by Jami Wagner
I’m going to get my job back and never let my dad down again. That’s the goal, and I won’t let anything get in the way of making my career the one I deserve it to be.
Beth
The scent of evergreen wafts in front of me as I wait behind Ann’s, the receptionist, desk. A man in a suit has his back to me, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he is my “attempted” one-night stand. Wow. Now I’m imagining him. This is not a good sign. It’s not even nine a.m. yet.
“Mr. Mitchell asked that I give you a tour and show you where your office will be. It’s nothing grand, but it’s where we put all our new employees. Once you hit the ninety-day mark, we’ll move you to a room with a view.” Ann beams at me and I reciprocate. She did say once I hit the mark, so I think it’s safe to say she believes I’ve got this.
“Follow me.” She waves her hand as she takes off down a long hallway. Offices on the left have windows and on the right there are cubicles. Please, don’t give me a cubicle.
I move to follow her when a deep-throated chuckle halts me. Is that…? Noooo. I look behind me, but the guy still has his back turned. Shit. That sleezeball must have done a number on me if I think I can hear him now, too.
“So this will be yours.” It’s on the left. I pinch my lips together to hide my smile. I have an office, with a small window no less. This makes it like super official. Look at Beth everyone, all grown up. Will I get a nameplate and my own phone? And yes, I hope I get business cards.
I step inside, not caring even the slightest that this space is about one-fourth the size of all the other offices. A metal desk sits in the middle, meaning my back will face the window. The walls are white, and only one has anything on it. It’s a framed picture with two giant M letters diagonal from each other. The words Mitchell Marketing is printed in small letters at the bottom.
The company’s logo.
“What’s with the extra door?” I ask. It reminds me of conjoining rooms in a hotel.
“You’ll be working directly with Mr. Mitchell’s nephew, Maverick.” She clears her throat and pinches her lips together. I almost want to laugh at her failure to hide her smile. “The adjoining offices make work easier. You’ll see,” she says with a wink.
“Is he a coach of some kind?” Why would I be paired with him?
“No, he’s also under a ninety-day trial.”
I’m working against family?
Fuck.
“When will I get to meet him?” I need to see what I’m up against as soon as possible.
“This afternoon, at the meeting where you and the others will be introduced to everyone.”
“Others?” I’m trying my best not to show my clear concern. I’m also struggling not to let the word fuck slip every time she reveals something that’s beginning to make my nerves shoot out the window.
“You, Maverick, and Mr. Mitchell’s son, Austin,” she says, and I don’t miss the sad smile she fails to hide.
Double shit. There is no way I’m going to make the cut. I can’t compete with family. It’s like I’m being set up for failure.
“That sounds … wonderful,” I say and when Ann laughs and pats my shoulder, heading for the door. At least one person will understand my sarcasm.
“Anything I need to do before then or anything I need to know?” I ask.
“Oh yes.” She thumps her forehead with her palm. “Sam from HR will meet you within the hour to go over new hire paperwork. I’d try to complete it all before the meeting; the Mitchells will more than likely want to jump right into work on the new client you three are to represent today.”
“I can’t wait,” I say, and this time, there is no sarcasm. I really am looking forward to working here. I just have to show them I am the best and everything will be fine.
“One thing you should know about Maverick.” She hesitates in the doorway. “He takes his work extremely seriously.” Her voice is soft and kind, almost like a mother asking for you to be patient with her child.
“Well, then, we will get along great,” I tell her.
“I sure hope so,” she says with a tight-lipped, forced smile. “Enjoy your morning and welcome to the company.”
I watch as she leaves before exploring my work space. I slip off my jacket and look behind the door. No hook, but shit yeah, a mirror.
I look smart.
I twist to the left. Looks good. I twist to the right. Looks good, too. My heather-gray pencil skirt and cream sleeveless frilly blouse give the illusion that I have more sexy curves than I ever thought I would have in my life, and my boring black heels enhance the good all that running at the gym has done for me.
My hair is curled down to the middle of my back—I haven’t done anything other than straighten it in years. My makeup is the best I’ve ever seen, and I honest to god don’t even look like me. Jeans, t-shit, and Converse. That’s me. This, the woman looking back at me, is Beth 2.0.
I take my seat behind my desk and take a deep breath. I have ninety days to show these people that I am the right woman for this position.
First rule and probably the most important: do not say shit, fuck, or any other of my favorite foul words. I no longer work full-time in a bar setting, and I pray for all those who are willing to help me control my swearing habit.
Second, smile. It’s not that I lack the ability to form this feature on my face, but really, I should do this more. Third, always remember my please and thank yous—this one will probably be the easiest for me. My parents—as messed up as they can be—raised me with manners. Fourth, make friends but don’t seem so outgoing that people think I’m here more to socialize than I am to work. I need my coworkers to enjoy being around me. If they like me, perhaps they’ll keep me.
This is just like the first day of school. Except this time around, I’m willingly putting myself in a “you don’t know anyone, but you’re going to be great” situation.
