Charming: A Cinderella Billionaire Story

by Sophie Brooks

  I picked up the phone. “Get Heidi on the line.”

  14

  Autumn

  Wednesday morning at the diner started like any other shift—until Ford walked in. I was about to pour coffee for a table of older ladies, and I froze so suddenly that drops of fresh brew splashed onto the table. But the women seated in front of me didn’t seem to care. Like me, they were looking at the man who had just come through the front door.

  He stood out like a sore thumb in the small, outdated diner entryway. An extremely handsome sore thumb, that is. I’d never seen him in his work clothes before, and it was a sight to behold. The charcoal gray suit must have cost more than the monthly salary of everyone working here today, and it fit like it had been created out of pure silk by the gods themselves.

  I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. Neither could half the people in the place. Ford looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine ad or a movie—or the dream I’d had about him last night.

  Until this moment, I hadn’t actually remembered any of my dreams, but seeing him triggered a recollection. The specifics were vague, but he’d been in my dream, and I’d been in his arms. And unlike the terrifying night of the break-in at my apartment, in my dreams I’d been able to enjoy being there.

  Without really knowing that what I would say, I set the pot of coffee down on the table and moved forward. “Welcome,” I managed to stammer, as neutrally as possible for the sake of my manager, Bea, who was watching from behind the counter. “Can I help you?” What I really wanted to ask was somewhere between What are you doing here? And How the hell can anyone look that hot in a suit?

  His lips turned up into a smile when I neared, and I was suddenly aware of the dumpy black dress with the pink apron I was wearing. Even my best outfit would have paled in comparison to his expensive suit. To stand here in this awful uniform next this gorgeous specimen was especially embarrassing. Yet Ford’s smile seemed genuine.

  “Good morning, Autumn. I’d like a table in your section, please.”

  Numbly, I nodded, heading to the right and gesturing for him to follow. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the restaurant flit from Ford to me and back again.

  “Table or booth?” I asked, turning to find him standing much too close. I had to look up to see his face, and I was instantly reminded that his sexy grin, sparkling eyes, and glossy dark hair were every bit as impressive as the suit.

  “A booth is fine,” he said, and he slid gracefully into the nearest one. Once he was seated, low conversations started up around us, but my brain had yet to return to its fully-functional state. He looked so out of place here. Like he was in color and the rest of the diner and its patrons were in black and white.

  “Ummm… you’re here.” Hard to believe I’d scored well on the language portion of the SATs back when I still thought I’d be able to attend college.

  He chuckled. This time, he was the one looking up at me as I nervously shifted from one foot to another. “I believe what you wanted to say, and were too polite, is why are you here. Right?”

  “Right,” I murmured, blushing.

  “I’m here for you, of course,” he said, giving me a direct look that made my breath catch in my throat. Then he laughed and broke the spell he’d put me under. “You told your sister I was a customer here. I figured it was my duty, as your friend, to make sure you hadn’t lied to her. Besides, I wanted to see you wearing your black trash bag of a uniform for myself. To me, it looks more like a dark polyester tube sock.”

  “You don’t have to lay the flattery on that thick,” I said, wishing I could have come up with a better come-back. “I’ll get you a menu. Would you like to start with some coffee?”

  “Sure,” he said, and I went off in search of the pot I’d abandoned earlier. I found it back on the table with the four older women, one of whom had already poured it for herself and her friends.

  “I’m afraid it’s empty, dear,” she said when I neared. “Best go get a fresh pot. Any man who looks like that deserves only the best service.”

  “If I were forty years younger, I’d service him all right,” one of her companions said, and the women broke out into giggles. I grinned in spite of myself as I hurried to the kitchen.

  Moments later, I placed the least sticky laminated menu I could find in front of Ford, and poured his coffee. “No BLTs this time of day,” I said lamely, referring to our earlier ruse to Cara about how we’d met.

  “Such a shame,” he said, picking up the menu and scanning it. “I guess I’ll have to make do with eggs and bacon. Or pancakes and bacon. Or oatmeal and bacon? Is that a thing? Could I just order a big ol’ pile of bacon and bacon?”

  “You could if you wanted to,” I said, feeling my mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile. But I needed to keep my guard up until I figured out why he was here. I already knew that he had ways of slipping underneath it.

  “What would you recommend?”

  “The pecan pancakes are good.”

  A man from across the room caught my eye, indicating he was ready for his check. “Why don’t you take a minute to decide and I’ll be right back?” I hurried away so as not to be tempted to linger at his table longer than necessary. I couldn’t imagine why he was here, but it would clearly be anything but a normal shift today.

  A few minutes later I was back, and Ford was smiling up at me, the menu on the table. Good, he must be ready to order. “What can I get for you?” I asked, pulling the notebook out of my apron pocket.

  “Tell me about the specials,” he said, looking as if he had all the time in the world.

  “This is a diner. There’s nothing special here.”

  “I disagree,” he said, treating to me a very direct wink that made my heart pound faster. “Well, then, sit down and pretend you’re explaining the menu to me.”

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Can you take a break?”

  “Not this early, and I can’t ever sit with the customers out here.”

