by Kaylee Ryan
I got this!
“That’s a big smile,” Stacy comments.
My grin gets bigger. “Yeah. I’m really excited about this.” I wave the packet of paper in my hands.
“I’m happy for you, Logan.”
“Thank you. I’m going to go pick out my clothes for tomorrow and complete this mountain of paperwork.” I stand to head toward my room.
“Logan.” I turn to face her. “I’m here, you know, if you need to talk,” she says gently.
I offer her a smile. “Thanks, Stace.”
“He didn’t . . . he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
The question throws me off guard. “What? No, of course not.”
Her shoulders sag with relief. “It’s just that you’ve been quiet, and I was worried.”
Taking a deep breath, I let her words sink in. She’s right. Any other time, I would be chatting it up with her nonstop. But something about what I shared with Michael has me being selfish, wanting the memory just for me.
“He didn’t hurt me. If anything, he ruined me for all other men.” I wink at her and turn back around and head for my room. That is as much as I’m going to give her right now, and from the smile on her face, it’s enough to calm her fears, but not enough to keep her from badgering me with questions later.
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Today’s the day, the first day of my new job. I dress in a gray pencil skirt with a white flowing top. I step into my black heels and my look is complete. Stacy left already for her first day as well. I don’t have to report until ten. If that’s how this job continues, things are going to be just fine. I grab my purse, check that I have my phone and the packet of paperwork that took me hours to complete, and I’m on my way.
I pull up the GPS on my phone and type in the address. It’s not one located in downtown, so I have no idea where I’m going. As I drive, I get further away from the city limits. I start to worry when the GPS says that in one mile I will have reached my destination. Well, all right then. I know the address I entered is correct, I triple checked it, so I continue to drive.
When my GPS tells me I have reached my destination, I pull into the gated drive. I stop at the speaker and hit the buzzer.
“Yes,” a voice comes over the speaker.
“Hi, I’m Logan Andrews. I’m here to meet with Mr. Jones,” I speak to the box.
There is no reply, but the gate clicks opens. I drive past the wrought-iron panels up the long paved driveway. I reach a house, well not just a house, a freaking mansion in the woods. Parking my car, I take a deep breath, gather my belongings, and make my way to the front door.
Just as I reach the top step, the door swings open. “Logan Andrews,” the girl says.
“Yes,” I say politely.
She thrusts her hand out toward me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cassidy, Mr. Jones’ personal assistant. He’s expecting you.”
I follow her into the house and down a long hallway. She leads us into a large sitting room. In the room, there are four guys. One, who I assume is Mr. Jones, is dressed in a suit, and three others are drop-dead gorgeous. All three of them are covered in tattoos and are completely lickable. My mind wanders to Michael and how I traced his ink with my tongue. I’ve since added getting a tattoo to my list of “things to do.” Daniel never would have approved.
“Mr. Jones, Logan Andrews is here to see you,” Cassidy introduces me. I can feel their eyes on me.
Mr. Jones stands from his seat and walks toward me. “You’re Logan?” he asks as if he’s appalled.
“Yes, sir,” I say, keeping my voice strong.
“Holy shit! He’s going to kill you,” one of the guys says.
I keep my attention on Mr. Jones. He’s rubbing his temple as if the thought of me being female stresses him out. “Is there an issue, sir?” I boldly ask him.
His shoulders sag. “No, no issue really. You see, I hired you to be the personal assistant of Kacen Warren. Does that name ring a bell to you?” he asks me.
“No, sir,” I reply.
Again, he releases a heavy sigh. “Kacen is the lead singer for the rock band Soul Serenade. These knuckle heads”—he points over his shoulder—“are his bandmates. Kacen has gone through several female personal assistants in the last few months, and he demanded that the next one be male,” he explains.
The look on my face must say it all, as he hurries to explain. “Kacen is great to work for. It’s these three who keep running them off. They can’t seem to keep it in their pants, and when they dump her, she quits, leaving Kacen and the band without a personal assistant.”
“So, am I working for Kacen or the band?” I ask, confused. I’ve heard of them, my little brother is a fan. However, I don’t know much about them.
“Come sit.” He reaches for my arm and pulls me into the room. He motions for me to take the chair that sits opposite of the one he was in when we arrived. “Technically, you work for Kacen, but he started the band. There are a lot of things that he prefers to take care of personally, and he uses his personal assistant to do that.”
“So Kacen is going to be angry that I’m female? Do I even still have the job?” I ask him.
“Yes, the job is yours. I’ll talk to him. This was an honest misunderstanding. The three of you,”—he points around the room—“she’s off-limits, do you hear me?”
They all nod their agreement with grins on their faces. “So where is he?” I ask, wondering when I will get to meet my new boss.
Mr. Jones looks up at his assistant. “His flight lands late this afternoon. I’ve scheduled a car to pick him up,” Cassidy reports.
“We just finished touring and each took some time off. Kacen has a recording studio here in his basement. We’re going to start on the next album,” one of the guys offers.
