by Natalie Rios
Ellie studies me in that eerily quiet way of hers. “Are you interested in Elijah?”
“Who is Elijah?” Brody interrupts.
“No, I’m not interested in Elijah. He’s my cousin’s ex and that would be all sorts of gross,” I explain for Brody’s benefit. “And even if I was interested, Elijah wouldn’t want to date me. Can you imagine the scandal? I mean, he’s a politician and there are naked pictures of me floating around the internet.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Charlotte. You’ve got plenty to offer. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Nudie pics and all,” Drew says.
Aw. He’s such a sweetheart. I can’t help myself. I give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“What I need is a carbon copy of you, Drew.”
Surprised, Drew’s eyes widen. “Me? You hated me when I first married Ellie.”
“Pssh. I didn’t hate you. I was concerned you were marrying her for her money. But you’ve since proven yourself. You are smart, loyal, attractive, and a good father. The perfect man.”
“I know. Remind my wife every day, will you?” Drew teases, earning a poke in the chest from Ellie.
Relationship goals, I tell you.
“Is that all you’re looking for?” Brody asks from beside me.
“Hmm...” I don’t particularly want to elaborate on the subject. Thankfully, Ellie picks up the reins of the conversation.
“And who is this stranger holding my child?”
Whoops. Maybe I should have led with introductions.
“I’m Brody, nice to meet you.” He shakes both of their hands before gingerly transferring Ben over to Drew’s outstretched arms.
“Brody?” Ellie’s eyes immediately light up with recognition. “Isn’t your boss named Brody, Charlotte?”
“One in the same. Though you may know me as Satan.”
Ellie’s jaw drops while Drew laughs. “You know about the nickname?”
“I know everything that goes on around here. I run a tight ship.”
“Okay, Big Brother,” I drawl. “Well, we should probably get going, let you two get to dinner-”
“Wait. Why is Ben’s hair wet? Did you take him swimming?”
“Lake!” The little guy sure picks the most inopportune moment to contribute to the conversation. With that one word, Ellie immediately goes into Mama Bear mode.
“You were in the lake? Was he wearing his vest?”
“Yes.”
“Was he really wearing his vest or are you just saying that?”
“Why would I lie about something like that?” I ask, slightly affronted.
“He was wearing the vest,” Brody intervenes. “And arm floaties. I was with them.”
“Were you, now?” Ellie mutters, sending me a curious look.
“Sorry, my wife gets a little paranoid. Right, honey?” Drew gives Ellie a nudge.
“Paranoid. Yes. Sorry.” Pursing her lips, she cocks a brow before launching into Russian. “You two are babysitting and spending weekends together now?”
I shrug, unsure how to explain the afternoon to her. “He showed up while I was playing with the kids and decided to join us.”
“What’s happening now?” Brody demands. “What language is that?”
“Russian. They do this pretty often, too. Especially when they don’t want people to know what they’re talking about. It’s really annoying, actually,” Drew scolds. Not that we pay him any mind.
“You and I need to talk again. Soon,” Ellie says.
“We can, but there’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened. No kiss. Not even a hug.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I thought you spoke French.” Brody’s tone makes the statement sound like an accusation.
“I never said French is the only foreign language I speak,” I retort, switching back to English.
“Charlotte speaks eight languages.” Ellie beams with pride. “She has an ear for languages.”
A bit embarrassed because I know she’s trying to talk me up in front of Brody, I awkwardly jerk my shoulder before hugging her and kissing Ben goodbye. “You guys get dinner. I’ve got to run. Robbie Rockwell’s supposed to call me any minute now to arrange delivery of the decorations for the party next week.”
“I’m so bummed we couldn’t make it. But maybe next year?” Ellie adds and I just smile. There might not be a next year for a number of reasons. Once they’re on their way, I turn to head back towards the house.
Except Brody has other ideas.
Wrapping his hands around my shoulders, he prevents me for taking another. “Eight languages?” he murmurs. “What are they?”
“French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, German, Russian, Swedish and Dutch.”
Brody shakes his head. “No fucking way.” He sounds more impressed than dubious. “You’re like a walking UN. How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Learning languages is just easy for me. It’s like how some people are freakishly good at math or the kids that win those national spelling bees. Languages are my thing. A rather useless skill, but at least it’s something.”
“Es ist nicht nutzlos.” It’s not useless.
My jaw drops, but then I remember.
“Das stimmt, er lebte in der Schweiz.” That’s right, he lived in Switzerland. German is the most widely spoken language in Switzerland, especially by the Alps, the area where Brody had worked.
I can’t look away and neither can he. Something is happening here and though I can’t quite figure out what it is, my body won’t let me miss a single moment of it.
Brody breaks contact first, shaking his head and letting go of me. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out...” I hear him mutter as he passes me. And his tone of wonder has me grinning.
Yeah, I’d say this was easily the most fun I’ve had in a long time too.
Chapter Seventeen
Why is it that every time things are starting to look up, shit hits the fan?
