by T. L. Haddix
“Sydney, this is me you’re talking to. It isn’t the job that interests you.”
She wet her lips and looked out the window at the traffic passing by on the road beyond the diner’s parking lot. “It doesn’t sound boring,” she hedged.
“But the boss man’s the real draw,” Danny finished in a low voice. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She wanted to argue with him. She couldn’t. “Maybe if I spend time with him in an office setting, I’ll get over this ridiculous crush. Maybe he burps and farts and smells like onions and liver on closer acquaintance. Besides, I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince him to give me the job no matter how badly he needs someone in there.”
Danny gave a quick shrug. “He really does need help. I don’t know. Like I said, I just hate to see you get hurt.”
“I’ve got some visiting to do today, tomorrow. I’ll probably go in Wednesday or thereabouts and see what he says. As much as I’m jumping in with both feet, my eyes closed, I don’t think he’ll give me the job. The sad thing is, I am qualified for it. And I really might like it. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Well, however things turn out, I’m here for you,” Danny told her quietly. He smiled across the table at her. “It’s good to have you back.”
Sydney tipped her head to the side and smiled back at him. “It’s good to be back.”
Chapter Five
He knew she’d show up. Oh, he’d hoped she’d not but in his heart, Sawyer knew Sydney’d been serious about the job. When she walked in the door ten minutes after he opened the office Thursday morning, he cursed under his breath. Looking fresh, young, and too pretty for his peace of mind, she greeted him with a sunny smile and a bag of pastries.
“I’m not above bribes,” she said as he took the bag. “Are you terribly busy?”
Sawyer huffed out a breath even as he opened the bag and sniffed. “No. Let’s get this over with.”
“Gee, Sawyer, you’ll give me a complex. You sound like me when I have to go to the dentist. Surely I’m not that daunting.” She followed him from the reception area into his office, taking in every nook and cranny of the place as she sat down in the guest chair. When he sat and pulled a bear claw from the bag, she handed him one of the paper plates she carried, along with a napkin.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’d be able to do this job?”
“Well, now, since I’m not entirely clear on what the job is, I’m not sure I can do it. Why don’t we start there? Tell me what you need.”
The phone rang, and after glancing at caller ID, he ignored it.
“I need someone who can answer phones, greet clients, be discreet, handle transcribing reports, do a craptastic load of paperwork and payroll, make me coffee, keep the office clean, and generally run things while I’m not here. The pay’s lousy, the hours are long, and there’s little chance of promotion.”
Sydney nodded. “I can do that. I don’t need the money, so the lousy pay isn’t a problem.” When he snorted, she shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true. When you walk in after a family member’s funeral and find your husband banging the maid on the dining room table, you get a bit of bargaining power in the divorce. Especially considering that your father-in-law and his business partner are with you when you catch dear hubby in flagrante delicto.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows clashed together in a mighty scowl. “Son of a bitch. I’m sorry.”
She waved the apology away. “It was a blessing in disguise, but thanks. Regardless, it left me in a very comfortable position financially. Plus, I’ve not spent the last three years idle. I worked as Uncle Charles’s personal assistant at the law firm in Savannah where he was a senior partner. I helped him close his end of the business out during the past year, and I’m familiar with how an office works. I also realize how important discretion is in this kind of business.”
She paused, giving him a chance to offer a rebuttal. For the life of him, Sawyer was having a hard time coming up with one. The phone rang again, the same caller as before, and as before he ignored it.
“I’d need you at least forty hours a week for a while.”
“I’m used to working sixty to eighty. Forty will feel like a vacation.”
He narrowed his eyes as he sat back, wiping his hands on a napkin as he studied her. “Why do you want this job?”
Sydney pushed her glasses up, her gaze dropping to his desk. “You need help. From what I’ve heard, you’ve had trouble finding it. And it sounds interesting. I need something to do, and I might just enjoy this. At the very least, I can help you out of a pinch.”
There was more, Sawyer knew. He just didn’t know what that something else was. He didn’t want to hire her, but the hell of it was, she did sound perfect for the job.
“You’d have to pass a background check.”
“Hmmm. That might be a problem. Except you already know every criminal thing I’ve ever done,” she countered, though her cheeks were flushed. “I’ve walked the path of the good girl since I was nineteen. I’ve not had so much as a speeding ticket.”
“Where are you going to be staying? With your folks?”
To his surprise, her mouth tightened. “That’s still up in the air. They haven’t done anything with the old house, and if we can get past Mom and Daddy’s stubbornness, I’ll probably move in there.”
It was entirely nosy of him, but Sawyer’s curiosity was aroused. “Why are they being stubborn?”
“My parents are genetically programmed to be stubborn, you know that.”
“Runs in the family.”
She laughed softly, but the question made her uncomfortable, no doubt. She was clearly reluctant to answer, which made him even more determined to know what was going on. When he just stared at her, waiting, she finally gave in with a sigh.
“You know Archer isn’t my biological father, right?”
