by Jewel E. Ann
“No shit. Wow! You don’t look it at all.” Parker made a mental note to invest in higher SPF sunblock and buy some whitening strips. She had twelve years to make something of herself and find a job that required fancy dry-clean-only clothes and an Apple Watch.
Sabrina’s smile faded like she’d reached her smile limit for the day. “As I was saying … if you’re interested, I’d like to hire you to be my personal assistant.”
A job. Sabrina Westman offered her a real job. She traveled, so Parker would travel. She wore fancy white blouses, so Parker would wear them too. She wore an Apple Watch, of course Parker would need one too—so they could sync their calendars, message each other, and calculate how many steps they took to keep their professional asses in shape.
The opportunities reached infinity. Sabrina had to know some influential people. Working with her felt like a real chance to open the door to a job in communications that paid well. Parker prepared to dust off her four-year degree.
“Yes! I’d love to!”
“You would?”
Parker stood corrected. Sabrina managed to find one more smile for the day. The sun had melted her makeup, leaving red lipstick on her perfect teeth and black mascara smeared at the corners of her eyes. In a matter of minutes, the Iowa humidity transformed her from beauty queen to a whore after a blowjob.
“When do I start?” She failed at playing it cool.
“How does tomorrow sound?”
“Perfect!”
“Great. Seven at my house?”
“I’ll be there.”
*
Three years after college, Parker had yet to procure a job that required something more than casual attire.
“Pathetic.” She performed one last surgical scrub that resulted in little success. Her nails were trimmed and clean, but days in the dirt left the skin around them stained. If she didn’t stop scrubbing them, they were going to bleed.
With less than twenty-four hours’ notice, she had to choose between shopping for a few new outfits and getting a manicure. She decided to keep her hands balled into fists for the day and hoped Sabrina and her colleagues would focus on her new blue skirt and light gray, three-quarter-length-sleeve blouse. Of course, she went with closed-toe navy pumps until mani-pedi day.
The Westmans’ modern, two-story house dwarfed Parker’s century-old fixer-up farmhouse in every way. From the moment she stepped onto the marble tile in the impressive foyer, her neck strained to gawk at the blown-glass entry chandelier.
“Your home is simply amazing,” she said in a weak voice. The grandeur of it took her breath away. “The outside is impressive, yet still conservative. But the inside … this is … wow.”
“Thank you, my brother designed it,” Sabrina said with her focus on the contents of her handbag. “Do you have a funeral or something today?”
“Uh … no. Why do you ask?” She rubbed her hands down her skirt.
Sabrina pulled out her compact and applied another layer of red over her plump lips. “You seem a little overdressed for errands. That’s all.”
“Well, I didn’t know what we had planned today.” Parker tugged at the sleeves to her blouse and picked invisible lint from them.
Sabrina’s red dress and silver heels were far from casual. Why was Parker’s attire so out of place?
A laugh escaped Sabrina as she rubbed her lips together while snapping her compact shut and depositing it in a black handbag. “We, my dear, don’t have plans today. I have a meeting then I’m flying to Hong Kong. I’ll be gone for the next five days. On the kitchen counter is a list of things to do today. Give me your cell number, and I’ll have my assistant, Brock, send you instructions for the rest of the week.”
Her words sounded like Chinese, but the part Parker definitely could not have heard correctly was “my assistant, Brock.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“August, I’m leaving. I’ll text you when I land.” She paused her busy hands for two seconds, eyes focused on the top of the staircase. “Lazy ass is probably still asleep.” Sabrina’s blue eyes did that familiar roll Parker had come to associate with most of her comments about her husband—August.
“Sabrina, I thought you hired me to be your assistant.”
She pulled her suitcase to the front door. Parker followed her like a dog waiting for a nibble of turkey jerky.
“I did. Sorry … I know we didn’t have time to discuss payment. Will thirty dollars an hour work? You can use my car to run errands if you’d like. Ask August for his credit card if you need gas.”
Thirty dollars an hour exceeded her expectations. And she should have been doing backflips, but … Brock. Parker needed to know about Sabrina’s assistant Brock.
“But you just told me your assistant Brock would email me.”
She turned on her pointy heel. “Shoot, yes, I almost forgot to get your email and cell number.” Sabrina pulled out her phone and handed it to Parker. “Add yourself as a contact while I take my suitcase out front since my lazy ass husband isn’t—”
“Isn’t what?”
Parker froze when a familiar deep voice sounded behind her. Shirtless Gus pushed past in a pair of jeans, no shoes or socks—also no balding gray hair, old-man gut, or anything remotely repulsive. And he smelled of lingering shampoo and soap.
Dammit!
The expected intimate goodbye between Mr. and Mrs. Westman surpassed chilly and settled into iceberg territory. The wall at Parker’s back refused to camouflage her presence which added to the awkwardness.
Gus shook his head at Sabrina. She rolled her eyes at him. Parker kept her nose down, typing her info into the phone, trying not to stare at shirtless Gus because … wife … married … off-limits. Someone needed to drag shirtless Gus up the stairs for a proper goodbye. Sabrina turned her nose up at the opportunity. In another life, one where she wasn’t president of the “I Hate Cheaters Club,” Parker would have volunteered.