  “But you can talk with the customers. Service with a smile and all that, right?”

  “C’mon, Ford, I have other tables to attend to.”

  “No problem. I’ll be here.”

  “What?”

  “When you’re done with them,” he said, with a maddeningly calm.

  “Why don’t you just order now?”

  “Because if I do, then you’ll go take the other customers’ orders and won’t come back here until my food’s ready.”

  I rolled my eyes even as I bit back a smile. “Yes, that’s a very accurate description of what a waitress does. Clearly, you were paying attention during career day at school.”

  He grinned at that, probably as amused as I was at the thought of someone speaking about the food service industry in whatever rich and hoity-toity school he undoubtedly had attended. With a wicked wink, he said, “I like your other job better because then I get your undivided attention.”

  I’m pretty sure I could actually feel my cheeks redden at that. “Shhh,” I scolded him, and then shook my notebook at him threateningly. “I’ll be back. Figure out what you want to eat.”

  Three visits later, I was ready to strangle him. “Are you going to be one of those annoying customers who takes up a table all morning and only orders coffee?” I asked, refilling his cup.

  “Maybe I just like watching you work.”

  “Speaking of work, don’t you have a job?”

  “I do. And that’s actually why I’m here.”

  “Your job is to visit diners?”

  “No,” he said, and this time he didn’t laugh. “I want to talk to you about jobs. Specifically, a job opening that you might be interested in.”

  My heart sank. I’d been right the other day. Ford was making me his new project. I could easily imagine his to do list:

  1. Rescue Autumn from bad men.

  2. Provide lavish hotel room for her and her sister.

  3. Replace her front door with one that could su
rvive a battering ram.

  4. Find her a better job.

  But the joke was on him. I had exactly two skills, waitressing and making men moan. Neither of those would bring me the big bucks.

  “I already have a job,” I said, instinctively lowering my voice in case Bea was within earshot. “I have two, actually.”

  “Yes, but one of them, at least, is a waste of your talents,” he said, leaving me to contemplate whether he felt this place or Sultry Sirens was under-utilizing me. I wasn’t sure which option was better. “My friend owns a small media company. They make various presentations and videos for companies, anything from in-house training videos to promotional material.”

  “I don’t know anything about that stuff,” I said without thinking, then mentally cursed myself. Not that I thought Ford would judge me, but still, I didn’t want to go around advertising my ignorance. But I supposed he should know these things before he attempted to strong-arm someone into hiring me.

  “Heidi Montgomery, that’s my friend, always needs good people to do voice-overs and narration. So I told her about you and your utterly amazing voice, and she wants you to come in for an interview.”

  “Surely that can’t be a real job—just speaking for a few videos?” Hopefully he didn’t tell her in what context he’d first come to admire my vocal stylings.

  “Believe it or not, there are some jobs that require a woman with a good set of vocal cords that don’t depend on the listeners having their hands down their pants.”

  With what I considered admirable restraint, I let that comment go with nothing more than a quick roll of my eyes. “Thanks for thinking of me, Ford, but I have all the jobs I can handle right now.”

  “Hear me out,” he said, catching my arm as I made to turn away. “It’s a full-time job at a great company. Heidi’s a very successful and talented businesswoman, and there’s a lot she can teach you.”

  “Like what?” I asked, interested in spite of myself. “Is she a vocal coach?”

  “No, but you don’t need one of those anyway. And there are other aspects of the job. You’d start with doing voice work, but you’d also be trained on how to do other things. Learn to do some of the video creation and production.”

  “I don’t know how to do anything like that.” My computer skills were not awful, but they weren’t the best. My old laptop had died last year, and I hadn’t been able to afford to replace it. Cara used the computers at the library for her essays and reports, and we both relied on our phones to access the internet. Even when I’d had regular computer access, I hadn’t known a whole lot more than the basics.

  “That’s why it’s called training. You’re smart, you’re quick, and if you’re willing to learn, Heidi could teach you a lot. Just go to the interview. What’s the harm in that?”

  I thought about it. It seemed very unlikely that this woman Ford knew was truly looking for a new employee the exact same week that Ford started his rescue efforts for me and Cara. But still… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. Hopefully I’d be able to figure out if she was sincere or if Ford had cajoled her into interviewing me. But even if it was the former, I doubted I had the skills for the job. “I guess I could talk to her sometime,” I said, only partly to get him off my back.

  “Excellent,” Ford said, plucking a business card out of his suit pocket and handing it to me. “She’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

  “Three? I can’t leave at three. I’ve got to be here.”

  “Call in sick. Call in dead. Just be there at three.”

  “I can’t. I already have a job, and I won’t risk it to play ‘let’s pretend Autumn has actual skills like a normal person’. I have to live in the real world, not the land of fairy tales.”

  His eyes narrowed at my self-depreciating words. “I have a job too, and one of my duties is recognizing talented, hard-working people when I see them. But fine. If you’re sure you don’t want to go,” he said, and I nodded firmly, “then I’ll just stay here until you change your mind.”

  “That’s—wait, what?”

  “Looks like I am going to be one of those annoying customers who hogs a whole table an only orders coffee. Speaking of that, when you get a chance, I could use a fresh cup. And then I can tell you more about the kind of work Heidi’s company does.”

