by Natalie Rios
So I’m standing there, awkwardly shuffling my feet as the bored cashier gestures for me to get on with it.
“Um, I left my purse in the car. Do you think I could-”
“I told you fifteen minutes,” an annoyed voice says from behind me. “It’s been almost an hour.” Of course, Satan’s come searching for me.
Turning around, I plant my hands on my hips. “Excuse me, but I’ve never been in here before. I didn’t know what all I’d find in here or even where to begin to look.”
“The store’s not that big-”
“On top of that,” I continue right over him, “you didn’t give me any money to pay for this stuff. I was about to call you,” I lie.
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” the cashier pipes in. Crap. I completely forgot about her. “Hi, Brody.”
“Hi, Stella.” He smiles at her, though it’s not a real smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him really smile. He has this fake smile I think he uses when he’s secretly pissed off, but doesn’t want anyone to know about.
Yet another unfair gift bestowed upon him. If I tried that smile, I would look constipated. But on his hard face, it looks natural.
“How are things going over there?”
“Good. It’s summer so we get a lot of families on vacation this time of year. How is school?”
The Stella girl blushes, seemingly amazed Mr. Connors had remembered. Ugh. A textbook schoolgirl crush. “Really good, thanks for asking. Made the dean’s list last semester.”
Satan whistles. “Sweet and smart. Your parents must be real proud.” His words are delivered in an absent tone, like he’s just being polite. But Stella looks hopeful, naively interpreting his interest as flirting.
Annoyed, I jab a finger into Satan’s rock hard chest. Hello. The man must know his way around a bench press. “You still haven’t told me how I’m supposed to pay for this.”
Stella sends me a dirty look before returning her attention to Mr. Connors. “I can just charge it to the resort’s account.”
“Please do. Thank you, Stella,” he replies.
“So is this a new employee of yours?” Stella doesn’t even look at me, her adoring gaze focused solely on Satan. Either she’s completely misinterpreting our relationship or she’s one of those girls who sees another pretty girl and instantly feels intimidated. Who knows? Regardless, she’s being openly rude.
“I’m his new assistant,” I answer, forcing her to acknowledge my existence.
“Oh?” Stella’s nostrils flare and she cocks a brow at me. “Brody seems to go through a lot of those.” It’s a taunt, her way of letting me know my days are numbered.
“I wonder why that is? I mean, when you think about it, there’s only one common factor.” I plaster an innocent smile on my face and bat my eyes at Mr. Connors. Stella gasps at my implication, but Satan seems unfazed. Guess he’s gotten used to my barbs. Reaching for the bags, he bids Stella goodbye before leading the way back to the car.
“Did you get everything?” he asks while loading up the trunk.
“Nope. They were out of computer paper and one of the sales associates said they don’t sell the labels you want. You know,” I continue as I settle into the passenger seat, “you should really consider opening up an account with a larger merchant. Staples or Amazon or something. A lot of this stuff can be delivered next day for cheap with a business account and then you wouldn’t have an employee wasting time and gas driving around town.”
He sends me a hard look before pulling back onto the road. Stopping in front of a bookstore, he instructs me to get the missing items and have the cashier charge it to the resort’s account.
The bookstore is huge, with two stories full of shelves. It’s also packed and there isn’t a nice sales associate readily available to help me. Which means I’m going to be in here a lot longer than Satan will like.
Oh well!
After checking out, I’m just exiting when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning my head, I spot a large man I’ve never met before. Beefy looking, with broad shoulders and round face. Not exactly attractive, but not unattractive either.
“Hey, there. I saw you from across the store and you’re so darn pretty I just had to come over and introduce myself. I’m Neil.”
He holds out his hand and I hesitantly shake it. “Hi.” I don’t give him my name. Something about his gaze and smile makes me uncomfortable.
“Has anyone ever told you, you look just like Grace Kelly?”
Only every guy who’s ever hit on me. I do look a lot like Grace Kelly, especially when my hair is cut short and highlighted like it is now. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin and red lips. And like Grace, I can pretty much rock any style, from elegant pearls down to a leopard print one-piece.
Unfortunately for every guy who’s ever tried to hit on me, I absolutely hate the comparison. Not because I have anything against Grace Kelly. Au contraire, mon ami. I love Grace. She was gorgeous, classy, and a royal. What’s not to like? But you try being compared to her every other day. After thirty plus years, it’s just unoriginal. Come up with something better, then we’ll talk.
So I’m one minute into meeting this guy and I’m already not interested. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Continuing my way out, I pick up the pace so I can hopefully leave this guy in my dust.
Except, he doesn’t want to be left. “You sure are the prettiest girl in town. Maybe we could go out sometime. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t say, actually.” But this guy isn’t picking up on my subtle cues and he’s making me increasingly uncomfortable with the following.
“Where’s the fire, Grace?”
“I have to get back to work.” Just a few more feet to the car. Suddenly, I feel a tug on my arm. Neil is preventing me from moving any further. I don’t like the way he’s touching me, his fingers wrapped around my arm just a tad too tightly. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you at least tell me your name.” Flashbacks, flashbacks. Too many flashbacks. And I can feel it starting. My chest constricts, making my lungs feel like they are being squished. Focusing on my breathing, I don’t even notice Mr. Connors is there until I hear his voice.
