Catastrophe Queen

by Emma Hart

  Uh… “Depends. Do I have to cook it?”

  He laughed, his whole face lighting up with amusement. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he said, “No, you don’t have to cook it. Just go into Java Hut and pick it up. I’ll call ahead of time and pay for it.”

  “I can do that.” I smiled. “Is that everything?”

  He nodded once. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I stepped out of his office with another smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  “And, Mallory? Good job today. It takes a saint to put up with my cousin for that long.” He grinned right as his phone rang again.

  Dipping my head, I smothered a laugh. “She said the same about you. Goodbye, Mr. Reid.”

  I dropped my hand from the door and headed for the stairs, feeling his eyes on me long after the phone had stopped ringing.

  With any luck, he was looking at my ass and not trying to figure out if he knew me from somewhere.

  And there was something I never thought I’d think.

  ***

  Me: I can’t take this house anymore.

  I slumped forward on the table in the kitchen. Great Aunt Grace and Grandpa had been going at it for two hours, and not even Mom was hiding the Jack Daniels anymore.

  Nope. The bottle was open in the center of the table, and she was nursing a glass of the amber liquid like it was a newborn baby. For real—if this carried on any longer, she was going to put the bottle down her shirt or some shit.

  “Six hours,” Mom said in a tired voice. “They’ve been fighting for six hours. We went for a late lunch at the garden center because your grandfather slept through lunch and they argued the entire time. First, because he’d slept through lunch and Grace was hungry. Then it ended up with them bickering because Grace said he was an old coot who needed to be put down like a dog, then they fought because apparently, she’d once run over his dog who’d then needed to be put down.”

  My phone buzzed with a text as she continued to complain about their arguing.

  I was starting to wonder what was worse: the arguing or her complaining about the arguing.

  Jade: Wanna come over?

  Me: Can’t. I have to work tomorrow, remember?

  Jade: Oh yeah. You’re a real grown-up again.

  Me: Don’t go that far.

  Jade: I wanna hear about your day. I’ll bring wine.

  I eyed Mom’s bottle of Jack.

  Me: You should probably bring Mom some Jack.

  Jade: Is it your relatives or the lack of sex she’s struggling with?

  Me: I’m not talking about this.

  “Mallory, are you listening to me?” Mom snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  I looked up from my phone. “No. I tuned out around the dog thing.”

  She sighed, pouring herself another glass.

  “Shouldn’t you slow down? Don’t you need to cook?”

  Mom glared at me. “You can cook.”

  “That’s debatable,” I said slowly. “I can cook, but I’m not particularly good at it.”

  “Even you can make chicken pasta, Mal.”

  “Again, I can, but that doesn’t mean it’ll taste good.”

  “What did I do in a past life to get stuck with this mess of a family?” She got up, sighing, and shoved her chair toward the fridge. Stepping up onto it, she leaned over it and stretched her arm, reaching into the gray box that housed the potatoes.

  “Mom,” I scolded her, noticing the familiar box in her hand. “You’re not smoking again!”

  She held one finger to her lips and tapped a cigarette out of the box. I pressed my fingers to the center of my forehead as the strike of a match filled the air.

  The acrid scent of cigarette smoke filled the kitchen as my mother moved toward the sink. She leaned forward and pushed the window open, then bent over the sink and blew smoke out of the window.

  “Why don’t you just open the door and smoke outside? It’s bad enough having the choo choo train in the living room without you as well.” I waved my hand in front of my face.

  She glared at me and opened the back door, stepping out into the yard instead. “I swear this is my house.”

  “And I’m paying you rent,” I reminded her.

  “You’re giving me a hundred bucks a month, Mallory.”

  “Do you want me to be able to move back out or not?”

  She pursed her lips together before taking a long drag on the cigarette and turning away from me. I’d offered to pay more, even before I’d gotten my new job, but she’d refused.

  She couldn’t play that card.

  At that moment, there were three loud knocks, and the front door swung open. From where I was sitting, I could see the hall, and I grinned at the sight of my best friend.

  Jade was tall, loud, and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her. Right now, her violet hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swung with every step she took, and her bright-pink lips were stretched into a smile as she waved two bottles of wine.

  “I brought presents!” she sang, kicking the door shut.

  “Is that Jade?” Mom asked, craning her neck to see.

  “Who else walks into this house with wine and announces herself with a song?” I asked dryly.

  Jade grinned, sashaying her way into the kitchen. She stopped dead when she saw my mom smoking. “Helen! Is that a cigarette?”

  “No,” Mom said, moving her arm so it was out of sight.

  Sure. She had a problem with Jade seeing her smoke, but not me.

  I shook my head as Jade put both bottles on the table and grabbed three glasses of wine as if she lived here. Without being asked, she poured three full glasses—not the shit they poured in restaurants—and handed them out to us.

  “Now,” she said, sitting down. “Tell me about your new boss.”

  I groaned, cradling the glass with my hands. “Remember the other day? When I had my interview?”

  “Yeah. You were almost run over by a really hot guy because you were in La La Land.” She tapped her nails that were as purple as her hair against the table. “What about it?”

  I stared at her.

