by Robyn Neeley
“Well, it looks like no one goes hungry.” He pointed to the assortment of muffins and donuts on the countertop.
Becca smiled. “We have a lot of fun baking for each other. Let’s just say there’s always something to satisfy any craving you have.”
He gulped at the thought of satisfying the craving he was having lately for the woman standing in front of him. Needing to get that desire out of his mind, he walked over to the kitchenette and picked up a blueberry muffin, bringing it to his mouth.
“Stop.” She snatched it out of his hands. “Don’t eat that.”
“Why?”
She lowered her voice. “Miguel in shipping brings them every Monday. His mom makes them for him, but the woman is ninety years old and nearly blind. I guarantee there are things in that muffin you wouldn’t want to ingest.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He set the muffin down.
“We usually toss them after he leaves to deliver the guac. He’s such a sweet guy. We don’t want to hurt his feelings.” She handed him a small silver key and a white apron. “So this is the key to your locker.” She pointed to the row of white lockers. “Yours is number twenty-four. If you’d like to change, the men’s room is outside and to the left.”
“I didn’t bring anything to change into. Is this shirt not okay?”
“You’ll need to lose the hat. Your clothes are fine except for those.” She pointed down to his boots.
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t taking them off. Not that he didn’t want to ditch them, but it’d taken him forever this morning to squeeze into them—they were staying on. “I don’t have another pair.”
“Hmmm … It’s okay for today, but you’ll want to wear work shoes with rubber soles. Like mine.” She took off her shoe and flipped it over. “It can get slippery around the floor. We work fast here, Coop, and those boots are definitely going to slow you down.”
“No problem. I’ll nix them.” Little did she know how happy that made him. She was right. He remembered wearing sneakers with rubber soles here in high school, although he’d been glad enough to ditch those Converse gym shoes for real leather loafers when he’d moved over to corporate.
“Good.” She put on a white smock and pulled her hair into a plastic cap. He didn’t think it was possible, but Becca made even her unsexy uniform hot.
“Okay, follow me.”
“I’m all yours.”
She looked behind him, her face quizzical.
“I mean, lead the way.” He probably shouldn’t flirt with his boss on the first day.
They stepped into the production floor, and Tangie came strolling over to them.
“Hey, boss. You’re back.”
Becca ducked into her office and came out with a clipboard. “Yes, and this is Coop Jackson. Coop, Tangie Walker.”
“Nice to meet you, Tangie.”
“Likewise.”
“Coop’s first day is today.” She lowered her voice and said something to Tangie that he didn’t quite catch but thought he heard the words “Chuck’s replacement.”
The pretty blonde smiled coyly. “Welcome to Guac Olé, Coop. I’ll see you around.” She winked and brushed by him, close enough that her apron touched his hand.
“See you.” He might have to watch out for that one.
Becca took a few minutes to show Grayson the various areas of the plant. He had to admit, while he knew the inner workings of the factory, there was something cool, almost exhilarating, in seeing it all come to life.
He pointed to the barrels filled with dark, ripe avocados. “Is that where the magic begins?”
She laughed. “Something like that. We hand-peel all of our avocados. It’s one of my favorite parts of the job.”
“Why’s that?”
She reached in and grabbed an avocado, squeezing it gently. “It’s the heart of this place. I was reminded of that this morning.”
Really. By whom? Was there another man inspiring her? Maybe one of the guys on the floor?
Becca placed the avocado back. “I usually like to start my new employees at the peeling station, but it does tend to get slippery, so we’re going to do things a bit backward.” She stopped in front of a long machine belt and greeted an old man who, judging by the deep creases in his face, should be retiring any day now.
“Franco, this is Coop Jackson. Coop, this is Franco Martinez. He’ll show you the ropes.”
“Good deal. Nice to meet you, Franco.”
Franco extended his hand. “Hola. Nice to meet you.”
“It’s Coop’s first day, and I thought we’d start him out with you on the line.” Becca tapped on her clipboard. “Ready for a banner day, Franco?”
“Si, señorita.” He patted Grayson on the back. “Don’t worry, Coop, we’ll go easy on you.”
Becca looked him squarely in the eye. “Okay, you are in good hands with Franco. Lunch is at noon. I’ll check in on you this afternoon.”
And just like that, Becca crossed the floor, leaving him standing there in boots that were pinching his toes and a smock that looked stupid. He hadn’t considered that he might not actually spend a lot of time with her in this new role.
Well, maybe he’d see her at lunch. He pulled the top of his apron with his thumbs. If Grandpa here could work the line, Grayson shouldn’t have a problem. “So, Franco. How long have you been working at Guac Olé?”
“Forty years in February.”
“Wow, that long?” He felt a twinge of guilt that he’d never met this man who would be celebrating such a milestone anniversary with the company next year.
“Si. I was a young chap when I started. It’s hard work, but it’s an honest paycheck and the people here are nice. Becca’s a great boss.”
“Glad to hear it. So, can I ask you a question? You must be retirement age, why not retire?”
“And leave all this?” he kidded and took off his glasses for a second. “My wife is having some health problems. She had a stroke last year and her plan under my insurance only covers half the bills. I need to keep working as long as I can to make up the difference.”