“Here.” Parker handed Sabrina’s phone back to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to press the assistant Brock subject anymore with the thick tension between Mr. and Mrs. Westman.
“Have a safe trip,” Gus said as he came back into the house, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
Sabrina only nodded. Not even a smile.
“Good morning, Parker.” Gus offered a friendly grin as he brushed past her again.
Stealing a quick sniff, her lips twisted into a nervous smile. “Morning,” she whispered as if acknowledging Gus broke an unspoken rule; Sabrina sure thought it did.
“Rags is out back. At least I hope he hasn’t escaped out the broken gate again. Ask August if he’s going to walk him. Otherwise, I need you to do it before you pick up the flowers for Rae.”
“O—kay.”
The door closed behind her as a black Lexus slowed to a stop in the circle drive, leaving Parker befuddled.
Sabrina thought she needed two assistants.
Flowers waited for Parker to deliver them to a woman named Rae.
Archenemies showed more affection toward each other than Gus and Sabrina.
Parker needed to ask Gus about walking Rags and possibly his credit card. Nothing about that felt awkward.
She slipped off her unnecessary heels then found the kitchen and the to-do list.
Pick up flower order from Flowerama and deliver it to Rae with a bowl of chicken and rice soup from one of the local delis. Ask August for the address.
Drop off my dry cleaning that’s in the hamper on the north side of my closet.
Pick up the dry cleaning. Transfer it to my wooden hangers and arrange in order.
Find out why they haven’t treated the yard recently. The dandelions are out of control.
Buy and wrap three baby gifts and two wedding gifts – check registries.
Find out what August wants for his birthday – purchase, wrap, and text me what it is.
“What. The. Hell?” Parker whispered to herself. Sabrina didn’t hire her as an
assistant; she hired her for an errand girl. No dress clothes required. No traveling outside of a fifteen-mile area. No Apple Watch. No chance for promotion—ever.
Thirty dollars an hour. Parker could do it. If she could manage to extinguish her fiery ego, she would see that working for Sabrina beat the minimum-wage receptionist job at the chiropractor’s office. Then again … they were offering free adjustments and spinal scans.
Chapter Five
Gus. He seemed to be a major part of Parker figuring out how to accomplish the day’s tasks. She needed to get going, which meant she needed to find him. Creeping up the stairs, she listened for any sign of him.
“Gus?” She flinched, startled by how loud her voice sounded in a house with such tall ceilings.
“Parker.”
She tiptoed down the hallway toward the sound of his voice. Why was she creeping? She didn’t know.
“Gus?” Her tone escalated to a warning. Shirtless Gus wrecked her composure. An accidental glimpse of naked Gus would have obliterated her fragile world.
“Parker.”
She laughed as fully-clothed Gus stepped into view, taking a seat on the bench at the end of a mammoth bed adorned with a gazillion pillows in every shade of pink imaginable.
“Don’t say my name like that. It’s … weird.”
He pulled on one white sock and then the other. “You said my name.”
Maybe Gus abused Sabrina or drank too much or … something unimaginable that explained why his wife showed so little affection. Parker liked him and that sentiment held merit given their brief acquaintanceship and her distrust of men.
She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard when he looked up, catching her shameless visual assessment.
“That’s…” she cleared her throat “…different. I was looking for you.”
“You were looking at my legs.” He stood.
Parker forbid her eyes from looking anywhere but straight into his eyes. But after a few seconds, she failed the stare-off.
“Pfft … you’re wearing old man jeans. Not the same. And I wasn’t looking at them.”
“You were. And how old do you think I am?”
She wasn’t dangerous. He was the dangerous one.
“Your wife is twelve years older than I am, so I assume you’re probably…” her lips twisted “…forty?”
Gus barked out a laugh. “Fucking little ballbuster. I’m six years younger than my wife.”
Younger. Parker didn’t see that coming, but it explained his lack of gray hair or flaccid skin.
“Still six years older than I am, so … old.”
Gus grinned, not at all phased by her attempts to appear uninterested in him. “Well, you found me. Whatcha need?”
After a long blink, she held up the note Sabrina left. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
He cracked another killer smile and slipped on his Cubs cap. “I’m all ears.”
The note became the new safe zone for her eyes. “Are you going to walk Rags?”
“Why would I?”
She risked a quick glance up with a squinted eye. “Um … I don’t know. I’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me to ask you and if you aren’t going to walk him, then I need to do it.”
Amusement grew along Gus’s face. “There’s a half-acre-enclosed area for him. I never walk him. He chases birds and critters, then he passes out for the rest of the day.”
“So …”
“So, tell her I walked him if she asks.”
“But you’re not?”
He crossed his arms over his white T-shirt-clad chest. “No.”
“And … I don’t need to?”
“No.”
“Alrighty then. Next. I need Rae’s address.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “Are you going to ask me ‘why’ about everything I ask you?”
“Probably.” He returned a half smile.
Pressing her lips together, Parker shook her head and returned her focus to the note. “I’m supposed to pick up flowers and then chicken and rice soup from a local deli and deliver them to Rae today.”
