to unlock his office door.
“Good morning, Mr. Connors,” I say in a fak
e-sweet voice. “Your 7am coffee is waiting for you on your desk.”
He ignores my statement. “You’re back.” Voice laced with shock, he shakes his head in disbelief. Asshole. He hadn’t expected me to return. I guess I shouldn’t be too pissed off since, last time we saw each other, I hadn’t expected me to be back either.
A fact I will never admit to him, of course.
“Why wouldn’t I be back?” My words are a challenge, daring him to question my presence any further.
“Why wouldn’t you, indeed,” he murmurs. “Well, since you’re here, we might as well get started by reviewing my schedule for the day.”
“Certainly, Mr. Connors.” I follow him into his office. A few awkward moments of silence pass as I sit across from him and he stares at the cup of coffee and blueberry muffin I left for him on his desk. The muffin had been a whim, a last ditch attempt to get us on good terms and have this be a brand new chapter in our relationship. A peace offering, if you will.
Motherfucker picks up the muffin and tosses it in the trash, without so much as taking one small nibble. That one action seals his fate in my book.
Game on.
Opening the lid on the coffee cup, he cautiously sniffs the contents. “Did you make this?”
“No,” I curtly reply. It’s in a fucking paper cup with the resort’s logo on it. Did he think I brewed a pot and then ran over to the café to steal a container? “It’s from the café.”
“Ah, so it’s safe.” Asshole.
“You lived through the batch I made yesterday.”
“Pot. Coffee is brewed in pots, not batches,” he corrects, suddenly turning into the grammar police. “And I only lived because I took one sip. My stomach can survive that.”
Silence descends then, with me trying hard not to lay into him and him just staring at me expectantly. But he was the one who called me in here, so I have no idea what he wants me to say. All I can do is patiently wait him out.
Eventually, he cracks and cocks a brow at me. “Miss Kensington, you’ve forgotten something already.”