“How much are you in debt?”
“A little over fifty grand. I’ll probably die before it’s paid off, but I have to try.”
Grayson just stared at the man. He’d been the one who’d recommended to his dad five years ago that they pull the plug on fully covering health insurance for employee spouses. The research at the time had shown that big companies were following this trend, so they’d given their employees the option to switch to a lower cost plan for spouses. “I’m sorry we don’t do more.” He paused, correcting himself, “I mean, the company doesn’t do more.”
“It’s okay. We do what we can.” Franco pointed in the direction of Becca’s office. “I’m grateful she keeps me around. There are a lot of guys half my age she could hire for this jo—” A loud machine drowned him out and the belts started moving. “Okay, son. Here’s what we’re going to do. In two minutes, the tubs are going to come down that conveyer belt. We lid them and store them in these bins. The guys who do deliveries will start picking them up. Easy.”
Thirty minutes later, Grayson stepped back and wiped the sweat off his brow. Easy, my ass. He didn’t sweat this much during his normal runs. The pace was killing him. Just when he thought he’d caught up, the tubs kept coming and coming.
A sympathetic Franco took him off the line for a while, having him help the guys who loaded the trucks. It was heavy lifting, but at least he could keep up. He spent most of the afternoon there, but by 4 p.m. it was time to go back to his station and close containers for the evening shipment.
He glanced down at his cowboy boots. His feet were freakin’ killing him. He’d sent Meg a quick text asking where he could pick up some work shoes, and she told him she’d drop some off at his house. They’d be waiting on his porch step when he got home.
God, he loved that woman. Well, not love. He glanced over at Becca’s office and caught a glimpse of her talking on the phone. May
be he could go in and say a quick hello.
He passed by two machine operators and nodded. The young men looked like the one he’d recently fired. Though they couldn’t possibly recognize him, he was pretty sure they’d sped up the conveyor belts on purpose, but he wasn’t about to confront them. He could take a little “new guy” hazing.
Becca waved him in and wrapped up her conversation, demanding that the new avocado shipment arrive first thing in the morning. Her tone was forceful yet professional as she told the person on the other line that receiving them any later than 9 a.m. was not an option.
Damn. She was good. And he had to admit, listening to her exercising her authority was kind of a turn-on.
She finished her call and motioned for him to take a seat. “How’s it going out there, Coop?”
“Good. I think I’m getting the hang of it. Pretty flowers.” Nice that she had set them right on her desk. He usually ordered roses because that was what most women preferred, but Becca seemed like a gardenia kind of gal. “Are they from your boyfriend?”
The face she made told him he’d probably crossed the line—that or the thought of him actually being her boyfriend repulsed her.
“No, they most certainly are not.” She sighed and touched one of the petals. “Just someone who thinks he can charm me with flowers.”
And was it working?
She yanked out a petal and tore it to shreds.
I guess not. He’d probably get fired for this next move, but that vase had cost him over a hundred dollars. Sure, it didn’t put a dent in his bank account, but still. He stood and picked up the vase, setting it on a small worktable near the window.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was clear with unmistakable annoyance.
“Giving them a second chance. Trust me, you’ll enjoy them tomorrow.”
That got a chuckle, and even a half smile. “Maybe I will.”
The sound of the conveyer belts signaled his break was over. “I guess that’s my cue.” He headed for the door but stopped, a brazen idea popping into his head. “Becca?”
“Yes, Coop.”
“Would you have lunch with me tomorrow?”
She looked up from her paperwork and blinked. “Sure. We usually go in shifts so as not to overcrowd the break room.”
“The break room … right. Lunch in the break room, it is. It’s a date.” It’s a date. Was he an idiot? The last thing he needed was her to think he was sexually harassing his boss. He’d already basically asked if she had a boyfriend. “Um … not a date. Just lunch. I’ve got a ton of questions to ask you about plant operations to get fully up to speed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He rushed out before he dug his grave any further.
Grayson returned to his place on the production line, his back to Becca’s office. How was it that even in a disguise, this woman could turn him into a fumbling teenage boy trying to talk to a crush for the first time? He tabled that question, as he needed to concentrate at covering all the dip tubs coming down the conveyer belt.
And just like earlier, they kept coming … and coming … and coming. Sure, he loved this product, but seriously, how much could they make in one freakin’ day?
Twenty minutes in, Franco asked if he’d be okay on his own while he took a bathroom break.
“I’ve got this.” Grayson slapped on a lid and then another, trying to keep up. The last time he lidded dip he’d been a lanky sophomore with bad acne. He hated that job and convinced his dad to let him work in the marketing and finance departments instead his junior and senior year.
Still, lidding dip was just like riding a bicycle. He fell into an easy rhythm at first, but the tubs seemed to be flying at him. He attempted to adjust his stance, but his boot caught against the machine.
He yanked his foot free, but that loss of seconds led to the tubs piling up, several toppling over the conveyer belt and onto the floor. Oh fuck. Grayson reacted and lunged his body onto the machine. Spreading his arms out, he tried unsuccessfully to stop from turning the cement factory floor into one giant appetizer.
