Catching Sam: Book 2 of 5: The MacDonald Brothers

by Emily Matthews

  “You know I don’t kiss and tell,” Sam said with a frown.

  “Geez. You’d think after getting laid you’d be a little more relaxed.” Phil went to pick up the paper again and stopped midway. “Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry. It happens to everyone at some point.” He looked away, a combination of embarrassment and sympathy in his voice.

  “What? Oh, for Christ’s sake. That’s not what happened.” Sam stood up from his desk and walked over to the sitting area.

  “Uh-huh. Then why so pissy?” Phil gave him a knowing look, one eyebrow raised.

  “God. If you must know. She kinda got hers, and then pushed me out the door. It wasn’t that I couldn’t finish. I just didn’t get the chance.”

  At that, Phil let out a long, loud laugh. “Seriously? No way. That’s something that would happen to me, not The Sam MacDonald.” He continued laughing.

  Sam stared at him, expressionless. “Glad you’re getting a laugh at my expense.”

  “I’m sorry, dude. Really, that sucks,” Phil sputtered out between chuckles.

  “If you’re through?” Sam plopped down in the chair opposite the couch. “What do I do now? I called twice yesterday but got voicemail, and she never called back. Should I send flowers?”

  “What?” The inquiry sobered Phil up in a hurry. “No, you don’t send flowers. You forget it ever happened, get back to the Rules, and pray to God you never see her again.”

  “Except I do want to see her again. Her name’s Annie, and she’s different, Phil. This might sound crazy, but I think I’ve outgrown the type of women I’ve been seeing. I don’t want perfect and rich. I want smart, down-to-earth, and fun. I’m also tired of being so cynical and distrusting. Maybe I could give this a shot like a normal person would.”

  “Except that you’re not a normal person. Shit. Do I need to call Jake? Do we need to have an intervention and rehash all the reasons we made the Rules in the first place?”

  “Fuck the Rules. I’m done with them.”

  Phil stared at him, mouth hanging open.

  “Hey, I finally found a way to shut you up. Awesome.” Sam smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be careful. I’ll go in eyes wide open. Annie doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “Yet.” Phil sighed and picked up the newspaper again. “It’s your choice, man. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Okay. So, flowers or no flowers?”

  Sam’s intercom buzzed, indicating his secretary was about to speak. “Mr. MacDonald? Phillip is needed in HR. The new person is here.”

  “I’ll send him down. Thanks, Tracey.” He waited for the click that meant Tracey had gotten off the line. “Why does she call you Phillip?” Sam asked Phil.

  “I don’t know. Why does she call you Mr. MacDonald?”

  “Touché. I gave up asking her to call me Sam. She said it was too informal. Maybe that’s why she calls you Phillip.”

  “She’s a complicated woman,” said Phil with a wistful smile.

  Sam held in a laugh. Phil thought he was keeping a big secret, but Sam read him like a book and had known forever that Phil was harboring a secret crush on Tracey. Dating employees wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but was definitely frowned upon, so neither man had ever broached the topic.

  “Why are you showing around a new person? Isn’t that HR’s job?”

  “It must be the graphic designer we hired for the Denali project. Since she’ll be working closely with us, I told HR I’d take care of her. She came highly recommended from the San Francisco office, so she’s not new to the company, just the Bellevue office. I forget her name, but I know you were at the meeting where we all agreed to transfer her up here.”

  “All right then.” He made decisions all the time to which he never gave a second thought. “You wanna grab lunch before the one o’clock?”

  Phil stood and straightened his tie. “Sounds good. I’ll be back around eleven-thirty. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he said on his way out.

  “Better not be gone long then,” Sam muttered as he headed back to his desk. He’d been thinking about Annie all weekend. A woman who didn’t return his calls was a foreign concept. It was uncharted territory, but he loved a challenge.

  He jiggled the mouse to wake his computer and searched for “flower delivery.” He could have Tracey send them, but doing it himself seemed more personal. It took him over twenty minutes to find the perfect arrangement and another twenty to figure out what to put on the card.

