Written on Her Heart

by Paige Rion

  “Grrr.” Andi grabbed her hair at the roots and pulled. What was he not getting? “When are you going to stop being my father and start being my partner? My boyfriend? I need your support right now.”

  “I’m just being realistic,” he said, his voice rising. “You need a backup plan. What if you get published but you’re never a bestseller? Your head is so far up in the damn clouds you don’t even know how to get back down again.”

  Heat sliced through her. She sat, unable to move as his words radiated in waves through her body, each sentence hurting worse than the last. She knew this would be hard for him to accept, but this … His reaction…

  “Thanks for your faith in me.” She stood and bent down to retrieve her clothes.

  What the hell was his problem? He had no right to say these things to her. His intentions meant nothing right now because he’d hurt her too much.

  “I start tomorrow. I guess I shouldn’t call you to tell you how it goes.” She pulled on her pants and bra, then tugged her shirt down over her head and left, wishing all the while, he would stop her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gravel crunched under the tires of Andi’s car. Rocks pinged the dingy blue paint, as she sped down the driveway and slammed on her brakes in front of the double garage. Clutching her purse, she jumped out of the car and kicked the door shut behind her. She clicked over the walkway, stepping as fast as she could in her four-inch heels, cursing their impracticality the entire way.

  She reached the door and glanced at her watch. Over an hour late. Dammit. She was always on time. How could this have happened? How? On one of the most important day of her life?

  Peter, that was how. Why couldn’t he just wait until later to see her? Did he really have to show up at her place this morning?

  Andi grit her teeth and began to open the door, then stopped herself. Does she just go in or knock? She paused, contemplating her options, finding it hard to think over the static in her head. This was her place of employment, but it was also Ford’s home for the summer. Unsure of the correct protocol, she stood with her fist suspended in air.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” she mumbled to herself. The longer she stood there, the later she would be.

  She rapped her fist against the door and waited. A voice crackled from nowhere. Andi jumped, then searched for the source of the sound until she spotted a small intercom on the upper right hand corner of the door.

  “Who is it?” the voice asked.

  “It’s Andi Callaway,” she said, wondering if there was a button to push or something. A second later, the door buzzed and the voice returned, this time clearer. “Come in.”

  Andi opened the door and stepped inside. She felt strange entering alone, not knowing exactly where to go, but she recognized the waiting room where the applicants had convened before being put through to Ford. She moved past the room, then down the hall toward the offices. She paused in front of the same French doors she’d had trouble entering just days ago. But she had no time for nerves today, no time to dawdle, because she was already late enough. She swung open one of the heavy doors and stepped into the office space.

  Andi moved toward the desks at the back of the room and halted. She sucked in a breath. “Rachel?”

  The smile on Rachel’s face faded. Andi hadn’t seen her since the interview, but she had been dying to tell both her and Carma that she got the job.

  She fought the urge to rub her eyes to see if Rachel would still be there afterward. Was this a joke? Deja vu?

  “What are you doing here?” Andi asked.

  The door to Ford’s office opened and his assistant emerged. Andi pointed to Rachel and met the assistant’s icy gaze. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Look who decided to show up.” The assistant crossed her arms. “We thought you weren’t coming.”

  Andi’s pulse raced. She took in Rachel’s tight dress and scooped neckline. “I don’t understand. Why would you think I wasn’t coming?”

  She couldn’t think through the haze of her thoughts. Processing the fact that Rachel was there when the job was supposed to be hers took all her concentration.

  The assistant glanced at her watch. “Because it’s just after ten, and you were supposed to be here at nine.”

  “Okay, but why is she here?”

  “We called her in a few minutes ago when you didn’t show and I couldn’t reach you by phone. Rachel was more than happy to come down here on short notice.”

  Shit. Andi glanced down at her purse and closed her eyes. She’d left her phone in the house because Peter kept calling. He had been on her doorstep, waiting. Once she got him to leave, she had been in such a hurry, she hadn’t wanted to waste even a minute more by running inside to call.

  Andi stepped forward. “I know it’s unacceptable, my being late. But I’m here now. And I’m ready to work.”

  She couldn’t lose this job, not on account of Peter and her shitty car, which had flooded and stalled after she’d finally gotten Peter to leave. This was her chance. Next to becoming a published author herself, this was her dream job. She couldn’t lose it, especially not to Rachel because she wanted to be a damned trophy wife.

  Stepping forward, she met the assistant’s gaze straight on. “There was a reason—”

  “You’re late. Save it.” The assistant raised a hand to stop her. “I’m not the one you have to explain it to. After I buzzed you in, I asked Ford what he wanted to do. He said he wanted to talk to you.” She turned to Rachel. “I believe that’s all we need from you today, Miss Beaumont. You can go, but I’m sure we’ll be in touch. We appreciate your willingness to work.” She glared at Andi, who put her head down.

  Rachel nodded. “I’ll be here.” She moved next to Andi and paused, her smile tight. “Good luck. I’m here if you drop the ball,” she whispered.

  Andi drew in a sharp breath and watched her leave. Never before had she wanted to hurt her best friend, but she found herself imagining grabbing a fistful of that pretty blond hair.

