She grabbed my shoulders and playfully shook them. “You need a distraction.”
“No thanks. I’d like to lose at least another twenty pounds before I even think about dating again.”
She sighed in exasperation. “You can’t be serious. You’re really going to torture yourself with diets before you allow yourself to date?”
“Look at me. I’m a hippo.”
Sky interjected, “You are not a hippo.”
“You’re well-proportioned,” Sammie said. “And you’ve got curves in all the right places.”
“I know I’m not obese—a little chubby maybe—but I’m not where I’d like to be. I wish I was slender like Tina.” The words fell out of my mouth like unsavory food hidden in a napkin underneath the dinner table.
“Who’s Tina?” Sky asked.
“The woman my ex-boyfriend, Austin left me for.”
“Girl,” Sammie said in a sing-song voice, “Tina can’t be more than ninety pounds. You trying to be a bag of bones?”
“Apparently, that’s what Austin wanted. He told me he was tired of trying to help me lose weight. Said he wanted someone who took better care of herself.”
“He actually told you that?” Sky asked.
Anger flashed in Sammie’s eyes and I warmed to how protective she was of me. “That’s complete baloney.” She eyed me, speculatively. “You’re fine just the way you are. Don’t let any man tell you different.”
Sky reached forward from the backseat and put a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re worried about this. You have to know how pretty you are.”
I glanced back at her. “Thanks, that means a lot. It’s just hard because Austin and I were always honest with each other, and I can’t fault him for telling me how he felt. He wanted me to slim down, but it’s always been such a struggle. Maybe if I’d lost weight, he wouldn’t have broken up with me.”
Sammie’s normally pale skin flushed in outrage. “Listen to yourself. He’s not worth it. God blessed you by getting you out of that relationship before you ended up married to him. Imagine being with a man who scrutinized your weight and cheated on you.”
“I agree,” Sky said from the back seat. “Count yourself lucky he’s not in your life anymore.”
“I do. But sometimes I wish God would change his heart and we could start over.”
Sammie took off the lid of her cup and swirled her chocolate shake around with her straw. “You’re right about starting over, but it shouldn’t be with Austin. Hmm. You should let me pick out your next boyfriend.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just say I’m not up to dating again?”
She glanced at me sheepishly and ran a hand through her long hair, damp from the humid air. “You lost the coin toss the other day.”
We’d had a coin toss when I’d moved in to determine who got the bedroom with the balcony facing the river. The view off the balcony was exquisite, one I’d desperately wanted. Back home, my room faced a busy street near a freeway overpass, so I would have done anything to secure the quiet balcony and the spectacular view. The other bedroom in our apartment faced the parking lot and was nothing to write home about. Of course, with my luck, I’d won the parking lot view.
A sly grin pulled at Sammie’s lips. “I’ll give you the bedroom with the better view if you give me something else.”
I froze. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
She appeared like a self-satisfied cat who’d captured its prey. “You can have the view of the river if you agree to let me set you up with three different guys of my choice.”
I nearly dropped my shake. “Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“Don’t do it,” Sky shrieked.
I gave Sky a knowing expression, then turned my attention back to Sammie. “No way. There’s no way I’m going to let you set me up with a bunch of guys I don’t even know. What if they reject me once they see I’m not thin?”
“It’s a risk you’ll have to take,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, not all guys want a skinny woman. Some like women with meat on their bones.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. That’ll be the day.” Experience told me those were just nice words. In the real world, men wanted women who fit into small jeans, and who didn’t look “well-fed.”
Sammy held a finger to her chin. “It’s your choice. You can suffer through a few free meals and enjoy the dreamy river view, or you can dig your heels in and spend the rest of the year watching people get in and out of their cars in the parking lot. You pick.”
I sunk down in my seat and crossed my arms. “But I unpacked my stuff in the other room.”
“Big deal. We can trade rooms today.”
I glanced at Sky, hoping for support.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I already told you what I thought.”
I narrowed my eyes at my best friend. “Samantha Hayes, why are you doing this?”
She smiled sweetly. “Because I’d never pass up an opportunity to play matchmaker. And I happen to like being the one in control. For once, you’ll go out with the guy of my choosing. He can’t be worse than Austin.” She must have sensed my hesitation because she added, “Oh, come on. What have you got to lose? If you don’t like any of the guys, you don’t have to see them again.”
I wanted the river view. And perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to expand my social connections. She was right, I did need to get out of my funk. “I suppose I can survive three measly dates, especially if I don’t have high hopes for them.”
She smiled in satisfaction and clapped her hands. “We have a deal?”
“I guess. Just make sure to show these men a picture of me first. I don’t want there to be any surprises.”
She grinned. “Oh honey, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
***
Before I got into bed, I did an online search of Sawyer Drake. A ton of articles came up, and I sifted through them, trying to figure out which ones were relevant. I stumbled upon an article written five years ago. A drunk driver hit the Drake family’s car as they were on their way to a fundraiser for muscular dystrophy, and witnesses at the scene said the car flipped and caught on fire. A crowd gathered and someone pulled a young man out of the car before the fire spread. The rest of the family perished.
