A Proposal for the Officer

by Christy Jeffries

  “It went great for the preliminary rounds. A couple of minor glitches to work out but our software team is on top of it.”

  “Have them meet with the graphic artists to go over—”

  “They’re already on it, Boss Man,” Angela interrupted.

  “What about the negotiations with the record label to let us use that song for the intro to ‘Zombies vs. Alien Pirates’?”

  “The legal department is drawing up the contracts this week.”

  He made a right turn onto the long dirt driveway leading to the house Kane had refurbished last year. Kaleb wasn’t ready to call it a night quite yet, though. An unexplained restlessness simmered in his belly and he reached for his tablet on the passenger seat. He pulled up his electronic calendar on the screen as he steered the truck with one hand. “Where are we at with those new health care benefits for the administration staff?”

  “They decided that they’d rather have a sushi chef in the cafeteria than affordable insurance, so HR is actively screening applicants at every Japanese restaurant in the greater Seattle area.”

  “Really?” Kaleb jerked his head up, stopping in front of the barn that had been converted into a garage.

  “No, Kaleb. Not really. But I left a very good-looking date and a warm cup of sake so I could step outside of Sensei Miso’s and take your call.”

  Angela had been the first person Kaleb hired when he’d started Perfect Game Industries, which meant that she’d been with him since before he could legally drink alcohol and, therefore, felt free to give him her opinion—along with any other unsolicited advice she deemed suitable. Funny how in his quest to start a business that was completely independent of his family, he hired the one person who acted like his long-lost big sister all the time.

  Which was probably why he sounded less like an authoritative boss and more like a petulant little brother when he replied, “You could’ve said as much when you answered the phone.”

  “Kaleb, you and I both know that my salary more than compensates me for these after-hours calls. But you’re supposed to be on vacation. That means that all your vice presidents and department directors are getting a vacation from you micromanaging us.”

  “I’ve never micromanaged anyone in my life,” Kaleb shot back, using his finger to scroll through his online notes to see if there was anything he’d missed regarding the marketing staff.

  “Whatever you say, Boss Man.” Angela’s tone wasn’t the least bit deferential.

  “You don’t know micromanagement until you’ve spent a day with the Chatterson family.”

  “If that’s an invitation, I’m calling the company pilot right now and telling him to fuel up the Gulfstream.”

  “Perfect. Tell him that when he drops you off, he can take me back with him. Actually, bring that new admin assistant from accounting with you. I hear he’s been angling for your job since he started. I bet he’ll be glad to know that the position is finally opening up.”

  “You mean the one who wore the Bobby Chatterson retro jersey to the company roller-skating party last month? Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t be above taking a bribe from your old man, either.”

  “Are you done with the sarcasm?” Kaleb asked. If he wanted to deal with people giving him a hard time, he’d drive back to Kylie’s house. Or even to Molly’s. How did he always inevitably surround himself with so many know-it-all women?

  “You started it,” Angela pointed out. “Seriously, though, Kaleb. You’ve hired the best of the best to work for you. The least you could do is trust us to handle things while you enjoy your vacation.”

  Kaleb would hardly call this trip to Sugar Falls a vacation. He’d much rather be at the office dealing with things himself, rather than delegating. But he’d made a promise to his parents to at least try.

  Just like he’d made a promise to a petite, blue-eyed blonde that he’d keep her secret safe. He looked at the digital calendar on his smartwatch. Nine more days to go.

  Chapter Four

  Molly had only been in Sugar Falls for seventy-two hours, and already she knew why the locals didn’t go to the restaurants on the weekends. She took a tentative sip of her coffee minus the cream and sugar—thank you very much, unreliable pancreas—as Hunter swiveled in the counter stool next to her, trying to locate a customer he might know from school or the Little League field.

  “Man, this place is packed for a Monday!” Her nephew seemed intent on not using his inside voice.

  “It’s Memorial Day weekend, bud.” She handed him one of the laminated menus with the Cowgirl Up Café logo printed on the front.