Sawyer nodded.
“When Mom came home from Georgia all those years ago, when she was pregnant with me, she bought that house with money my biological father had given her to take care of me with. So she and Daddy are trying to say that the house is mine to begin with. I’m arguing that it’s their house, they’re the ones who’ve maintained it all these years, and they should either rent it or sell it to me. Not give it to me outright like they’re trying to do.” She frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
He shook his head. “That’s just a very adult thing of you to do. I’m imagining the ‘discussion’ you all’ve been having, that’s all.”
Sydney growled. “It’s hard to tell who’s winning. At this point, we’re at an impasse. If they keep insisting on giving me the house, I may end up renting an apartment somewhere just to prove a point. Whose point I’d be proving, though, I don’t know.” She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, then gave another soft laugh.
This time, Sawyer laughed with her. “You all will figure it out. What if you get bored and decide you hate the job, leave me high and dry here all by myself?”
The change of subject didn’t throw her, but the question did make her angry. If he wasn’t mistaken, it also disappointed her. “I’m not a quitter. If I make a commitment, I honor it. And if I did get bored, I’d at least give you notice. Can it be worse than the situation you’re in now?” She gestured around the office.
As though to validate her words, the phone rang again. Sydney raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly for him to either answer it or ignore it.
Shaking his head, cursing under his breath again, Sawyer stood and went to a nearby filing cabinet. “Fill this out,” he said, handing her an application. “Front and back. Assuming you pass the background check, when do you want to start?”
“I’ll pass the background check,” she told him confidently. “And I can start whenever you want me to.
”
The phone rang again. This time it wasn’t a call he could ignore, and he answered. “Evans Investigations.”
Sydney smiled and stood, going into the reception area. Sawyer kept an eye on her as she sat at the desk out there and filled out the application, his attention mostly on the phone call. He made some notes pertinent to the conversation after he hung up, his mind racing as he asked himself what the hell he was doing.
He knew she’d pass the background check. Her qualifications were ideal. She’d definitely brighten the place up. And he couldn’t ignore the fact that the pay didn’t matter. But damn it, he’d really been hoping he would be able to say no.
He’d had disturbing dreams about Sydney ever since Sunday, dreams that had him seriously contemplating calling the divorcée for a second date. Given the difference in their ages, Sawyer was horrified. He blamed the dreams on the fact that it had been so long since he’d had sex. And he told himself that he hadn’t spent that much time around Sydney when she was a child, only a handful of encounters here and there. It wasn’t like he’d watched her grow up. Knowing that didn’t make it better, though.
When he saw her sign the application, he stood and went into the front room. She handed him the paper, and as he glanced at it, he saw that she’d filled it out fully, her handwriting neat and not the frilly girlish scrawl he’d been expecting. He had a feeling there was a lot about Sydney that would turn out to be not what he’d expected.
“Give me your driver’s license and social security card,” he said gruffly. “I’ll make a copy of those. If you can come back after lunch, I’ll have the background check done. We can go from there.”
“I’ll be here. What time exactly?” she asked as he made the copies.
“Let’s say one.” Handing her the IDs, he nodded. “See you in a bit.”
She smiled up at him. “I can hardly wait.”
After she’d gone, he crossed to the desk and picked up the pen she’d used, watching out the window as she exited the stairs and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of her mother’s photography studio. “You’re a pathetic, dirty old man, Evans,” he growled. “And you’re an idiot.”
He’d had to fight not to draw in a deep breath as she stood beside him while he made copies of the IDs. Her perfume was subtle, not light and floral as he’d imagined, but darker, more seductive. Hiring Sydney was definitely not a good idea, he thought for the hundredth time since she’d walked in the office, but he’d be damned if he could come up with a good reason not to. Maybe he’d be able to figure something out by the time she returned.
Chapter Six
It took every bit of willpower Sydney had as she walked downstairs to the street not to break into skips and giggles. She had to remind herself that she was a twenty-six-year-old divorced woman who’d just applied for a position with a man who didn’t particularly want her working for him, not a nineteen-year-old kid getting a summer dream job with the hottie who’d caught her eye.
She’d gotten the job! Thankfully, she was far enough down the street now that she was around an ever-so-slight bend, and when the giddy laugh escaped her, she didn’t try to hold it back.
She practically skipped past the bakery where she’d gotten the pastries and opened the door of the photography studio Emma Gibson had set up all those years ago when she’d come home pregnant with Sydney.
Her Aunt Zanny greeted her with an expectant smile. “Well?”
Sydney’s excited squeal served as an answer as she danced in place.
Zanny clapped her hands, laughing at the antics. “Congratulations! I’m so happy that you’re happy! And that Sawyer will have you helping him. The poor man’s been run ragged. When do you start?”
Sydney pirouetted across the room to land not lightly on the sofa. “If I have my way? Today. If he has his way? Never. But I think I won this round.”
“So you got it?” Emma asked as she came in from the back room. “You’ll really be working just a few doors down from us?”