The account was sobering, and I couldn’t even imagine how I’d feel if Mom and Dad were taken from me in such a way.
Several news reports showed up about a man named Roland Davenport. He was an elderly man without an heir and had a chance meeting with Sawyer. The encounter led him to name Sawyer as his heir, changing his life forever. I found that information intriguing since I’d thought Sawyer inherited his wealth from his parents.
I located two high school photos of Sawyer. On a high school classmates’ website, there was one of his team during a basketball game, and the other was of prom, tied to the Facebook page of Madison Winter. It figured Sawyer went to the prom with a girl who not only had the perfect figure but was drop dead gorgeous.
He smiled in the picture, appearing happy and confident and like a completely different person. What would it be like to make Sawyer Drake smile like that again? A sudden warm sensation tugged at my heart, surprising in its intensity. I liked a challenge. This one seemed almost insurmountable. But one way or another, I’d find a way. Sammie had prayed God would lead me to a job where I could serve others. Maybe my new job was an answer to her prayer.
Chapter 7
Sawyer
For the twenty-millionth time, I watched the first movie from the Lord of the Rings trilogy while eating breakfast. I sped through love scenes between Arwen and Aragorn. Why torture myself with what I couldn’t have?
I turned the channel and found a news station. Since I didn’t get out much, staying current with local news helped me feel connected to the outside world. The anchorwoman, Gina Harvey, reported on a house fire that happened the previous night and had been extinguished in the early morning hours.
Footage showed debris, black soot, and remaining ashes.
“The fire broke out about three-thirty in the morning and the family made it out minutes before flames consumed the house,” Gina said into the microphone. Then they flipped to previous footage when Gina interviewed the homeowner. “We’re speaking to Shirley Connor. Shirley, tell me, how are you feeling right now?”
Really? How did she think she felt?
“We lost everything and barely escaped with our lives. I’m just thankful my husband and I were able to get to our son in time. He’s a paraplegic.” She held a hand over her mouth while tears rolled down her cheeks. “There was no time to grab his wheelchair. My husband scooped him up, and we got out of there.”
Gina continued her commentary on how difficult it would be for the family to put their lives back together. “Is it true you and your husband don’t have relatives in the area?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. We’re forced to stay in a motel until we can rebuild.”
Their home insurance would pay for the motel, but it would be mediocre at best. American Red Cross would be involved, no doubt. But I could do better. Cameras zoomed in on the dump they were staying at and my heart went out to them.
I took my cell phone out of my pocket and left a message for Hayden. “Have you seen the news? A family lost their home to a fire. Move them to one of our hotels, or the nicest one in Tuscaloosa if they prefer to stay local. Give them funds to buy their son a new wheelchair and tell them all expenses will be provided, including food and whatever else they need. Keep my name out of it. You know the drill.”
Even though I contributed to a lot of charities, helping families and individual people brought a stronger sense of gratification because I was more personally invested in their welfare.
I turned back to my meal and took a bite of oatmeal, not able to block out the image of Shirley’s expression, maybe because I knew desperation when I saw it. Hayden would get them squared away. Suddenly, I had no appetite and pushed my bowl away.
The fire was a reminder of another scene years ago, one that had been burned into my memory. My parents, my brother—they were gone. Lost in thought, I stood, taking my bowl and the glass of orange juice to the sink.
I wandered to the living room closet and pulled out a photo album, hands trembling. A deep, heavy sadness settled over me as I ran a finger over the pale blue fabric cover Mom sewed so long ago. Lace surrounded the edges, frilly and tacky if you asked me, but I wouldn’t get rid of it for the world because she made it.
For several minutes, I stared at the book that held so many memories, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it.
The album went back in the closet, right next to the basketball I never handled anymore, and I strained to keep my breathing under control. Feeling agitated, I had to find a way to release excess energy, so I jogged upstairs to the gym and slipped on my running shoes. Exercise was one of the few things that helped when I needed to clear my head.
I ran full-force on the treadmill, music blasting as I tried to shut out the memories that hounded me like messengers of evil sent to destroy my life. The same prayer always came to my lips.
Why Lord? Why did you have to take them? You should have taken me instead.
Thirty minutes later, the treadmill slowed and I stepped off, toweling off the sweat on my face. I headed for my bedroom and pulled out my Bible. After reading a passage, I poured out my thoughts in the only outlet I had—my journal.
Images of the interview yesterday came flooding through my head, and my back stiffened. Had things gotten so bad that Hayden felt the need to control my life? Why didn’t he understand I wasn’t good around people anymore?
Hayden and I had always been close. My parents invited him and Sarah to our home so often it was like they were members of the family. With no other living relatives, Hayden and Sarah were the only ones that were there for me.
In fact, Hayden had become my best friend, even if he was thirty years older. I trusted his judgment. Trusted him with my life. We both knew I could be a little difficult at times—well, maybe a lot—but he’d never been afraid to tell me when I was out of line, and I’d always respected him for it.
But this time he was wrong.