  “I told you we shoulda gone to the Donut Stop. At least there we could’ve run into someone we actually know.”

  Yeah, that was the exact reason why Molly’d shot down his suggestion first thing this morning. Well, that and the fact that she wouldn’t have been able to order anything other than a starchy, cream-filled sugar bomb. She hadn’t been back to Duncan’s Market since Friday and Hunter had already exhausted the supply of leftover pizza for his past two breakfasts.

  She was supposed to be the fun aunt. The aunt with no rules. The aunt who all the nieces and nephews begged to come chaperone their school dances or to take them and their friends on tours of Blackhawk helicopters. Or at least she would have been if she ever spent some quality time with any of them.

  She’d like to think she’d been mostly fun this weekend, going hiking and kayaking and bike riding. But she’d also been feeding her growing twelve-year-old nephew a steady diet of canned soup, which was about the least exciting thing on the planet to eat.

  “Finally!” Hunter all but shouted over the noise of the crowded restaurant. “Hey, Kaleb, there’s a spot right here!”

  Molly’s shoulders froze, her coffee mug suspended halfway between the Formica counter and her clenched jaw. She should’ve gone to the Donut Stop and risked a maple-glazed-induced coma. Her pride forbade her from turning around to make eye contact with Kaleb, thereby encouraging him to accept Hunter’s invitation to sit by them. But her curiosity told her pride to go pound sand.

  That zapping electrical current shot through her body again. She shouldn’t have looked.

  He was still wearing those serious glasses, paired with jeans that were meant to look sloppy but probably cost more than her officer’s mess dress uniform—which was the most expensive thing she owned. His green T-shirt displayed a replica of the blueprints for the Millennium Falcon, and Hunter immediately commented on their apparent shared love of Star Wars as Kaleb warily approached.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me joining you guys?” Given the way his eyes were fixated on her face, he was directing the question toward her.

  But Hunter answered before she could. “Heck, no. Hurry up before one of the tourists tries to snake this spot.”

  The waitress was possibly new, her gaze darting back and forth between the counter and the booths as though she didn’t know who to help next. Her turquoise Cowgirl Up Café T-shirt seemed way too tight and didn’t go with the long, flowing skirt. Molly remembered her high school job at a fish and chips place near Groton, Connecticut, when her parents had been stationed at the military base there. On her first day, she’d been tossed an oversize orange-and-blue striped polyester dress that smelled like battered grease and Atlantic cod and had the name “Dolores” stenciled on the front.

  She felt this woman’s pain. Thank God Molly had become a pilot, because she had sucked at every job she’d ever had before enlisting. Ugh! Did that mean that if she couldn’t fly planes, she’d have to go back to waitressing? To being around all this delicious food and not being able to sample a single bite?

  When Monica—at least that what the waitress’s name tag read—finally made her way to them, she fumbled with her notepad and barely made eye contact before asking to take their order.

  “You gotta get one of their
cinnamon rolls, Aunt Molly,” Hunter said. “They’re world famous.”

  “As good as that sounds, I think I’m going to get the veggie omelet.” She tried to ignore her nephew’s gagging expression.

  “Would you like hash browns or home fries with that?” Monica asked.

  Even with Hunter sitting between them, and at least fifty other diners in the surrounding area, Molly could clearly hear Kaleb’s swift intake of breath. She zeroed in on his disapproving scowl.

  “What?” Molly asked.

  “Potatoes are a starch, which basically converts into sugar as soon as it hits your digestive tract.”

  “They’re also a vegetable. I’m sure a couple of bites would be fine.”

  “Look.” Kaleb pointed to something on the menu before suggesting, “How about the sliced tomatoes?”

  The waitress, who, up until that point, had looked as though she’d rather be anywhere that didn’t require social interaction, lifted one of her eyebrows at Molly and gave her that look women give each other to silently ask, Are you really going to let this guy talk to you like that?