I press my lips together to hide my smile and pull my phone from my purse. I don’t care how unprofessional this is, but I have to send my girlfriends, Sara, Kelsey, and Sky, a picture of my office. Better send one to Abby, too. Then I’ll start the paperwork that will lead to the best career ever. I’m going to succeed. I just know it.
Chapter Three
Beth
My chair and computer are angled perfectly to my door. Anytime someone walks in, I don’t have to twist, scoot, or lean in any way to see them. I just have to look up. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing every single time a person walks by my door. Not a one stops in, but the movement keeps drawing my gaze, and it’s driving me insane.
I’m not waiting for anyone to greet me. I’m not expecting anyone to come in here and want my opinion right away. However, it would be nice, considering Ann and Sam from HR are the only people I have met so far. I know she said I wouldn’t meet the guys I’m working with—or against depending on how you look at it until this afternoon’s meeting, which is … I click the side of my phone till it lights up with the time—exactly five minutes from now. Aside from the part where I have to be introduced to everyone, I’m eager to be assigned my first project. I’ve done nothing this morning but fill out the typical new hire paperwork. Harassment rules, insurance information, retirement plans, dress work standards. This is definitely the least fun/cool part of the job.
“Hey, Beth, do you want to walk to the meeting together?” Ann asks, poking into my office, leaving only her head and left shoulder visible.
“Yes,” I answer and stand, straightening my skirt and blouse. I grab the notepad she gave me earlier and a pen.
Both Sara and Kelsey are going to go out of their minds with excitement over my new job. We’re all living the lives we talked about as little girls, Sara owning her father’s bar and turning it into a small chain across Wyoming and Colorado now, Kelsey writing her heart out as a bestselling author of supernatural romance, and now me, the marketing girl.
I can’t tell you exactly how I fell in love with marketing, but it had so
mething to do with the fact I watched TV more for the commercials than the actual shows. Skip-It commercials hooked me—kids laughing and skipping one leg at a time, the ball at the end lit up in bright colors. I begged my parents to get me one every night when that commercial came on. Just that thirty-second clip excited me. Eventually, I got a Skip-It for Christmas and I loved it, but then the next cool toy came on television and I was sold. Both on the toy and on what I wanted to do when I grew up. Showcasing something so that every time its name is even mentioned, you smile and think, “Yup, I need to have that.” I want to give that to people.
The conference room is at the end of the hallway. It’s in a large room on the corner of the floor, leaving two walls filled with floor-to-ceiling with windows. The view over the town is incredible. Even though the building is on the outskirts of the eastside of Wind Valley, away from where I live and the bar, I can still see the trees that make up the park in the center of town. Wyoming is such an eye-catching bright and green place. I can’t ever imagine living in a big city and not having access to this type of beauty every day I walk out my front door.
A long table filled with chatting employees sits in the middle of the room. The plush large chairs surrounding it, at a glance, look as though they could seat about thirty people. I follow Ann down the side near the window, nodding and smiling at those already seated as we pass. The door clicks closed loudly just as I take my seat.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” the man says. I glance up to the clock. He’s right on time. I know right away this is Bart Mitchell. His short trimmed white hair and mustache match his online photo perfectly. Right down to the scar above his left eyebrow. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to interview with him because his schedule was too busy around that time. He can’t be much under six feet tall. His suit is a bit snug on his large frame, but something about the way he holds his shoulders back as he scans the group in front of him brings my focus to his eyes. The way they narrow hints that he’s waiting for everyone’s full attention.
“Although we are waiting on a couple more, let’s get started,” he says.
Everybody adjusts in their seats to face the table, pens in hand, ready to take notes. I do exactly as they do.
“First, let’s start by welcoming Beth Moyer to the group. She’s just finished her master’s in marketing, and today she has begun her trial period with Mitchell Marketing along with Maverick and Austin, who everyone already knows. Beth, would you come up here?” He holds out his hand, even though I’m obviously too far to grab it. I stand, unsure of why I have to get up. I’m clearly the only new person here. But I do it anyway, with a smile. So far, so good.
I hold that smile as I walk back down the row of people. My lips are almost shaking with how hard I’m trying to hold the smile. Then the door opens and everyone looks away from me. I follow their gazes to welcome the distraction.
Everything happens in slow motion. My smile falters then my step does, but I’m still walking. My eyes are wide, and my heart is beating at a lightning pace. I can’t peel my eyes off the door.
Fuck.
There, standing in front of me with the biggest grin I have ever seen on a man, is my “almost”one-night stand. I can see his smile and I can see him waving; it’s when his lips start moving that I blink.
“My apologies for being tardy,” he says, directing his attention to Mr. Mitchell.
Holy shit. What is he doing here? I was in Colorado, not here last weekend.
“I’m glad you could join us, Maverick,” Mr. Mitchell greets him. “There is a seat in the back next to Miss Moyer here. I’m just doing a quick introduction before we begin.”
This is Maverick, the one I share an office with? You have got to be fucking kidding me.
Maverick brushes past me, never taking his eyes off mine. He even turns to walk backward as he makes his way to his seat, and dammit, I’m twisted around now, watching over my shoulder.
Shit.