  In the end, he settled for a simple, trite, it was nice to meet you message. He could ramp up the romance factor after he figured out if she was even interested in him. He assumed she’d still be at her cousin’s house and had them set for delivery that evening.

  An hour and a half later, Phil burst through the door, a scowl on his face. “Ugh, what a nightmare. Whoever recommended this woman should be fired for lying.”

  Sam checked his Bulgari, which showed a little after eleven. Phil must have dumped the new employee early. He saved what he was working on and stood to stretch his back.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Well, when I first saw her, I was like, damn, she’s hot. You know, in a perfectly respectable, she’s a coworker, just an observation, type of way.” Sam rolled his eyes and made a rolling motion with his hand for Phil to get on with it.

  “She seemed all right at first, nice enough, but as soon as we started talking to other people, the ice queen came out—real bitchy and bossy.”

  “Does she know her shit? And will she affect the dynamics of the group?” The Denali project was a huge deal for the company. He was working with the team personally and wanted only all-star players.

  “We were told she’s the best graphic designer the company has. Of course, we were also told she was easy-going, friendly, and accommodating. She was the go-to person everyone counted on in the San Fran office.”

  “Who recommended her?”

  “I’d have to look at the file again. I’ll let you know. The weird thing is, she didn’t seem all that comfortable being bitchy. There were a couple of times where I swear, she wanted to smile or laugh but held back. I tried to open a door for her, and she told me she was perfectly capable of getting it herself.” He mimicked a high, prissy voice.

  “Was it the really heavy one that leads over to the annex?” Sam asked. Even he thought that door was heavy.

  “Yep.” Phil laughed. “And I can’t say it didn’t make me smile when she struggled with it.”

  “You’re terrible.” Sam shook his head. “Come on, Mr. Chivalrous, let’s go eat.”

  They grabbed their jackets and let Tracey know they’d be back in an hour or so.

  ***

  Geez, who knew being a bitch would be so taxing? Annie was sitting in her new office, surrounded by empty, dark wood bookcases and a ginormous L-shaped desk, half of which could be raised in case she wanted to work while standing. A drafting table sat awkwardly in the corner, clearly not part of the original office layout. Since the invention of CAD, few designers used them, but it was a nice touch and showed that someone had put some thought in to her arrival. The office had probably belonged to someone else, and they were just making it graphic design friendly for her.

  The office chair was as elegant as it was comfortable. She sank into it and tipped her head back, exhausted from having to watch everything she did and said all morning. She’d have to get used to everyone calling her Annabelle. Twice she’d failed to respond when Phil addressed her using her formal name.

  Annabelle. She didn’t much care for the name, but it sounded more professional and gave her a thin layer of anonymity. Nobody would mistake chubby, mousy, brown-haired Annie for thin, blond, bitchy Annabelle. If her ex ever came looking, his description of her would not match what she’d become.

  Annie had jumped at the opportunity to move to Washington State. She’d been looking for a way to leave San Francisco ever since her husband, now ex-husband, Wayne, had gone to pris
on almost three years ago. She began her self-transformation not long after his sentencing, but up until a few weeks ago, most of it had been internal.

  In San Francisco, she had inadvertently become the office slave. Anyone and everyone who had an undesirable task would ask Annie for help because she never said no.

  They all thought of her as exceptionally kind and helpful, which she was, but she also had no confidence and no idea how to stand up for herself. Though she’d become more self-assured in the last few years, it was hard to break out of a role she’d been stuck in for so long. And while they appreciated her willingness to always help out, she often felt taken advantage of.

  Life at home had been the same. Wayne had no respect for her and knew he could boss her around to get whatever he wanted. He was tolerable most of the time but was also hot-headed and sometimes unpredictable. Those qualities earned him a three-year prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter after he accidentally killed a man in a bar fight.

  Between getting out of that office and putting hundreds of miles between her and Wayne, the decision to move north was a no-brainier. Leaving gave her a fresh chance to start over, and she couldn’t wait to reinvent herself and spread her wings.