  Each fiber of Molly’s soul wanted to fight back and order every single potato product they served—which would’ve been quite a meal considering they were in the great state of Idaho. But she ignored the throbbing vein in her temple and only mildly defied him by forcing out the words, “I’ll take the cottage cheese.” And then in an effort to prove to this stranger that the controlling man sitting next to them wasn’t the boss of her, she added, “And a side of bacon.”

  When Kaleb ordered the cinnamon roll French toast, Molly shot him the dirtiest look she could manage. It might’ve been juvenile, but it was either that or risk giving Hunter another IOU for his swear jar.

  “I thought you guys were friends,” her nephew said once Monica left to get Kaleb’s orange juice.

  “I don’t know if I’d say we were—” Kaleb broke off when Molly drew a finger across her neck.

  “Of course we’re friends, Hunter.” Molly held the tight smile as her nephew looked back and forth between them. She prayed her jaw didn’t crack.

  “Oh, I get it,” the boy finally said. “My mom and Cooper used to argue like that before they got married.”

  “We’re not arguing,” Kaleb’s mouth said, while his eyes added, Nor are we getting married.

  Not that she needed him to spell it out. But clearly, Hunter did, because the twelve-year-old didn’t look convinced.

  “That’s also what my mom and Cooper used to say.” Hunter’s knowing smirk was enough to make Molly sink down in her seat as she bit back an argumentative response.

  * * *

  Oddly enough, that wasn’t the most awkward breakfast Kaleb had ever had. Even when he’d grabbed the check, only to have Molly tear the paper in two when she wrestled it out of his grip, he’d only been mildly annoyed. Too bad the business owners in Sugar Falls hadn’t caught on to SmartPay; otherwise, he could’ve paid the bill with a simple tap on his watch.

  In fact, the woman seemed to bring out his competitive spirit, a Chatterson trait that always seemed to intensify whenever he was in the same city as his antagonistic siblings. Plus, seeing her get all flustered and defensive every time she thought Kaleb might slip and say something was rather entertaining.

  Most of the women he went out with were overly agreeable, always putting him—and his bank account—on a pedestal. Fortunately, the novelty of dating a billionaire wore off as soon as they realized Kaleb spent more time inside his company’s headquarters than he did jet-setting around the world, making social appearances. So it was an interesting change of pace to be sharing a meal with an attractive female who wasn’t trying to impress him or talk him into taking her shopping or to a swanky, new restaurant.

  Actually, Kaleb got the impression that Molly couldn’t wait for him to leave. They’d barely walked outside the café when Hunter invited him over to play video games. Kaleb was tempted to accept, if only to see Molly squirm some more.

  “I thought we were going to head into Boise today to see that new superhero movie,” Molly told her nephew.

  “Superhero movie?” Kaleb asked. He knew exactly which one she was talking about because he’d been an adviser on set to Robert Downey, Jr., and had been invited to the premiere a few weeks ago. “Could you be a little more specific?”

  “You know.” Molly rolled her wrist in a circle. “The one where the guy wears that suit and he fights that bad guy who is trying to destroy that thing.”

  Hunter slapped a palm to his forehead. “He’s called Iron Man.” Then the kid looked at Kaleb. “You wanna come with us?”

  “I wish I could.” And he was surprised to realize that was the truth. He’d love to sit by Molly in a dark air-conditioned movie theater, sharing a hot bucket of buttery popcorn... Wait. Was she supposed to eat popcorn? He pulled out his phone to ask his voice-operated search engine, then saw the two sets of eyes eagerly awaiting his response to the original question. Although each set looked hopeful for opposite answers.

  “Actually, I can’t,” he finally said, and Molly let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m supposed to go with my family on some sort of ATV tour this afternoon.”

  Her look of relief suddenly turned to one of blanket envy. He recognized the expression from twenty minutes ago when she was staring at the maple syrup dripping off the cinnamon roll French toast he was eating, looking like she wanted to stab him with her fork so that she could lick his plate clean.