“Yep. Think you can stand having me that close, Mama?”
Emma walked over and placed a smacking kiss on her forehead. “I’ll manage. I knew the man would have the good sense to hire you. Now, we just need to get that housing situation straightened out. Zanny, maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
Zanny, who’d been her mother’s best friend since she and Emma were seven, pursed her lips. “She has plenty sense. And she has a point. Charge her a pittance for rent, make her pay utilities, and call it done. Save the money in a special account and buy her something huge for her birthday next year.” Zanny winked at Sydney, and Sydney winked back.
“It’s her house!” Emma protested.
“It’s not just her house. It’s your house, too. You’re both right about this, and you’re both wrong. Compromise.”
Emma flopped down beside Sydney. “Fine. Two hundred a month. You’re in charge of everything else the house needs. And what do you want for your birthday?”
Sydney laughed. “I don’t care. I don’t need anything. Give the money to the animal shelter or something. Deal?” She held her hand out, biting her lip as Emma contemplated the offer. When her mother groaned and gave in, sealing the deal with a handshake, Sydney smiled.
“So when do you start your job?” Emma asked.
“We’ll see. Maybe today if I can twist his arm. He didn’t want to give it to me. I could read that as plainly as I can read the newspaper. He really must be as desperate as everyone says.” That hurt a bit, she wasn’t going to lie. But in the end, she’d gotten the job, and that was what she was holding on to.
“The first girl he had was pretty good, really,” Zanny said. “But it was a lot of work and she had a small child. The second girl? You know those old TV shows where the secretary sits there chewing gum, talking on the phone, filing her nails?”
Sydney was astonished. “Surely not?”
“Yep. Two-hour lunches, coming in late, the whole nine yards. It was a disaster. She confused a couple of his clients with one another, from my understanding, in a way that nearly caused a fistfight right in the office.”
Eyes wide, Sydney looked at her mother.
Emma nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone run that fast in three-inch heels as she went by to her car. We heard him roar at her from in here. Literally. Not that I blame the man.”
“That was when he vowed never again. But then he had to start keeping up with all the paperwork, and he’s been reconsidering that vow,” Zanny said.
“It sounds like the two of you see quite a bit of him.” Sydney looked from her mother to Zanny.
“We do,” her aunt confirmed. “He’ll stop in on slow days for coffee or a pastry or the like, just to have someone to talk to more than anything I think. As solitary as he is, he’s not used to being completely alone with only clients to interact with.”
Emma snorted. “If Myrtle from downstairs has her way, he’d interact with her.”
“That’s true.” Zanny shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “Even if she is old enough to be his mother.”
“She’s not that old,” Emma protested. “Only about ten years older than him. She’s just been rode hard.”
“Still, she’s not who I’d pair him with. She’s… a bit of a corncob. Sawyer needs a sleek fox.”
“Who’s Myrtle?” Sydney asked, tamping down on her jealousy.
“She owns the beauty salon on the first floor of Sawyer’s building. She moved in a couple of years back after the place she’d had for decades burned down.” Emma stood as the phone rang. “That’s my cue. Can you stick around for lunch?”
“I might head over to the library first, then come back. I’m supposed to be at Sawyer’s at one.”
“You might see Noah and Daddy there,” Emma said. “Daddy wanted
to do some genealogy, and Noah usually drives him these days.”
“How come?” Sydney asked, concerned. Although both her grandparents had seemed to be the picture of health yesterday, they were eighty-one and seventy-five respectively, and Sydney knew they wouldn’t always be as sprightly as they were now.
“I think Owen just likes spending the time with Noah,” Zanny answered. “They’re two of a kind, and he knows Noah tends to stay in more than he should. If he’s not working, he’s home. And Owen tries to get him out and about. I think he’s looking for a woman for Noah, between us and the fencepost.”
“Awww… that’s so sweet! Grandpa’s matchmaking? Does Noah realize that’s what Grandpa’s doing?”
Sydney knew Zanny worried about Noah. He was her oldest son, and he had abilities that were uncommon even in the Campbell family. He could see, hear, and talk to the dead, and had been able to since he was small. Those abilities had weighed heavily on Noah, who craved solitude as a result.
Emma’s snort was amused. “No. Noah’s your typical male in that regard. For the record, I hope it works. I hope Daddy does find him someone. I know he worries that Noah’s too much like he was before he met Mom.”
Zanny nodded. “There’s a reason Sarah likes to call Noah her ‘little Owen’ and it isn’t because he looks just like his grandfather at that age. Maybe now that you’re home, you can help Owen find him someone.”
“Whew. I don’t know. If you all haven’t had any luck, I probably won’t. But I can try. Maybe Danny can help.”
After giving them both excited hugs, she left and headed for the new library. Once there, she looked around for her grandfather and cousin but didn’t see them. She did find a few books she’d been trying to find the time to read, though, and she snatched them up. It wasn’t until she got to the checkout desk that she realized she didn’t have a valid library card.