How did he expect me to tolerate some college girl—this Ivy—when I hadn’t spent time with a female my age since high school? Something about her made me feel weak.
Like I had to put up my defenses.
He was out of his mind if he thought there’d be a happy ending in all this. Paying this woman to follow my every move was a disaster waiting to happen. I let out a frustrated groan and threw my journal across the room.
I’d go along with his plan for now, but I didn’t have to like it.
Maybe she’d grow so tired of dealing with my attitude that she’d quit on her own. I’d drive her to it if I had to.
A few hours later, Hayden called to give me a pep talk. I stood, gazing out the parlor window as a blue car drove up the driveway. “I promise I won’t fire her, at least not while we’re in the two-month period, but if she quits on her own, it’s not my fault. Come on, you saw how she looked at me. I’d be surprised if she lasted the week.”
Ivy got out of the vehicle and walked towards the front entrance.
Hayden continued to blow hot air through the phone and I silently shook my head, rolling my eyes and enduring every last word out of respect for him. If it hadn’t been him, I’d have hung up already.
The front door opened and closed downstairs and my stomach tightened. I gripped the phone close to my ear and gritted my teeth. “Hayden, I have to go. She’s here.”
The sound of feet trudging up the stairwell reminded me of someone marching to their doom. Forget lasting a week, she wouldn’t survive a day.
Push the right buttons, add a little pressure . . . She’d be gone soon enough.
There was a timid knock on the parlor door. I pictured Ivy standing in the hallway, not sure what to do next. She was waiting for me to say something or walk over and greet her. I didn’t want to make it too easy.
Instead, I collapsed into a chair and opened the bottom drawer of my desk. I grabbed a tennis ball and threw it against the wall, catching it when it bounced back. The rhythmic sound eased my nerves and gave me something to do. Continuing the motion over and over, I ignored the soft rapping that had grown more insistent.
How long would she stand out there before she opened the door on her own? I smirked. This should be fun.
Chapter 8
Ivy
Just what I always wanted. An employer who ignored me.
I kept knocking on the parlor door and knew he was in there because I heard something bouncing off the wall. Nudging the door open, I peeked my head through. Sawyer sat at a desk near the window, his back to me, hand raised to catch a tennis ball on its rebound. I walked in the room and he turned to look over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn together in a blatant frown.
Ugh. He was not happy to see me, and honestly, that got under my skin.
Admittedly, I’d always been a people pleaser. Mom, Dad, and some of my close friends had pointed this out to me on more than one occasion. It was a problem, one I continued to work on but hadn’t yet mastered.
The issue wasn’t so much that I sought approval, but I sometimes allowed myself to be a doormat in the process. At least that’s what Sammie told me. I had this overpowering drive to make other people happy, to want them to like me, often at my own expense.
It killed me when someone thought less of me.
Which made this situation with Sawyer even more nerve-wracking.
He was dressed much like yesterday, with dark blue jeans and combat boots, but today he wore a black, short-sleeve t-shirt that hugged every muscle of his upper body. I ignored the tightening of my stomach and averted my gaze.
“Ah, my assistant is here.” His spoke in a bored voice to no one in particular. “How will I ever contain my excitement?”
I made a feeble attempt at a s
mile, and forced myself to sound perky, just like my mom always did when she faced a cranky customer at the diner. “I’m ready to work. How can I help you today, Mr. Drake?”
He scowled. “I thought we covered this before. Call me Sawyer.”
“Okay, Sawyer, what can I do for you today?”
He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms behind his head, and delivered what could only be described as a sulky bad-boy gaze. How did he manage to look so intimidating and appealing all at once? It sent goosebumps up my arms, and they weren’t entirely unpleasant.
My eyes travelled the length of his scars but didn’t linger. His dark brown hair fell around his neck, and it was much longer than what I would expect for someone who owned a vast empire of luxury hotels. Or rather, Sawyer didn’t match my image of a corporate businessman in the least.
I preferred the clean-cut business type, and Sawyer had more of an edgier look with his longish hair, black t-shirt and black boots. What kind of man lived in an opulent home, decked out with the classiest furniture I’d ever seen, and still wore combat boots?
He grabbed an orange off his desk and tossed it at me, catching me off guard and forcing me out of my thoughts. I caught it, fumbling it like a baseball, managing not to drop it, thank goodness. Well, that was nice of him. Maybe it was a peace offering for ignoring me earlier.
“Thanks,” I said, relaxing slightly and allowing a faint smile to turn up the corners of my lips.
He smirked. “It’s not for you. First day on the job—let’s see how well you can peel an orange.”
Of course. This was what my job would entail—meaningless tasks for an entitled rich kid who had nothing better to do with his time. Fine. For what he paid me, I’d peel as many oranges as he wanted.
I stepped over to a trash can on the other side of the room and peeled off sections of the rind, the scent wafting through the air as I let each piece fall to the trash in a clump. It was hard to ignore him, but I did my best, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see my annoyed expression. This man would make me jump through hoops for his own entertainment. I squirmed under the heavy weight of his gaze and everything in me wanted to hide or run away.
The Unwanted Assistant Page 6