  Just then, Hunter waved at a kid getting out of an SUV down the street. “That’s Jake Marconi. Hold on a sec, I’m gonna go tell him something.”

  The boy left Kaleb standing there alone with his aunt.

  “I’ll give you ten dollars to switch with me this afternoon,” Molly said under her breath, her nephew barely out of hearing distance.

  “I’d gladly switch for free,” Kaleb replied. “But my dad keeps accusing me of avoiding my family. Trust me. I’d much rather see the movie again than bounce along an overgrown trail, hanging on to some four-wheeled motorcycle for dear life.”

  Her face was incredulous. “Are you kidding? Who’d want to sit and watch a bunch of fake action on the screen when you could be out there living it?”

  “Someone who doesn’t want to spend the evening on his sister’s sofa with a heating pad wedged under his back.” Not that Kaleb was worried about a flare-up from his old surgery, but it was obvious that an adrenaline junkie like Molly—or at least like most pilots—wouldn’t understand that some people preferred to get their excitement the virtual way.

  “Hey, Kaleb.” Hunter ran back to them, another boy on his heels and a woman trying to keep up behind them. “This is my friend Jake. I told him you’d sign his copy of ‘Alien Pirates: Martianbeard’s Redemption.’”

  “Sorry for imposing on you like this,” Jake’s mother said when she caught up to them. She pulled a plastic case out of her purse. “But my son heard you were in town and has been carrying this video game around in the hopes that we’d run into you and could get your autograph.”

  “Of course,” he said as the mom handed him a Sharpie. He cleared his throat, mostly embarrassed that Molly was watching the entire encounter, but secretly hoping she was slightly impressed. Other women would be, but Molly was turning out to be unlike anyone else he’d ever met.

  Mrs. Marconi, as if suddenly realizing someone else was standing there, held out her phone to Molly. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

  “That’s my aunt Molly,” Hunter explained to everyone. “You might’ve seen her when she and Kaleb picked me up at baseball practice on Friday night. We were just having breakfast together.”

  Even to Kaleb’s ears, the kid was laying it on a bit thick with the implications of how well they were acquainted. But he knew how twelve-year-old boys talked when they wanted to impress their friends. Unf
ortunately, Molly’s face turned scarlet and she tried to hide it behind the phone as she held it up for a picture. She didn’t even count to three or tell them to say cheese before quickly tapping the shutter and telling Hunter, “C’mon, bud. We better get going if we don’t want to be late for that movie.”

  Kaleb didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her and was left standing with Jake and his mom, who was possibly an even bigger video game fan than her son. If only his assistant could see him now. Take that, Angela. Some people might want his brothers’ autograph on balls and team jerseys, but there were also people in this world who wanted his. Maybe he should call his director of marketing and look into producing more memorabilia.

  Unfortunately, death by ATV would be preferable to all the personal questions Mrs. Marconi was soon launching his way. She wanted to know how long he’d be in town and how well he knew Maxine Cooper’s sister. Kaleb tried to direct the conversation back to Jake and level eight of “Pirate Space Blasters.” After about two minutes—which felt like two hours—he tapped on his watch and said he had an important conference call to get to.

  Still driving his dad’s truck, Kaleb slowly took the road to his sister’s house. He didn’t even notice that he hadn’t activated his Bluetooth or punched in coordinates onto the navigation screen. He was too busy remembering the way Molly had looked at that syrup, wondering how his body would react if she looked at him the same way. So maybe the breakfast had been a bit awkward. But in a good way.

  There definitely could’ve been worse ways to spend his morning.

  * * *

  When they got back from seeing the movie in Boise, Molly followed Hunter into Maxine and Cooper’s house. They’d moved after they found out they were having a baby and would need something bigger than the two-bedroom apartment in town.

  Her sister looked even more pregnant than she had on Friday morning when she and Cooper had left town. Hunter didn’t seem to mind his mother’s increasing belly as she held the boy in a firm hug and told him how much they’d missed him.