  “Go in,” the assistant said. She was sitting at her desk now, scribbling on a piece of paper. She glanced up when Andi hesitated, and smirked. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Andi’s insides tangled into a mass of nerves at the thought of facing Ford, but the last thing she needed was the assistant to know how rattled she was. Opening the massive doors to Ford’s office, Andi steeled herself and stepped inside.

  He sat at his desk, with his forehead in his hands. A notebook sat open in front of him, and he glanced up at the soft thud of the door closing. “You’re here.”

  He set his pen down and closed the notebook in front of him. “After the other night I thought maybe…” His voice went soft and he searched her face. “I was wondering if you weren’t going to show up. When you were so late, I figured you weren’t coming.” He paused and watched her.

  Andi flushed, remembering the way he had touched her face and how close they had come to kissing. She stepped forward to address his concerns, but what could she say? “So you thought you’d just give the job to Rachel?” She bit her tongue the moment she said it, knowing it was the wrong thing. It wasn’t her place to question him. He was her employer and she hadn’t even worked a day for him yet.

  “Do you think you’re irreplaceable?” He smirked.

  Andi blushed further. “That’s not what I—”

  “A million people would want this job. Half of this town was trying to get an interview. Yet I chose you.”

  His eyes held hers, drawing her to him. Though she knew he was referring to the job only, his words struck her and she found it hard to speak. She took a step forward to explain herself, but before she could, he cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “If you’re going to work for me, maybe we need to lay some ground rules. I need to know that, if anything, you’re reliable, which means being here on time. If I tell you to do something or be a certain place, I expect it.”

  Andi stiffened at the change in demeanor and shrunk ba
ck against the wall. If she had thought they had some special bond, she had been mistaken.

  “There will be slow days when you have down time, but the fact that this isn’t a rigid nine to five job doesn’t mean you can do whatever you please.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, her tone professional. “It won’t happen again. I had an unexpected complication. My boy—” Andi snapped her mouth shut at his warning glare. He didn’t want to hear about her relationship problems, and sharing them was inappropriate.

  Standing there now, she wondered if it hadn’t been Peter’s intention to make her late. Forcing herself to focus, she met Ford’s gaze and listened.

  “When my office door is closed, you’re not to bother me unless I’m expecting something from you. Otherwise, whatever it is can wait. I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m writing. Also, you’ll be answering the phone. Because no one really knows my whereabouts, there shouldn’t be too many calls, but my publisher and agent have the number, among one or two others. Regardless, no phone calls are to be put directly through to me. Got that?”

  Andi nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He leaned forward in his chair and picked up his pen. “For now, I want you to write down everything you told me about the mill, every story you know. Call your father and see if there’s anything else. Do research if it’s needed. I want the full history. You can type it up and give it to me later today.”

  “Is that all, Mr. Delaney?” Andi asked, feeling the rise of heat in her cheeks.

  He raised a brow at her, the corners of his mouth curled at the formality. “Yes, Miss Callaway.”

  Andi turned on her heel, needing to get out of there. Flinging open the doors, she hurried to her desk and sunk into the chair. She buried her head in her hands.

  What had she expected from him? Did she think they would be friends?

  She supposed she was lucky he didn’t just fire her after being late on the first day. She was disposable, after all. She needed to prove herself to him, not give him reasons to doubt her commitment or her work ethic.

  Things had gone so well last Friday. At the mill, he’d confided in her. He’d seemed … vulnerable, almost. So, yes, maybe she was under the misguided impression that they could be friends. He’d spoken to her like one, but she must’ve been wrong. Either that or she’d ruined any chance of a friendship by screwing up so soon.

  Moisture pooled in her eyes and she scolded herself. Why was she so upset? Because she’d almost lost her job to Rachel? Because she’d felt like a child in there?

  Andi shook her head and sat up. What had gotten into her? She was being ridiculous. A completely professional relationship was best. Especially in light of their almost-kiss at the mill.

  “Suck it up, Callaway,” she muttered. With her best attempt at a smile, she glanced up at the assistant, who stared at her from across the room.

  “Oh, good. You’re done sulking. Now I can show you around so we both can get on with our day.”

  #

  The assistant led Andi down a different hall off the office area and into a large sitting room with plush sofas, several leather chairs and a stone fireplace. Without pausing, they continued into a huge kitchen. Antique white cabinets covered the space, along with a large, granite-covered island in the middle of the room.

  The assistant pointed to the far end of the counter. “The coffeepot’s over there. You can help yourself throughout the day, but if you drink the last cup, it’s your job to make fresh. Ford likes to drink it at all hours, especially if he’s writing, and he gets nasty if he finds it empty.”

  Andi pictured Ford, his eyes soft, staring into hers in the darkness of the mill, the sorrow in his voice as he spoke about his situation. She couldn’t imagine him getting “nasty,” though he certainly hadn’t been friendly just minutes ago.

  She closed her eyes and cleared her head. This was a job. Period. She wasn’t there to be his friend.