“Logan, allow me to introduce you to Soul Serenade. This is Tristan. He plays the drums. That guy there is Gavin. He plays bass guitar. And here we have Cole, who plays lead guitar. Kacen also plays bass and is the lead singer.” Mr. Jones introduces us.
Raising my hand to wave at them, I say, “Nice to meet you.” In return, I get a wink and a few crude comments. I can tell these guys are going to be a handful, but harmless nonetheless.
“So, what can I do?” I look toward Mr. Jones for direction.
“I’ll show you what you can do,” one of the guys says. I think it was Cole.
“Cut it out!” Mr. Jones snaps. “Logan, Cassidy will show you to your office here at the house. She will also get you set up with your computer, iPad, phone, etc. It already has all the guys’ information, as well as others’ that you ‘ll need.” He turns to Cassidy. “Please show her the ropes today.”
Cassidy loops her arms through mine. “Trust me, I’ll make sure she knows all about each and every one of you.” She laughs, pulling me down the hallway, and stopping in front of a door just off the living area. “This is your office.” My eyes widen. I have an office here? “The majority of your time will be spent here. The band records in Kacen’s basement, and essentially you are assisting the band as well as Kacen; the two go hand in hand,” she explains.
“So, Kacen started the band?” I need as much intel as I can get.
“Yes, they all grew up together, formed the band in high school. I don’t know all the specifics, just that they are a tight-knit group,” Cassidy explains.
“And Kacen, he wanted a male assistant?” I repeat the words that Mr. Jones told me just minutes ago. My head is still spinning from all of this. I thought I was going to be a personal assistant for a record label, not a famous rock star and his band.
“Yeah, the guys like to . . . play the field, if you will. The last three assistants we’ve hired have gotten involved with at least one of them, and when they realize that it was just a hook-up, they get ticked off and quit. Kacen is tired of going through the process and advised he wanted a male. This is not information I was privileged to until today when you arrived. When I called you, if I would have known, I woul
d have been able to stop the process. Personally, you don’t look like their usual assistants,” she rambles on.
“What exactly were you expecting?” I ask. It comes out a little harsher than I meant for it to.
“I didn’t mean that in a negative manner. What I mean is that you don’t look like a ‘groupie’ for lack of a better term. You strike me as someone who will not fall to their charms, put them in their place. That is exactly what they need.”
“What about Kacen? He’s never run off an assistant with . . . extracurricular activities?”
My question causes Cassidy to throw her head back and laugh. “That’s a great way to put it. No, Kacen is different. His extracurricular activities, as you put it, are more defined. He doesn’t play games, and he doesn’t let anyone in. Again, I don’t know the specifics, but you hear things being around this bunch. It appears he avoids any emotional attachment other than his bandmates and his parents, who are amazing.”
I let her words sink in and can’t help but wonder what I have gotten myself into. “There”—Cassidy points to the desk in the center of the room—“is your MacBook Air, your iPad, and your iPhone. All provided by the label for the band’s assistant. I also ordered you a credit card, but it has yet to arrive. The guys go into the zone when recording, so you will often have to pick up takeout to keep them nourished.”
“Sounds easy enough.” I smile at her even though my insides are a mess. I’m nervous about this, about being responsible for their schedule, catering to their needs. I want this job and I don’t want to screw it up. Cassidy spends the next hour going over what she knows of the band’s routine and what is expected and what I may be asked to do. The list that she rattles off gives an entirely new meaning to ‘miscellaneous duties as assigned.’
“All right, well I need to get back to the office for a delivery that I couldn’t get changed. I should be back in an hour or so.”
“What should I do in the meantime?” I ask her.
She waves her hand in the air as if to dismiss my question. “Nothing today. Just hang out here with the band. Kacen’s flight lands late this afternoon. I have a car scheduled to pick him up, so he’ll be here later. You don’t really have set hours, and since you’re on salary, there will be some longs days. Today will be one of them. Mr. Jones asked that you stick around until Kacen arrives so we can get the introduction out of the way. Then you can leave and he can stew overnight on the fact that you are, indeed, female.”
“Lovely.” There’s sarcasm in my voice.
“Logan, I have a feeling you are just what these boys need.”
“Boys,” I scoff.
“Yes, boys. Trust me, once you spend some time with them, you’ll understand.” She motions for me to follow her back to the living area. “All right, I have to head back to the office for a delivery. I’ll be back.” She waves to the three band members who are sprawled out in the living room and then disappears.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Come on in,” one of them says, I think it’s Gavin.
Not willing to let them see me sweat any more than they have, I walk to the back of the couch and brace my hands on the back. “So, Cassidy says Kacen should be here later; in the meantime, can I do anything for you?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. The three of them face me with matching grins on their faces.
Boys is right!
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand to stop whatever is about to fly out of their mouths. “Let’s try this again. Would you like something to eat?” It doesn’t take more than their grins and the “you” that is made to sound like a cough to make me realize that I have again stuck my foot in my mouth with these dirty-dirty minded rockers. “Something that is prepared in the kitchen,” I state with a grin. I can’t help but laugh.
“Kitchen table?” Cole asks.
“Counter?” Gavin pipes in.