“Unbelievable.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and rested his hands on his hips. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Of which?”
“Everything.”
“The whole list?”
“No.” He started down the hall, leaving a trail of invisible aftershave. She chased after him and his scent.
“The flowers?”
“Rae.” He rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs.
“So you’re going to pick up the flowers and get the soup?”
As soon as he reached the kitchen, he grabbed a cola from the Sub-Zero refrigerator next to dark-stained custom cabinetry hanging above white granite countertops. After gulping half of it down, Gus returned his attention to Parker. “Rae is my grandmother. It’s her birthday. She lives in assisted living. I’m not going to have some stranger deliver her flowers and soup.”
Parker tried not to be offended by his words. After all, she was a stranger to his grandmother.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed.
“No.” She shook her head. “No reason to apologize. So, you’ll take care of Rae. Great. What dry cleaner do you use?”
Gus quirked an eyebrow. “Do I look like a guy who sends shit to a dry cleaner?”
“I …” Her nose wrinkled. “I feel like that’s a trick question, so I’m not going to answer it. Let me rephrase my question. Do you know what dry cleaner Sabrina uses?”
He pursed his lips and jerked his head to the right and then to the left.
No. Fabulous.
“No problem. I’ll map out all the dry cleaners in a five-mile radius.”
She ignored his snickering.
“Who treats your lawn?”
“I treat the lawn.”
Her head snapped up. “You don’t hire a lawn care company?”
“Nope.”
How Parker managed to get herself into awkward situations remained a mystery. She drew in a deep breath. “Well, in that case, I need to know the last time you treated the lawn, and I’ll need you to take care of the dandelion overgrowth before Mrs. Westman returns in five days.”
Gus wet his lips and rubbed them together to hide his grin.
“Anything else, Parker?” Her name from his lips evoked mixed feelings. Everything about him evoked mixed feelings.
“Who do you know who’s getting married in the next few months?”
“No one.”
“Babies on the way?”
“Nope.”
“Very helpful.” She shot him a challenging look.
He shrugged and chugged the rest of his cola, tossed it in the pullout recycling bin under the counter, and headed to the back door. “Later.”
“Wait!”
Bent over, tying his brown leather work boots, he glanced back at her. “Yes?”
“What do you want for your birthday?”
He finished tying them, stood erect again, and opened the door. “I want a pony.”
A grown man wanting a pony. What the hell?
“When’s your birthday?”
“Today.”
The door slammed shut.
*
Des Moines had more dry cleaners than one might have thought. As unhelpful as Gus’s lack of knowledge had been to her, Parker couldn’t deny that she wasn’t someone who sent “shit” to the dry cleaner either. However, she found the right one, made the exchange, swapped hangers, and arranged them in order. The right order? Time would tell.
Like a bittersweet and unexpected gift, Assistant Brock messaged her with a list of tedious crap to accomplish before Sabrina returned from China. Having his number, Parker messaged him back hoping he would have some insight to the upcoming nuptials and tiny people entering the world. Earning his coveted number one assistant position, he sent her names, dates, and links to registries. She was grateful and int
imidated at the same time.
Since Gus promised to take care of the flowers and soup for Rae, that left her with some extra time to take Rags for a walk and deal with the dandelion situation that she felt confident the lawn care guy would choose to ignore.
Feeling good about her accomplishments for the day, she clocked out and walked home.
“Coming!” Parker called to the unexpected guest knocking at her door.
“Parker.” Gus held up the birthday card she’d left for him on the counter. “‘Happy Birthday. Enjoy. He’s yours for twenty-four hours,’” he read her words.
“I was supposed to wrap him, but … well, you can plainly see the dilemma I had.” She tugged at her lip and shrugged.
“There’s a pony in my backyard—my backyard that no longer has a single dandelion in it.” Wide, whiskey eyes peered at her as his head jutted forward. “Explain.”
“Come in.” She stepped out of the way.
“I can’t come in. I have a pony to attend to in my backyard.”
“I fixed the gate, so neither Rags or Romeo should get out.”
“Romeo?”
“The pony. Supposedly, he’s good with the mares.”
“Whose pony is he?”
“A friend of a friend situation. A kid who graduated high school with me works at Prairie Meadows. He knows a lot of people who have horses. He found me a pony on short notice. Just a loaner. Don’t get too attached. They’re picking Romeo up by the end of the day tomorrow.”
Gus blinked over and over, lips parted, hands limp at his sides.
“He had surgery on his leg last year, so you can’t ride him. I hope that’s not going to ruin your birthday.”
“Sabrina told you to get me a pony for my birthday?”
“No. She told me to ask you what you wanted. Buy it. Wrap it. And message her what I bought you. I asked, and you said—”
“A pony.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I was—”
“Joking. Being an ass. Whatever. I get it. I’m not an idiot.”
“But you did, in fact, get me a pony.”
“Yes, because your wife hired me under false pretenses then left me with a ridiculously vague to-do list this morning, and then you…” Parker clenched her fists and stepped out the door, toe-to-toe with August Westman; he swallowed hard as she tilted her chin up to him. “…you were no help whatsoever. How can two people be so oblivious to what the other one is doing in their life?”