  The assistant continued to move around the kitchen, pointing at things and explaining them, oblivious to Andi’s distraction. She paused at the refrigerator. “There’s water and soda in there. You can help yourself. Any food is probably mine. Ford doesn’t cook. Most of his meals are takeout. You can keep whatever you want in the fridge.”

  She barely looked at Andi as she made her way out of the kitchen and back down the hall. “Bathroom’s this last room off the hall. And this way, as you know, leads to the offices.” They approached the French doors, but before they entered, the assistant spun around to face Andi.

  “Listen, here’s the deal. There may not be any hard and fast rules here, but following orders isn’t an option. So if Ford tells you, for example, to be here at nine, be here at nine. Got it?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “I don’t care for your explanations. And I don’t care that you think you’re going to just swoop in here and replace me.”

  Andi narrowed her eyes. “I never—”

  “Just remember, I’ve been here from the beginning. I’m the one who’s helped get him to where he is. And once all this media attention dies down, he’ll have no use for you.” She tugged on the bottom of her suit jacket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do. I have Ford’s blog post to type up, a press release to take care of, and a call back to Oprah.”

  Andi’s mouth dropped. Oprah?

  Focus.

  She reached out and put a hand on the assistant’s arm before she could turn away. “You’re not going to intimidate me.” Andi steadied her voice. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was a pushover. “I earned this job. I’ll be good at it and I’ll prove myself useful. There’s no reason why we both can’t work here amicably.”

  The assistant glared down at Andi’s hand, pushed it off and wiped at her sleeve.

  “And while we’re working together,” Andi said. “It would be helpful to know your name. That is, unless you want me to go around calling you The Assistant.” She smirked as the assistant narrowed her eyes and scowled.

  “I’m Ms. Perry to you.” Her gaze moved over Andi, her lip curling.

  Andi crossed her arms as if she could hide her clothes. Suddenly, her plain dress and the 1960s blazer didn’t seem adequate, not compared to Ms. Perry’s tailored suit. She made a mental note to go shopping.

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Ms. Perry said. “No visitors here. Not ever.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Humph.” Ms. Perry’s mouth tightened before she turned and entered the office.

  “Ugh. It’s going to be a long day,” Andi muttered and followed her.

  #

  Andi threw the folder on her desk with a sigh at the exact moment Ford left his office. Great. She’d probably get another lecture.

  She plopped down in her chair without glancing up, but she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He stood off to the side, watching her.

  Andi had suffered several hours of snide remarks and scornful glares from Ms. Perry. She had just about met her limit of feeling unwanted in the office. The thick air had begun to eat at her and she craved a reprieve.

  Shaking her computer mouse, she refreshed the screen. She’d finished her research on the mill, turning up a few new stories and adding detail and personal anecdotes, but she wasn’t about to ask Ford if he wanted the information. She would wait until he asked, especially after being told not to interrupt him.

  Remembering Ford’s presence, she glanced up and locked eyes with him, but shifted her gaze before he could say anything and busied herself on the computer. She went to her e-mail and logged in. Until he gave her a new task, she may as well e-mail Rachel and Carma, even if she was annoyed with Rachel for nearly snatching away her job.

  She opened her in-box and scanned through the new e-mails—nothing important. Moving her mouse over the compose button, she began to type.

  To: beaumontbeauty@outlook.com

  carma2121@broadband.net

  Subject: I kick ass! />
  Hey girls,

  Guess where I’m at? Well, Rachel you already know, but don’t think you’re going to steal the job away from me so easily. Competition or not, I hope we’re still on for tonight. The cove is waiting and I need my best friends. I’ll bring the refreshments. You bring the idle gossip.

  Andi bit the inside of her cheek, then signed the e-mail.

  Hugs,

  Andi Callaway

  Assistant to bestselling author Ford Delaney.

  I may as well have fun with this. Smiling, she hit send and glanced at her watch—three o’clock. Maybe she should go to lunch? After her tardiness, she wasn’t going to take one, but now she reconsidered, since she had nothing to work on.

  She glanced up from her desk and her eyes widened when she saw Ford walking toward her, two cups of coffee in hand. She tried not to stare, tried not to notice the graceful way he moved, his strong hands or the way his sandy hair looked—as though he had been running his hands through it all morning.

  She tried to hide her eyes as he approached, as if she could care less about his presence. When he stopped in front of her, he extended one of the mugs and cleared his throat.

  Andi blinked up at him, saying nothing.

  “For you,” he said.

  She hesitated but reached for the mug. Cringing at the thought of having to drink a bitter cup of black coffee, she peeked at the contents and realized the dark liquid had been tempered with cream. She lifted her eyes to his and raised her brows.

  Ford cleared his throat. “I, uh, saw your half-empty mug earlier, when you left the office for the bathroom.”

  Interesting. He was playing coffee detective and watching when she left her desk? Should she be flattered or creeped out?

  Lifting the mug to her lips, she noticed he had gotten her a delicate rose-patterned teacup, while he drank from a heavy, plain mug. Taking a tentative sip, she suppressed a smile. The coffee had been sweetened with a touch of sugar, exactly how she took it, and she wondered if he had actually tasted her coffee before he murmured, “I guessed at the sugar.” He twisted his own mug in his hands, then took a sip.