“I believe she asked you to let go, Neil.”
Neil doesn’t loosen his grip, but he does flash Mr. Connors a smile. “Hey, Brody.”
“Now, Neil.” Words firm, Mr. Connors juts his chin to where Neil’s hand connects with my arm. “Let her go.”
“Grace and I were just getting to know each other.” He finally removes his hand and meets my gaze. “Weren’t we, Grace?”
Finally free, I’m not about to stand around and wait for this creep to push any more unwanted advances on me. That and I’m still having trouble breathing. Reaching for the passenger door, I escape into the car.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t realize she was with you,” I hear Neil say before I slam the door closed. Pressing one hand against my chest and the other against my stomach, I inhale through my nose. Pushing all the air back out, I exhale through my mouth. Closing my eyes, I start over.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
When I finally open my eyes, I realize the car is moving. Mr. Connors must have gotten back in the car and started driving at some point during my breathing exercises.
Pressing my face against the passenger window, I pretend to take in the scenery so I won’t be forced to explain what happened back there. Except there isn’t much to see. Walls of maple and birch line the side of the road, blocking any potential view.
After about ten minutes of seeing the same thing, I have to say something. “Are we taking the long way back? Because I don’t remember coming this way. And I could have sworn the drive into town was shorter.”
“It seemed like you needed some time,” he replies, voice quiet. “So I gave you some time.”
I wait for him to ask the inevitable questions: what happened? Why had Neil freaked me out so much? What’s wrong with me? But none came.
Huh. Look
s like Satan is capable of playing nice sometimes.
“Your big merchant idea,” he says. “I made the same suggestion years ago, but I was ignored.” Ignored? By who? Satan is not the type of man a person can ignore. His size and looks alone make me all too aware of him.
“Well, I really do think it’s a good idea. Time is money and you can get free shipping if you order over a certain amount. Just as long as you’re willing to wait a day or two for things to get here.”
His next words stun me. “I agree. I haven’t had the time to set up a merchant account and none of my previous assistants suggested it.” Likely because they were too intimidated to talk to him. All that growling and snapping is not for the faint of heart. “Consider it your pet project.”
Praise be! He agrees with me and I have a pet project. Baby steps, people!
The drive does wonders for my frazzled nerves. Well, that and my breathing exercises. Good to know those five years of therapy hadn’t been a complete waste.
We park and head back upstairs in silence and I’m hopeful. Hopeful Satan and I have turned over a new leaf. He’d stepped in when Neil made me uncomfortable and understood I needed space and time to recover from my mini panic attack. He’s trusting me with a pet project. Maybe this bad funk is finally over and –
“Since you seem to have plenty of time to write lengthy emails, I need you to color code and organize the financial records by date. They’re in that back cabinet,” he says the second we reach the office. “It needs to be done by 4pm today.”
Aaaaaand he’s back. Moment over.
Sighing, I get behind my desk and start working again. I have no idea how much time passes before a knock sounds at the door. Glancing up, I smile at Fallon. “Hey.”
“Hey! Did you take your lunch break yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Want to go with me to the café?”
“If the boss will let me.”
Fallon taps something on her phone. “He’s cool with it. Just asked him.”
“Okay.” I frown down at the landline on my desk. “I should do something about the phone before I leave. Although no one ever seems to call.” I try to think back to when the last phone call (that wasn’t from Mr. Connors) had come through. “Is it weird no one’s called since I’ve started here?”
Fallon appears startled. “Um, yeah. Very weird, actually. Especially with all the remodeling going on. The few times I covered the front desk, the phone definitely rang. Not like nonstop, but definitely at least two or three times an hour.”
From three times an hour to nothing all day. What the fuck? How does that happen?
“Could something be wrong with the line? Mr. Connors has called me a couple of times on it, but I guess the last time was a few days ago.”
“Mr. Connors,” Fallon snickers. “Still can’t believe he makes you call him that. Right.” She clears her throat at my un-amused expression. “Let me see something.” Coming around the desk, she checks out the base before picking up the receiver. “There’s a dial tone, but check this out.” Her index fingers taps the base’s screen. “The top line is your direct line. The bottom is the central number for Brody’s office. See what it says next to the central line?”
“FWD. What does that mean?”
“It means the calls are being forwarded somewhere. That would explain why Brody is able to call you, but no other calls are coming through.”
“Forwarded? But to who?”
“Who knows?” Fallon shrugs. “Might as well keep them forwarded for now since we’re heading to lunch anyway.” I grab my purse and lock up before following her out.
One thing I’ve learned about Fallon in the short time we’ve lived together is that she’s one of those chatty people. People who hate silence and feel a need to fill it with a never-ending stream of conversation. Actually, I guess it’s more of a dialogue since the other person doesn’t really need to respond. Fallon and I have gone entire stretches where all I do is hum or nod while she keeps on yammering.
I don’t mind it, though. Fallon’s a great person. Fun and bursting with energy. If her one flaw is that she talks too much, I can deal with it. Often times, there’s enough going on in my own head to drown her out.