Franco came rushing over, yelling at the top of his lungs, “We’ve got a dip derailment! Shut off the machine!”
The conveyer belts stopped, and Becca flew around the corner. “Why are you yelling?” She sidestepped the area that was now Guacamole Ground Zero. “What the hell happened here?”
“It looks like the boys were messing with the new guy,” Franco said in a low voice.
Grayson shook off the guacamole, wiping his hands on his apron. “It’s no big deal. I’ll clean this up.”
“It is a big deal. That’s lost product.” Becca marched over to the two men, threatened to dock their paycheck to pay for the dip they’d just lost, and told them to knock it off. They grumbled but brought Grayson a mop and a bucket.
“Sorry, dude,” one of the guys said.
He held back the urge to tell him that come September, the punk would be looking for a new job. “It’s fine, man. I’ve got to learn to hustle.”
Bending down, he began to scoop up the guacamole with towels Franco handed him, getting the dip all over his smock and jeans. He stood and reached for the mop, pushing it through the bucket’s soapy water, Becca’s words from earlier ringing in his ears.
Welcome to Guac Olé.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Becca rounded the corner of the supermarket aisle, her small grocery basket in hand. She needed to grab some sandwich meat for her lunch and then she could hit the checkout line. It’d been a long day and she was anxious to get home, plop down on her couch, and get lost in a book.
What a day. She couldn’t help but laugh at what had happened to her new employee. Could a guy be called a hot mess? If so, Coop Jackson was certainly one. The fact that he showed up to work wearing cowboy boots, without a sensible second pair to change into, should have told her everything she needed to know.
She suspected the fellas might haze the new guy a bit, but that loss of dip was not cool, and she’d given an earful to the young guys.
What she really couldn’t stop thinking about was what happened before that dip disaster, when Coop had stopped in her office. That he’d asked her if the flowers were from her boyfriend and then invited her to lunch tomorrow was a bold move. The boyfriend question seemed a little inappropriate. Never mind that they’d just met, but she was his boss.
Coop could have just been making small talk. He seemed nice enough, and when she left today, he was still mopping the floor. She’d said good-bye and that she’d see him tomorrow—wearing better shoes. He’d smiled and told her to have a good night.
So now they’d have lunch tomorrow. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like they’d be alone, since most of the employees took their lunch in the break room.
She searched for her favorite honey-roasted turkey sandwich meat. Maybe she should grab a bag of chips or get some chocolate chip cookies that they could share, but then she dismissed that thought. She did not need to be sharing chips, cookies, or any other snack with Grayson’s former roommate. That must have been quite the pairing. She snickered. Probably the real reason Coop dropped out.
Her thoughts easily drifted to Grayson. Was he having fun on his tropical vacation?
She needed to think up another question, because that one seemed to pop into her head every couple of hours.
She set the sandwich meat in her basket and turned quickly—running smack into Gavin and Macy. “I’m so sorry,” she said and took a step back from the smiling couple. “How are you both?”
“Great,” he answered. “It’s good to see you, Becca. Have you met my fiancée, Macy?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s so nice to meet you.” Starstruck, she held out her hand. Was she really meeting her favorite country music singer? Figured she’d be wearing her standard plain shirt with black pants covered in guacamole stains. At least she’d replaced her work shoes with cute black flats. “I’m a big fan. I have all your CDs … I love you so much.” Oh, shut up, Becca. “I mean, I love your
music so much.” She attempted to regain her composure.
“It’s my honor, and it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ll make sure you get my latest CD before it comes out. It’s a Christmas one.”
“I would love that.”
“Baby, what did you need over here again?” Macy patted Gavin on the chest, her exquisite diamond engagement ring sparkling on her hand.
The nausea that had overcome Becca Saturday night was back. That shiny rock symbolized that Jack had been successful in his matchmaking.
Macy’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her purse. “It’s my manager. Excuse me for a second.” She took a few steps away from them toward the banana display.
Becca swept her bangs to the side, not knowing what to say to the handsome veterinarian who was now giving her a warm smile. “So, Grayson must be having a great time right about now.”
Gavin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Really? What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “Um … relaxing on the beach, I would imagine. I’ve never been to Cancun.”
“Cancun? Grayson’s in Cancun?”
“Didn’t he tell you he was going away for three weeks?” What brother headed to another country without telling his family?
“It must have slipped his mind …” If Becca wasn’t mistaken, his tone had a hint of irritation. “So, how are things going at the plant?”
“Good. I’m really sorry about Saturday night. Chuck was officially terminated this morning.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Those things are never easy.” He smiled down on her. “But I’m sure you handled it well.”
“You know, Grayson took care of it before he left. He offered the position to his former college roommate. He started today.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, I guess he offered him a job over the weekend. He’s working the line.” She sighed. “Well, he’s trying to.”
“Really.” Gavin’s expression was more than a little surprised. “That makes no sense. Donovan’s a sports attorney in Dallas. He gave me and Grayson tickets to last year’s Super Bowl.”
“Donovan?” She frowned. “No, his name is Coop Jackson.”