I am so totally and completely screwed.
“Miss Moyer.” Mr. Mitchell’s booming voice is finally able to pull me out of the daze I’ve fallen in. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
I look out at the pairs of eyes now focused on me. My eyes dart immediately to one set and I have to force myself to look away before I can speak.
“My name is Beth Moyer,” I begin, and cringe when my eyes find his again. “I moved to Wyoming at a young age.” Maverick leans back in his chair, resting one ankle over the other knee as he watches me. The smug smirk on his face ignites something inside me. Just because I tried to sleep with him doesn’t mean I have to get all tongue tied over it. I am here for my job and nothing else. Five minutes of distraction is all he gets. From this moment on, he gets nothing from me.
“I graduated from the University of Wyoming Online with my master’s in marketing. I have an intense drive for success, and I believe that all ideas can be made into something that can make history. I have confidence in Mitchell Marketing to encourage me to make those ideas happen for not only myself but those around me. Failure isn’t an option for me, and I enjoy helping others whenever I can, so please, know my door is open to anyone for any reason.” I nod, dismissing myself back to my seat before I’m asked to say more.
Luckily, Mr. Mitchell doesn’t comment on my self-introduction. Instead he thanks me and goes straight into business. It’s the best meeting ever, minus the part where Maverick and I spend most of the hour stealing glances. He with amusement and me with frustration.
Finding a one-night stand was officially the worst idea I’ve ever had, and my morning pep talks are about to have a whole new meaning.
Maverick
I’m a confident man. I do the research, I put in the time, and I make sure my facts are on point. Yet the biggest challenge I think I’ll ever face at this company is sitting right next to me. As if thinking about her nonstop for the last three days wasn’t bad enough. I was thankful to get here this morning for a distraction, ready to regain my focus where it needs to be, but now she’s here. She’s a coworker who will work directly with me. In the office right next to mine. I’ve thought about women before, but never has one captured my attention the way Beth has. There is a chance that this offer to redeem myself just got a little harder.
I’m not some sap who believes in fate, but fuck if her showing up today doesn’t make me start. Maybe my mom had been on to something with her “meant to be” crap. The only downfall now is that we work together. I clearly know better than anyone else how dating a coworker or someone closely related to the business can set you back. And if I don’t choose my actions wisely, Beth could be the biggest setback of all.
Fuck.
When the meeting is dismissed, my uncle asks me to stay behind to have a word. I want to tell him that I’ve heard it all already and that I don’t have time to be reminded of my mistakes once again, but my father wouldn’t like that. As much as I don’t want to admit it, if my father believes working under my uncle is the right move right now, so do I.
When Jeremy, the last employee to leave the conference room, is out of the door, my uncle turns to me. He flicks back the sides of his jacket, placing his hands on his hips as he pins me with a hard stare. His nostrils flair just barely and a wrinkle forms between his eyes.
“Do not mess this up.”
He’s referring to a whole lot more than just work with those five words.
“I won’t.”
“Maverick, I mean it. I want to help your father out, but you have to be willing to do the same.”
“I am. It’s going to be fine.” My attempt to reassure him does nothing.
“You’re going to be sharing an office space with Ms. Moyer. Is that going to be a problem?” he asks.
“No,” I answer quickly and confidently. The way he and my cousin talk to me, you’d think I’d slept with the whole goddamn company.
“She could have picked a job anywhere, but she chose here. Don’t give her the impres
sion that she made the wrong choice.”
I hold back the groan struggling to break free. Being reminded of this one situation is getting old. I’d tell him that, too, but as my superior, that move wouldn’t end well for me and it sure wouldn’t show my father I’m taking responsibility for what I did.
“Whatever happened between the two of you when you walked into this room needs to end here, too,” he says.
“Whoa, she hasn’t even been here five minutes.”
“I don’t care. I’ve seen that look only once before. I better not see it again.”
“What look? When?” I ask, confused and not exactly sure we’re on the same page at the moment.
His brow rises and his head tilts right as he hits me with a stern look.
“You can trust me,” I say, my voice strong as I return the gaze. “My goal is to move myself and the company forward, not back, sir.”
Neither of us moves as we face each other. This happens a lot with my dad, too. Only then, it’s the worst seconds of my life while my father tries to decide whether or not he believes me.
“I’ll meet you all in Beth’s office in ten minutes to go over a few things. The rest of what I’d like you to complete in the next few months will come in an email by the end of the day.” He nods, looking past me. I turn to see Austin with a satisfied grin. It’s like working with a teenager who just wants to stand around and cause drama.
Against my better judgment, I head straight for my office. I close the door behind me and then proceed to open the one that leads to Beth’s. Her hair falls over her shoulder when she quickly looks up. She’s writing something at her desk. I’m curious as to what it is since we haven’t started on anything yet.
I reach her door and close it, too. I twist to face her and find her making her way around her desk. Her hands fidget with her skirt. She’s smoothing it out, but all I see is the curve of her ass better than before. I’m a little taken back at how quickly she is walking toward me, a determination in her eye that only confirms that what I feel toward her is matched all the way.