Like today.
Mr. Connors has me completely confused. I’m used to him being an asshole, but today he actually showed signs of compassion. He gave me time and space when I was on the verge of a panic attack. And like icing on the cake, he didn’t ask any questions about it afterward.
Just when I thought I had him all figured out, he throws me a curve ball. Satan I can handle. I’ve been dealing with assholes like him since birth. But this new guy? This kind, understanding, patient guy who knows when not to push? That, I’ve never encountered before. Even my closest friends would have pried after the Neil episode while this stranger recognized exactly what I needed.
Who is this guy and what is his deal?
As if that isn’t enough, I have the stupid phone to worry about. Where the hell are the calls being forwarded to? Answering them is supposed to be my job, damn it. Here I am trying to prove everyone wrong by actually being able to handle a real, full-time job and one of my duties had already been taken away from me without my knowledge. I mean, who knows how long this has been going on?
We reach the café and order lunch, but I can’t stand it anymore. I have no idea what Fallon’s been talking about all this time, but I need to get to the bottom of the phone situation. She’s covered them before so there’s a chance she’ll at least be able to point me in the right direction.
“Where do you think the calls are being forwarded to?”
“Oh.” Blinking, Fallon, leans back against her chair. “Not sure. But there’s only one way to find out.” Retrieving her cell phone, she calls the office and places the call on speakerphone. Thankfully, the café isn’t in the full lunch swing, otherwise this whole thing would have been completely obnoxious.
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I listen as the line rings once, twice, three times – “Thank you for calling the Village by the Sea Inn and Resort. This is Brody speaking.”
“Brody?” Fallon asks, jaw hanging open in shock. I’m shocked too. But the shock is quickly replaced by anger. This asshole has all the calls forwarded to him because he doesn’t think I can handle them. What did he say on my first day? That I don’t know how to professionally answer a phone?
“Hey, Fallon. I thought you were having lunch with my assistant.” The fucker can’t even say my name on the phone with his own sister.
“I am.”
“So why are you calling me?”
“Um…” Panicking, Fallon looks to me for help. But I’m not feeling too helpful and the only thing I want to do is hang up on him, which is what I signal for her to do. She vigorously shakes her head “Oh! Um, I was checking to see if you wanted to join us.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. “And why would I want to do that?”
“Because…” Once again, she looks to me for help.
Once again, I signal for her to hang up.
“I can’t hang up on my brother!” she hisses.
“Who are you talking to, Fallon?” Satan drawls. I suspect he damn well knows who she’s talking to.
“No one!” she quickly replies. “Anyway, I was thinking Charlotte could help me plan the end of summer party.” Another pause. “You know, because she has so much experience with fancy galas and benefits and stuff.”
“Does she have experience planning these parties or just attending?”
Asshole. Though he happens to be right. I’ve attended my fair share of galas, but I’ve never planned one. Never even offered to help my cousin Ellie who hosts one every year for the charity she started with her ex-boyfriend, Elijah.
And I feel like shit thinking about it now because I really should have offered after they broke up. Things seem amicable between the two, but everyone knows Elijah’s still hung up on Ellie, a fact th
at must grate her husband Drew. I could have stepped in, run interference at the absolute least. But it had never occurred to me to offer.
I’m starting to realize how selfish I’d been in my previous life. But not anymore. Starting today, things are going to be different. Since Fallon and Mina are letting me live with them rent-free, the least I can do is help Fallon plan this party. I’ll figure out a way to repay Mina later.
I’d been so busy self-reflecting, I hadn’t even realized Fallon had taken the call off speakerphone. She’s now actively arguing with her brother over me.
“And another thing, I think it’s ridiculous you make her call you Mr. Connors. No one else on payroll has to do that and singling her out is harassment! Yeah, well, get over yourself!” Hanging up, she lets out a huge breath. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why he’s being so rude to you. He’s not usually like this.”
“Really? Because rumor has it he goes through assistants like Hogwarts goes through Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.”
Fallon chuckles. “Didn’t realize you were a Harry Potter fan.”
I shrug. I’m not embarrassed to admit I’m a Potterhead. “It’s only one of the greatest book and movie series of our generation. NBD. What’s his deal, anyway?”
“Who, Harry Potter?”
“No, the devil.”
“Voldemort?” Jesus Christ. Though I guess this misunderstanding is my fault for introducing Potter Mania in the first place.
“No, your brother.”
“Brody?” Her face pinches. “He’s always been a bit high-strung, though I guess it’s gotten worse since he took over the resort after our parents died.”
Damn. I didn’t even know their parents were dead. I reach out to squeeze her hand just as our food arrives. “I’m sorry.”
She squeezes back before reaching for her burger. “It hit Brody harder than the rest of us. After he graduated from business school, Dad and Brody got into an epic fight about how to run the resort. Brody wanted to implement some stuff he learned at school and Dad was more traditional. Things got nasty for a while, with both of them saying the most awful things to each other. Brody eventually left and took a job at a ski resort in Switzerland. The next time we saw him was at the funeral.”