  She darted her brown eyes to look at Mom. “What?”

  “He’s my new boss,” I muttered, immediately swigging from my glass.

  Silence, and then—

  Mom burst into laughter, leaning against the doorframe to steady herself. “The guy who almost ran you over is your new boss? How does that happen?”

  “The universe hates me? I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “Did you mention it?” Jade asked, grinning. “Because that’s funny.”

  I shook my head so emphatically I swear I heard my brain rattling. “No. I most definitely did not tell him. He didn’t mention it either, so I think he doesn’t recognize me.”

  “How can he not recognize you? He could have killed you.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have bright purple hair?” I shrugged. “Trust me—when you’re as hot as he is, a regular-looking brunette like me is nothing special.”

  Jade rolled her eyes as Mom shut the back door. “Regular looking? What are you, Susie from the Walmart counter?”

  “She may as well be if she’s got a crush on her boss,” Mom mused. “Nothing good ever comes from fantasizing about your boss.”

  I balked. “Who said I was fantasizing about my boss?” My voice was squeaky. “I’ve only spoken to him twice. Three times max. I’m not fantasizing about him!”

  Not yet. I mean, the job was still new and the night was still young. Who knew what stupid thing I’d do next?

  Mom sighed and shook her head, picking up the glass of wine Jade had poured. “Not yet. That doesn’t mean you won’t. Working with someone you want to sleep with isn’t a good idea.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Aunt Grace said in a husky voice, shuffling into the kitchen. “I once worked with a hot as hell contortionist, and let me tell you, that was a damn good idea. The positions that ma
n could get his body into would have made the person behind the Kama Sutra blush.”

  Jade hid a smile behind her glass.

  “I don’t think there was a single person behind the Karma Sutra,” Mom said.

  “You’d know, hussy,” Aunt Grace shot back. “Have you been smoking again?”

  “So, tell me about the job.” Jade quickly steered the conversation back to me. “The job, not the boss you’d like to climb like a tree.”

  I glared at her. “It’s good. He was out for most of the day today so it was quiet. He seems to deal with the richer clients, judging by the properties I was pulling today.”

  Sensing that their argument was no longer of interest to us, both Mom and Aunt Grace disappeared into the living room.

  “What kind of rich are we talking?” Jade leaned forward when they’d gone. “Pretty rich, or richy rich rich?”

  “Bit of everything,” I said slowly. “Why? Are you looking for your third boyfriend of the year?”

  She stuck her middle finger up at me. “Mark was never my boyfriend, and Adrian was a jerk. I just didn’t know it until he told me it was time to dye my hair.”

  Yep. That was how my best friend rolled. The only person who was allowed to tell her to do something was, well, me. Even then, it was debatable if she’d listen.

  “But, seriously. Does he need another assistant? I’m a little worn out at my job,” she said, referring to her job as a hair stylist at the only salon in town. Well, the only one I could afford, anyway. “People are tiring.”

  “You’d be worn out at the grocery store,” I pointed out. She was a lot like me in the idea that she was still figuring out what to do with her life.

  We were twenty-five. We probably should have figured it out by now, but nobody was perfect.

  “Yeah, whatever.” She waved her hand. “So, what are you going to do now that Mr. Dreamboat is your boss?”

  “Uh, work?” I raised an eyebrow. “That weird thing I’m paid to do? I know that’s a hard concept for you to grasp every time Mrs. Tolstoy comes into the salon with the latest gossip she overheard at the bar, but some of us do still do it.”

  “Oh, pish.” She snorted and tilted her glass in my direction, eyebrows raised. “I work. One day you’ve got Mrs. Tolstoy coming in for her new color with who said what at the latest coffee morning at the church, and the next you’ve got old Alberta Hennington for a perm and all she wants to talk about is her newest bunion. I take my kicks where I can get them.”

  “Like imagining me fantasizing about my hot new boss?” My eyebrow stayed in its raised position.

  “Exactly like that.”

  “Well, let me tell you,” I said slowly, looking her dead in the eye. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  Jade leaned back, smiling behind her glass. “Famous last words, Mallory. Famous. Last. Words.”

  CHAPTER SIX – MALLORY

  Jade and her ‘famous last words’ could bite me. And when she was done biting me, she could kiss my ass.

  Twice.

  My morning had started precisely how I’d thought it would. Apparently, when I’d set my new alarm, I’d forgotten to set it for every day.

  That was right. I was so bad at adulting I couldn’t even set the alarm correctly.

  Anyway. I’d woken up forty minutes late, meaning my hair that needed a wash was now pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and I’d dry shampooed the shit out of the pony in the hopes nobody would notice it was just this side of leaving a grease stain on my shirt.

  All right, so it wasn’t that dirty, but it probably wasn’t that far off, either.

  If it couldn’t get any worse, there was no coffee thanks to my mom’s horrific hangover, and on the way to work, I’d stopped off at my usual coffee shop.

  Completely forgetting that Cameron Reid had asked me to grab his breakfast on my way in. Of course, that was something I’d forgotten until I was already in the office and behind my desk, so I’d had to run back out.

  He was, just now, walking in the door, and I’d been back all of five minutes.