  To save herself from becoming the office lackey again, she’d rebranded herself as Annabelle, the snobby, unapproachable newcomer who, she hoped, no one would want to talk to, let alone ask for help. That way, she could just keep her head down, do her own work, and let everyone else worry about themselves.

  She opened her eyes and looked around. The walls were a soothing moss green, and live plants were scattered here and there. A brand-new, top of the line computer sat on the corner of the enormous desk and two twenty-seven-inch monitors filled the standing desk. Two leather chairs sat opposite her desk. Definitely a step up from her last digs. She couldn’t believe she was actually here.

  She walked to the bookcase and moved one of the plants to her desk. While she was adjusting the placement, trying to figure out where it looked best, a small, timid-looking young woman popped her head in after giving a light knock on the open door.

  “Hello, Ms. O’Neill? My name is Beckie Sullivan. I’m Mr. Cooper’s admin assistant, but I was supposed to come over and see if you need anything. Supplies, or directions to the cafeteria?” She was hunched over and spoke so quietly Annie could barely hear her.

  Annie immediately recognized her former self and couldn’t bring herself to use her alter ego with this girl. Being nice to this one person, this one time, couldn’t hurt.

  “Thanks, Beckie. I was just getting hungry. Do you have plans for lunch? If you show me to the cafeteria, I’ll buy.” She smiled.

  Beckie’s head snapped up, and her eyes went wide. “What?” she exclaimed in surprise. “I mean, um, sure, okay.” Clearly, no one had ever offered to buy the girl lunch.

  “Great. You ready then?” Annie picked up her purse.

  “I usually don’t leave for lunch until noon.” She cast a furtive look to her desk and then her watch. Annie looked at her own watch and noted it was five minutes till noon.

  “But they asked you to see what I need, right? Well, I need to be escorted to the cafeteria. I’m horrible with directions. By the time we get there, it will be close enough to noon that we may as well eat. I’ll cover for you if anyone says anything.” Annie winked.

  “Okay.” Beckie hesitated, then stated more strongly, “Okay, yeah, let’s go.” She stood a little straighter and led the way. Annie smiled at her back and followed her out of the office.

  An elevator ride, a couple of right turns, and no fewer than five directional signs later, they arrived.

  Annie laughed. “Well, so maybe I could have found this by myself, but it never hurts to be sure.” Beckie covered a giggle with her hand.

  The second they entered the cafeteria, the heavens opened, and the angels sang. Annie was assaulted by a sinful, familiar smell. She inhaled deeply and sighed. “Holy cow, is that cookies I smell? How divine.” Annie had an intense and severe love/hate relationship with cookies. And doughnuts. Well, and muffins. It was why she could never lose those last five pounds.

  “Oh yes, ma’am. The cookies here are positively the best. They bake them on-site, so they’re fresh every day.” Beckie’s eyes lit up, and Annie smiled. A girl after her own heart.

  “Awesome.” Annie licked her lips in anticipation. “What’s your favorite?” She’d talk to her about the “ma’am” stuff later.

  “Well, I’ve tried each type, and they’re all fantastic, but my favorite is the white chocolate macadamia nut.”

  “I’ll have to try that then.” Beckie beamed as they got in line to order.

  Thirty minutes later, Annie sat back and pretended to be in deep thought. Beckie was sitting across from her, and on the table between them were twelve different cookies, laid out reverently in a three-by-four grid. Each cookie missing one bite.

  “Don’t leave me in suspense. What’s the verdict?” Beckie leaned forward, her eyes glued on Annie, waiting.

  “Well, you were right. They’re all delicious. I’ll probably have to try them again, several times, to be sure.” They both laughed. “But if I had to buy only one, which is what I must do from now on,” she said sternly, “I would have to go with…the peanut butter chocolate chip.”

  “Oh, good choice, ma’am. Good choice.”

  Annie took a final sip of her Diet Coke, wadded up her sandwich wrapper, and noticed Beckie staring at the cookies.