“I’m thinking up against the fridge,” Tristan adds.
I just grin and shake my head. Their antics will not work on me, but I need to get used to their brand of teasing. I head toward the kitchen, stopping by the door, I turn. “I’ll just see what I can come up with,” I say over my shoulder. The ruckus I hear could only mean that they are following me. I reach the kitchen and all three of them take a seat at the island. “I’m actually a decent cook,” I say, breaking the ice.
“Really?” Cole asks. At least I think he’s Cole. I need to do some Google work on my new electronics and make sure I have them correct. “How about chicken and dumplings? My mom used to make them all the time growing up.”
“I can do that,” I smile.
“Wait, fried chicken,” Tristan moans as he licks his lips.
“Cake. What I wouldn’t give for a piece of chocolate cake.” Gavin licks his lips.
“Yes, yes, and yes. I just need to see if we have all of the ingredients. I don’t think we need all of that right now, so I’ll start with you. Cole, right?” I ask pointing at him.
“Fuck yes!” He fist pumps the air.
“Didn’t you just spend two weeks at your parents? Didn’t your mom make that for you?” Gavin questions him.
“Yes, but it’s my favorite,” he whines.
“I promise that each of you will get your favorite. We can take turns each day. I have everything I need for dumplings, so let’s do that today.” I feel like I’m babysitting. The only difference is that these guys, all three of them, scream sexy rock star. Each of them is covered in ink, and it takes my thoughts to Michael, his arms hovering above me, wrapped around me. I shake off the memory and get to work.
As I start on lunch, the guys turn on the radio to a pop station. I’m shocked that it’s not rock, but keep my opinion to myself. I don’t know the song, but it has a nice beat to it. I’m standing at the stove, dropping balls of Bisquick into the boiling chicken broth when I feel strong hands grip my waist. Looking over my shoulder, I see Cole. He smiles and winks as he moves our hips to the beat.
“I’m a little busy here.” I try to sound annoyed but fail.
“Loosen up, girl,” he replies as he spins me around.
I reach over and turn down the heat on the stove and drop the fork I was using into the Bisquick bowl. Cole begins to move his body with mine and he’s got rhythm. I humor him and sway my hips to the beat. Tristan and Gavin whistle and cheer us on. As soon as the song is over, I push him away. “If I don’t pay attention, lunch will be ruined.”
“Back off, man. I’m fucking starving!” Tristan yells at Cole.
Raising his hands in the air, he laughs, “Okay, sheesh.”
They leave me alone to finish lunch. I serve each of them a heaping bowl of chicken and dumplings and watch as they devour it. “I vote we never eat takeout again, not when we have Logan,” Gavin says as he shovels another bite into his mouth.
Tristan and Cole nod in agreement, mimicking Gavin as they shovel in another bite.
I make myself a small bowl and stand leaning against the counter to eat. I finish just as the guys finish with their second helping. They surprise me when they each rinse off their dishes and place them in the dishwasher. I make quick work of the rest of the dishes, wipe off the counters, and call it good.
I follow their voices to the living room where they are playing Call of Duty. Tristan offers me to play and I accept. They all stare at me with their mouths hanging open when they see I actually know what I’m doing. “I have a younger brother,” I explain.
“Fuck, that’s hot!” Gavin says.
I turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.
“A gorgeous girl like yourself who can cook and plays Call of Duty, will you marry me?”
I laugh but his face is serious. “You know you would miss playing the field. Do you really want to break all those groupies’ hearts?” I ask him.
“The ladies do love me.” He winks.
The rest of the afternoon is spent with the four of us playing video games and just getting to know each other. I fe
el comfortable with them and that’s a relief. Now I just need to get past this Kacen character, hope he lets me keep my job and all will be good.
“Looks like you all are getting along,” Cassidy says from the doorway. “Sorry, Logan. The delivery was late,” she explains.
I don’t take my eyes from the screen; I don’t want to give Cole the upper hand and beat me. “I hope you got everything taken care of.”
“Finally, yes. I also received a call from the driver I scheduled to pick Kacen up from the airport. He should be here any time.”
The butterflies in my stomach take flight. I’m nervous that he’s going to let me go. I send up a silent prayer that he gives me the chance to prove myself.
“Perfect,” I hear a deep voice reply. Looking over at the door, I see that it’s Mr. Jones. I relax a little knowing he’s here. I can only hope he can help convince Kacen to give me a shot.
“Got ya!” Cole cheers.
Shit! I got distracted. Oh, well, better to not be engrossed in video games when the boss man gets here. I hand my controller off to Gavin, standing to stretch my legs.
A loud buzzer rings through the house. “That should be him,” Mr. Jones stares down the three band members. “Best behavior, I mean it,” he scolds them.
A round of sure things and you betcha’s are chorused. I hear the front door open and footsteps down the hall. I know Mr. Jones said I still have a job, but I brace myself for that to not be the case. I hear the deep rumble of voices in the hall as Mr. Jones explains me, and the misunderstanding. My back is to the door, so I don’t seem him walk in; however, I stand when I hear footsteps.