  At least I’d been able to grab another coffee when I’d picked up his food.

  Silver linings and all that.

  “Morning.”

  I smiled up at my new boss. He was wearing the same, hot as hell light-gray suit he’d worn each time I’d seen him. “Good morning, Mr. Reid.”

  He quirked a brow, his lips tugging to one side. “You can call me Cameron, Mallory. I’m not my father.”

  I blushed. “Okay.”

  “I have to make a quick phone call. Would you mind making me a coffee and bringing it in with my breakfast, please?”

  “Not a problem.” I got up, almost knocking the keyboard off the desk. I slid it back, not willing to make eye contact with him.

  It was too soon for him to know he’d hired a total klutz.

  “Thank you,” he said, amusement tingeing his tone. “I’ll leave the door open for you.”

  I nodded, not looking up until I knew he’d disappeared. My cheeks were burning—over a goddamn keyboard.

  This wasn’t going to end well, was it?

  Making sure not to touch anything else, I edged my way into the kitchen and shut the door behind me. As the coffee machine whirred to life, I removed his bagel from the fridge and stared at me.

  He’d need a plate, but was I supposed to take it out of the paper bag?

  Oh, crap. This was a nightmare.

  I stared at it. Surely he didn’t want me touching his food. I didn’t want to touch his food.

  Wait—why was this an issue? It was a bagel, not his damn penis.

  I put the bag on a plate, shaking my head, and fixed his coffee. Why the hell was I so nervous? It was coffee and a bagel. Was it because of the whole almost running me over thing?

  He was kind enough, from the few words we’d exchanged. With any luck, there would only be a few words right now, and those would be, “Hi, thank you.”

  I was never that lucky. My name literally meant ‘unfortunate.’

  I stirred the sweetener into his coffee and grabbed both the mug and the plate. Somehow, I managed to make it through the door and across the office hall to his open door without tripping over my own feet. God only knew my stomach was flipping uncomfortably with nerves, so that made it an even greater feat.

  At my high school graduation, I’d been so nervous I’d tripped over nothing. Literally nothing.

  Peeking around the door, I saw that Cameron was no longer on the phone. “Knock knock.”

  He looked up, eyes brightening when he saw me. “Come in. Thank you. I’m starving.” He moved a folder on his desk for me to put his things down. “Oh, good. You left the bagel in the bag. One girl kept taking it out, and I had to fire her when I saw her use her nail to scrape earwax out of her ear.”

  I shuddered, taking a step back. “Don’t worry—I promise to always bring it in a bag and never pick my ears.”

  He laughed, sipping his coffee. “How’s the morning been?”

  “Quiet,” I replied, clasping my hands in front of me. “Two phone calls. One from a Mrs. Townsend whose husband is looking for a house with an outdoor workshop and some land. She didn’t have a budget as she was just looking for a ballpark.”

  “Did you send her any?”

  I nodded. “I sent her every property for sale with at least an acre of land and either the outdoor workshop already in place or with a structure that could be easily converted.”

  “Great.” He pulled out the bagel. “Who was the second call?”

  “Oh, uh, my mom.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Not if you live in my house right now,” I muttered.

  He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Um.” I laughed nervously. “My grandfather and great-aunt are here for his eightieth birthday. They’re…temperamental.”

  Cameron laughed quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “That explains so much.”

  “I’m sorr
y?”

  “Yesterday.” He paused. “Casey said you’d had a call from Jemima Carlton and had managed to convince her to call today. She said you either had a toddler or demanding relatives. Something like that.”

  “Oh.” Now, it was my turn to pause. “Jemima Carlton. Shouts a lot, right? Lost the ability to use the word please after the first sentence?”

  He winked at me. “That’s the one.”

  “Well, I can’t wait for her to call back.” I tried my best to keep the sarcasm out of my tone, but I didn’t do a very good job if Cameron’s low chuckle was anything to go by.

  As if on cue, the phone rang, and his chuckle became an all-out belly laugh. “Looks like you’ve tempted fate.”

  I pursed my lips, giving his handsome face my best unimpressed look, and went back to my desk to answer the phone. “Good morning, you’ve reached Cameron’s Reid’s office at Reid Real Estate. Mallory speaking, how can I help you?”

  “Good morning, darling! This is Jemima Carlton. We spoke yesterday.” Her nasally tone was utterly grating, and I had the urge to offer her a tissue to blow her damn nose.

  “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Carlton!” Despite the fact I hadn’t wanted to speak to her, Cameron had forgotten one small point when he’d laughed when the phone had rung: she wasn’t calling to speak to me. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’ve taken a look on that website you’ve got thanks to my grandson, and I’m extremely interested in that lodge in the mountains. Is it still available?”

  “Great,” I replied. “Can you give me the name and I’ll bring up the information?”

  “Barfield Lodge.”

  “Two seconds, please.” I brought the information up on the computer and looked. I found it quickly, thanks to it being the only lodge available. It was beautiful, set in its own pocket of snowy wonderland. “Yes, it’s available.”

  “Wonderful!”

  I swear, she clapped.

  “Is darling Cameron available? I’d love to discuss a viewing.”