  After that, Ford set up camp. If I’d thought he was joking, I was wrong. And if I’d thought he’d spend the whole morning goofing off and flipping through his phone, I was wrong on that account, too. Instead, he went to work. First he produced his laptop and a pile of papers from his briefcase. He kept two phones next to him on the table and made frequent calls. Then Jason showed up and left some file folders for him. Soon, Ford had papers and note pads and equipment spread out over the entire tabletop. And every time I went over there, he said he only wanted coffee.

  I apologized to Bea, my manager. “He won’t leave. Just keeps asking for coffee refills.” Bea was less that pleased but agreed that we couldn’t just demand he leave. It would look bad in front of our regulars, many of whom liked to hang out a bit longer than necessary after their meal was done, too. But at least they’d ordered meals in the first place.

  By midmorning, the breakfast shift was over, and I dutifully brought him the lunch menu. “Thanks. I’ll take a look. But for now, just coffee.” I nodded and then declined to look at the website for Heidi’s company he’d pulled up on his computer. I’m sure it was a wonderful company, but it probably hadn’t gotten that way by hiring unskilled people who had barely finished high school.

  About the time when the lunch crowd was picking up, an elegant woman in her early fifties and a man in a brown suit showed up. I hurried over to show them to a table, but the woman said that they were looking for a colleague. I should’ve known. I showed them to Ford’s table and then went back to delivery platters of sandwiches and French fries, all the while keeping an eye on his booth. To my astonishment, the newcomers sat down across from Ford and appeared to have a business meeting—as if this was a normal event to hold at a run-down diner.

  After ten minutes or so, the woman handed some papers to Ford, who took them, read them through, and then signed them. When he was through signing and initialing, he gave them to the man who had a stamp in his hand. As I watched from across the room, it hit me—that man was a notary. Ford was signing legal papers and had made a notary come to the diner.

  He was insane. What kind of person operated a business out of a booth in a restaurant? But as the lunch shift continued on, it was clear that he was getting a hell of a lot of work done. Possibly more than me because I couldn’t seem to keep from watching him. Even if he hadn’t been doing something so crazy, well, he was a man easy to look at for other reasons as well.

  After the lunch rush, I moved from table to table, providing the lingering customers with anything they needed when I saw Jason rejoin Ford at his booth. Slowly, I made my way over there, making sure the other customers were taken care of.

  I smiled at Jason, but spoke to Ford. “Anything I can get you? A sandwich? A milkshake? An administrative assistant?”

  “That last one would be great,” Ford said, but he was looking at his laptop screen, obviously engrossed in something he was reading.

  Turning to Jason, I said, “And what about you? Can I get you something or are you part of Ford’s Eating Embargo?”

  “Just coffee,” he said. “I already ate.” Just as I started to mentally roll my eyes at the fact that there were now two of them doing this, he added, “Unless you have some pie.”

  “Of course we do,” I said, brightening. “We’ve got apple, cherry, pecan, and blueberry.”

  “Which do you recommend?”

  “Blueberry. It’s delicious. Be sure to make sure Ford knows what he’s missing out on when you eat it, okay?”

  “Will do,” he said, as Ford gave a noncommittal grunt.

  “Has Thompson heard back from Adams yet?” Ford asked Jason, and I left as the latter picked up his ph
one to make a call.

  By mid-afternoon, Ford had only left the booth twice—once to use the restroom and once to take a call outside in the parking lot. I wondered if he expected our diner customers to be corporate spies or something. But it was pretty noisy and crowded in the dining room—far more so than usual for this time of the day. I commented on that when I went to talk to Bea about some supplies we were low on.

  “Yeah, it’s been a really good day, sales-wise. The lunch crowd just keeps on ordering more food. We’re out of every kind of pie except cherry. And milkshakes and cheesy fries have been big sellers, too.”

  This made me feel extra guilty. Ford was taking up a table on one of our busiest days in a long time. “This ridiculous. We can’t let one customer take up a table for the entire day. I’ll make him move.”

  Bea snorted at me. “Are you crazy? Why do you think all these people are still here? All these women are still here?”

  I looked around. Our diner tended to attracted more women than men, but today, the ones who’d lingered after lunch were almost all women. I turned back to Bea with a puzzled look on my face.

  “I’ll give you a hint… they’re not sticking around to look at you. He stays as long as he wants to stay.”

  With that stunning reversal, Bea left me standing there staring around the diner. She was right. Many of the women kept sneaking glances at Ford. Even the other waitresses were. As I watched, Helen walked out of her section and deliberately past Ford’s table on her way to the kitchen. She’d taken the most circuitous path just to see him up close. Not that I blamed her, but wow—why on earth did a guy like that, a guy who had that effect on women, keep showing up to visit me?

  It boggled the mind.

  By three-thirty, an hour before my shift ended, I’d had enough. Pot of coffee in hand, I approached his table for what felt like the thirtieth time. “Exactly how long is this corporate takeover of my diner going to last? Don’t you want to get up? Stretch your legs? Eat something? Touch a surface that’s not sticky?”