Ellie’s visit had been fantastic. Seeing a familiar face revitalized me. I loved spending time with her, Drew, and Ben. And thankfully, there were no further awkward discussions about me and Brody. Not for lack of trying on Ellie’s part, but being a mother to a young toddler made one-on-one conversations somewhat impossible. Ben will always be the priority and eventually, we ran out of time.
“You’re doing it, Char,” she whispered in my ear when she hugged me goodbye. And I swear my cheeks must have pulled a muscle or two from the grin that split across my face.
My cousin may have been shaky on me at first, but she believes in me now. If I can convince her, I can convince everyone.
So instead of being bummed about her departure on Monday morning, I’m ecstatic.
I glide into Brody’s office, bumping the door with my hip since both of my hands are full. “Morning!”
He grunts out something that could have been “Good morning”, who knows. Without his coffee, Brody’s often unintelligible. Setting down his chocolate chip scone, I hold out his coffee mug and wait.
It doesn’t take long.
“What is that?” he asks. Well, more like sneers with a pointed look aimed at the offending mug.
“Your morning cup of coffee.”
“Why is it in a mug? Did the café run out of paper cups this morning?”
“I have no idea.” I hold out the mug a little closer to him.
“What do you mean, you have no idea? Didn’t this come from the café?”
“Nope! I made it.” I have to put the mug down, since Brody still doesn’t seem inclined to take it and I’m a little too giddy with my announcement. If I spill any coffee on his desk, all hell will break loose.
“You made it? So it’s not coffee, it’s sludge.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Picking up the mug again, I take a hearty sip. Even though I hate black coffee, I kind of like this cup. If for no other reason than because, even though I brewed it, it’s still digestible.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, I successfully managed to brew a cup of coffee fit for human consumption. Be sure to mark this day in your calendar.
“Delicious! You try.” I hold the mug out for him again, but Brody still looks wary. Huffing out a breath, I try not to be too annoyed. “Oh, come on. After you lectured me about wasting the café’s food, you’re not even willing to try my freshly brewed coffee? I even taste-tested first!”
“Fine. I’ll try it.” A look of complete dread takes over his face. Yeah, he’s definitely not looking forward to this. Fortunately for his door (which I would have totally slammed and then kicked on my way out if he backed out at the last minute, all melodramatically), he takes a large gulp. And his eyes widen. “Holy shit. It’s drinkable.”
“Told you,” I smirk.
“But how? Did you finally Google it?”
“No.” Fuck. It never occurred to me to use Google. And, considering I’ve Googled every other little thing around here, I really should have tried that first. Oh, well. I’ll keep that in mind for next time. “Ellie gave me her recipe.”
“Hmm...It’s a little strong-” Of course. Satan being Satan can’t ever just say thank you or good job. “But the important thing is the café’s no longer losing money. Thanks.”
Thanks. Well, at least I got a thanks!
Our morning meeting is brief, but much more relaxed than usual. Oh, the sexual tension is still there. It’s always there, electrifying us with small jolts every once in a while, just to make sure we’re still paying attention. But we had both agreed sex in the office is a big no-no, so those jolts have to be ignored.
I’m just settling into the chair at my desk when Barbie walks in.
“I believe you’re in my seat,” she announces, her smile absolutely feral.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She moves across the room to rest her hands on my desk, leaning forward so mere inches separate our faces. “You’re. In. My. Seat.”
“Ew. First of all, take a breath mint before you try pulling that pathetic intimidation tactic again.” I scrunch up my nose and move away, biting back a smile when Barbie covers her mouth to do the universal breath test.
Yes, bitch. It wreaks of coffee and desperation.
“Secondly, why would you have a seat at my desk?”
“Brody called to offer me a position as his assistant.”
My heart stops. What. The. Fuck. “How is that possible when I’m still his assistant?”
“Oh, no! You mean he hasn’t fired you yet?” The batting of her eyes is anything but innocent. “Well, isn’t this awkward. The new assistant meets the old assistant just before she’s canned.”
One, two, three, four, five –
Fuck this shit. I’m supposed to count to ten, but fuck that.
“I was just in a meeting with him and he didn’t fire me.” A meeting alone in his office would have been the time to do it, right? Or was he waiting for this chick to show up? So he could really rub it in?
“Maybe he’s waiting until the end of the day. So you can train me first.”
Train her? Oh, hell to the no.
But I’m not going to bother with Barbie anymore. I need to go straight to the source.
So I barge into Brody’s office and this time, I do slam the door behind me.
“Why are you slamming my door? What have I told you about professionalism during business hours-” But fuck his lecture. I’m not in the mood.
“Am I fired?” I ask.
“Excuse me?” A muscle ticks at Brody’s jaw and I know he’s pissed.
Okay, confession time. So maybe I didn’t ask my question. I maybe, sort of, might have yelled it at him.
“You need to watch your tone-”
“Don’t tell me to watch my tone!” Yeah, I’m too riled up to care about my tone right now. “Barbie’s out there saying you’re waiting until the end of the day to fire me because you need me to train her first. Which, by the way, fuck you! I’m not training my fucking replacement! You can just sack me now because there’s no way in fuck I’m spending the entire day training someone else to do my job!”
“Lower. Your. Voice,” he growls. “Or I will call security to escort you out.”