  “If you don’t mind the fact that I’ve taken a bite out of these, you’re welcome to take them home,” Annie offered.

  “Oh no, ma’am. I couldn’t.” She looked around as if there might be someone watching who wouldn’t approve.

  “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t eat all these, and I’d just end up throwing them out. Please.” She knew Beckie’s type. She wouldn’t do anything for herself, but she’d do it in a heartbeat if she thought she was helping someone else.

  “Okay. That’s so nice of you. I was thinking my mother might be able to eat the sugar cookie. Would you mind if I took that one home to her?”

  “Of course. Take the macadamia nut too, since that’s your favorite. Does your mother have allergies or something?” She was curious about the “might be able to eat.”

  “Well, no. She’s sick. Has been for a long time. Lately, she doesn’t have much of an appetite and has a hard time keeping most things down. I was thinking the sugar is probably the blandest, and she might enjoy it.” She looked away and was practically squirming in her seat, clearly uncomfortable talking about it.

  “Why don’t you take the snickerdoodle, oatmeal, and plain peanut butter too. Those might work.”

  In the end, they divvied them up evenly and put them in to-go bags. It would give Annie something to look forward to after her next big hurdle of the day—the one o’clock meeting with Sam MacDonald.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Annie made a quick pit stop at the ladies’ room, powdered her nose, and rushed to the conference room. Assuming Sam would sit at the head of the table, she claimed a seat as far away as possible. She poured herself a glass of water from a fancy pitcher set on a silver tray and guzzled it nervously.

  The ache in her stomach was either nerves over seeing Sam again or all the cookie bites she’d eaten. Ever since Phil had mentioned in passing this morning that she would be able to meet Sam later today, she’d been pondering how things would go down.

  Technically, she hadn’t lied to him. He’d never asked about her new job or if she knew who he was. She wasn’t sure he would see it that way, though.

  She’d thought about him over the weekend. A lot. He was so different from what she’d expected. She was embarrassed to admit that she’d pegged him as a handsome, rich asshole who thought he was better than everyone else because he had money and prestige.

  It turned out he was much more down to earth and “normal” than she assumed. He didn’t flaunt who he was or that he was ub
er-rich, he was polite to the waitress and the taxi driver, and he either downplays or doesn’t realize how completely, drop-dead gorgeous he is.

  She’d seen him speak a few times at company events, and he’d come across as larger than life. Magazine covers of him showed a powerful, verging on arrogant, multimillionaire. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that he was just a regular guy. When he called and left two messages, she’d panicked. Calling back was not an option. Once he found out she worked for him, he would probably see her actions as deceptive. She just hoped he was professional enough not to fire her on the spot.

  She had to get her bitch face back on. Since this wasn’t a personality she was familiar with, she’d been pulling from things she’d seen on TV and in the movies. She’d have to rent some more this weekend and practice scowling in the mirror. Tamping down her natural inclination to smile at everyone was proving more difficult than she thought. If only she’d taken more acting classes. Mrs. Olson’s high school drama class hadn’t prepared her for this.

  It was five minutes to one, and others started filtering in. Too engrossed in their phones or chatting with each other, no one noticed the new girl. She kept her head down, pretending to look through her notes. She had done her homework on this project and was very excited at the opportunity to be involved in it. If done right, it could take Samatrix to the next level.

  She felt him walk in. Everyone did. The air in the room shifted, and all eyes turned to him. They greeted him with friendly hellos. He singled out a few and went to shake their hands. Everyone seemed to genuinely like him.

  Right at one, Phil got everyone’s attention and began the meeting. Showtime. Annie sat ramrod straight, bitch face on, and waited.

  “Hey, everybody. Glad you all could make it. It was quite a feat to get everyone here at the same time. Appreciate some of you shifting things around.

  “The project is moving along nicely, and since we’re getting closer to launch, this will be the first of what will now be weekly meetings regarding this project. Not everyone will have to attend all of them, but please block the time from now on to make sure you’re available in case you’re needed. We’ll meet again with the entire group next month.