“Call them!” I challenge, knowing full well he won’t.
No, if Brody’s going to kick me out of the building, he’ll do it himself. Wrap those beefy arms around my waist, hoist me over his shoulder as I kick and scream and punch at his back. His only response will be a mild threat to spank me, spoken in that quiet, gravelly tone of his. He’ll drag me to the nearest utility closet, where he’ll lay me down across his bended knee and make his threat a reality. Spanking my cheeks so hard, they’ll be red for days. But easing the sting each time with a gentle kiss.
Not that I’ve been fantasizing about it or anything.
“If I have you removed, you’ll be on the front page of the tabloids by tomorrow morning. Then what will Daddy Warbucks say about your progress?”
Crossing my arms, I pout in defeat. I’m positive he won’t call security on me, but my fantasy scenario of him dragging me out of here caveman-style doesn’t exactly bode well for me either. Taking a calming breath, I try again.
Did I mention Kensingtons are passionate people? Well, we are. Expressive as all hell from the crown of our hairline down to our littlest pinky toe. Except for Ellie (who is half robot on her father’s side) and Jackson (who tries his best to suppress his urges), we are an emotionally charged bunch.
Which is to say, my version of calm still has Brody’s eye twitching.
“Why is Barbie out there saying you hired her on as my replacement? Can’t you at least have the decency to fire me to my face? I mean, I sit like five feet away from you! I thought we were past the whole passive-aggressive emailing and calling to avoid face-to-face interaction bullshit. And I was just in here like five minutes ago-”
“You’re not fired.”
Well, that’s certainly enough to slow my roll. “I’m not?”
“No.” He punctuates his words with a firm shake of his head.
“Then why is Barbie out there saying you hired her on as my replacement?”
“Who the hell is Barbie?”
I wave my hand around, searching my memory bank for her real name. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m horrible with names. It is much easier for me to use mnemonics like Barbie and Sir Slurs-A-Lot.
“That girl who dated Tanner. The one who pushed me into the pool?”
“Emily?”
“Yes! Emily. Why is she here?”
“I don’t know why she’s here currently, but I did hire her on as my part-time assistant-”
“Aha! So you are trying to fire me! Prick!” Okay, I’m totally pushing my luck with the prick bit. Brody’s eyes narrow and I think he’s contemplating throttling me.
A common thought, when it comes to me.
“For the last time, you’re not fired. I promoted you. To Director of the Children’s Program.”
“I-” Am at a complete loss for words. And I need to sit down, because I swear the earth just tilted. “A promotion?”
“Yes. Part-time for now, until you can figure out what all we would need to get the program fully up and running. Your main duties will be to coordinate kid-friendly activities and eventually, we may look into opening a daycare. I was going to have you arrange to spend half your day with me and the rest dedicated to the Children’s Program. Emily is going to take over your duties the hours you aren’t here.”
“Promoted?” I must have misheard him. Me, a director? It’s not possible. It wasn’t all that long ago my own brother and cousin refused to hire me as a bartender and now I’m going to be a director?
“Yes, promoted.” The corners of his mouth curl up just the tiniest amount. “As you pointed out, there aren’t nearly enough kid-friendly activities on the resort grounds. And as I witnessed firsthand yesterday, you are really good with children. Good ideas should be encouraged
and rewarded. I was going to wait to make the official announcement at the next staff meeting, but I guess Emily spoiled the surprise-”
I’m not paying attention anymore. Launching myself at him, I squeal in delight as I hug the shit out of him. “A promotion!”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What have I told you about screaming like that?” But he’s full on smiling now, sharing in my excitement. And without even thinking about it, I swoop in and plant a quick thank you kiss on his lips.
Oh, how I love the way his plump lips feel against mine. Especially when I’m enclosed in his warm embrace. I just want to curl up and savor the feeling.
But…he’s my boss. And we’re at the office. And Emily’s just outside. Pulling away from him, I retrieve my phone from my pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling my brother. I need to – Shit, voicemail. I have to make this good. Hey, Jax. Charlotte, here. Remember how you wouldn’t hire me because you said I was irresponsible, immature, and unreliable? And how you said if you were Mr. Connors, you would have fired me after my first day? Well, guess what? Not only did Mr. Connors not fire me, he just gave me a promotion. So suck on it, asshole! Because nobody puts Baby in a corner! XOXO, Charlotte.”
I press to hang up, which feels very anticlimactic.
“You know, I kind of miss flip phones. Pressing a button to hang up just doesn’t give you the same satisfaction as clamping a phone shut, you know?”
“There are so many, many things I would like to ask about that voicemail message. Starting with why you ended it with an XOXO?”
“I got carried away,” I shrug. “That’s how I usually sign my angry text messages to him.”
“Nobody puts Baby in a corner?” He’s grinning, so I know he enjoyed that part.
“Dirty Dancing. I love that movie. Plus, it fits.”
“And why would your own twin call you irresponsible and unreliable?”
I try to taper down my embarrassment, but there’s not much I can do to prevent my cheeks from flushing. Eyes downcast, I mumble, “Um, because it’s the truth?”