by Emily Childs
“I am.”
The door opens before she can retort and we’re no longer alone. We stand when a blonde woman bounces in—she actually looks like she has a bounce to her step—grinning. She’s followed by a tall guy who seems like he’d rather be anywhere but here. She’s dressed to the nines: red, manicured fingernails, pearls on her neck and ears, dress slacks with stilettos, hair in a fancy bun at the base of her neck. He’s dressed in a nice buttoned-down shirt, but keeps messing with the collar as if he’s being throttled.
I guess I expected a woman closer to Holly’s age, and am surprised she looks younger than me. She holds out her hand to shake mine. A dainty handshake, but firm enough. Then she takes Laney’s.
“Hey there,” she says. All southern and charming. “I’m Olive Cutler. My daddy is Lon, the main guy y’all are wanting to manage and woo. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it out here, but I suppose I’ll have to do. Honestly, I’m not much of a businesswoman, but available for the trip. Still, I’m taking it all back to him and his board, and they’ll do with it what they will.”
“Good to meet you, Ms. Cutler,” I say, doing a quick scan for a ring. There is a rock on her finger, but I never know how to address women. Holly hated being called missus, even when Roger was alive. “Please, have a seat.”
Olive beams wider, as if I’ve said something impressive. “By the way,” she says, facing Laney, her fingers waving up and down as if they’re scanning Laney’s body. “I love you.”
“It’s good to be loved,” Laney says without skipping a beat.
Olive laughs, clapping the top of the table. “Mylanta, you’re adorable. I love your look.”
Laney checks out her vest, and blushes. “Oh, thank you.”
“Oh, I should’ve said, but this here” – She gestures to the guy at her side – “is my bodyguard, Rafe.”
The tall guy scowls at her, but I think he’s trying to hide a smile. “I’m not a bodyguard.” He glances to me. “I’m not her bodyguard. I work for the Cutlers and Mr. Cutler asked me to come along since he couldn’t be here.”
“Rafe, bless your heart. You get so embarrassed.” Olive snickers and leans over the table. “My daddy forgets I’m an independent woman, so he feels impressed to send a burly man as my escort into the wilds of Minnesota.”
Laney chuckles. “Wise. You never know what might happen here.”
“I’m sure. Not that I’m complaining. Fragile damsels need beefy guys like Rafe keeping watch, or goodness, we females might shatter our innocence.” She pats Rafe’s shoulder and winks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
To be honest, I’ve never been in a meeting like this. Olive did say she’s not exactly the professional, simply a stand in for her father. It’s kind of refreshing. Of course, Rafe seems like he’d rather disappear into the center of the earth.
Rafe scrubs his face when she goes on about damsels and knights in shining armor, and grumbles, “Ollie, we’re here for a meeting, remember?”
He must not care for the limelight, but Olive seems intent to embarrass him until his new color is red.
“Fine, I’ll stop. For now.” Olive says, bright eyed. “So, what do you have for me?”
Olive might’ve painted an initial picture, maybe out of humility, that she didn’t know anything. Quite the contrary. She knows what to ask, understands stakes, understands risks, and markets. As a person, I like her. As a businesswoman, she’d terrify me. Olive holds herself high and confident. She includes Rafe; he doesn’t say much, and I still don’t know his position at Cutler Incorporated, but the way he’ll glance at her I think he appreciates being part of it.
Also, she’s reeled Laney in like they’ve been friends forever.
“Last question,” Olive says after forty minutes of back and forth. “Laney, explain why it’d be important to target middle class mothers? That’s pretty specific.”
“I can go even more specific,” Laney says.
I’m captivated the way her eyes light up as she explains. She loves this. Deserves this shot. And it only reminds me once we secure our positions we come to the end of our arrangement.
“I think your company should target middle class mothers with children in elementary school and junior high. You’re trying to specialize in investments for the middle class, which includes educational funds. With competitive returns and increasing tuition across the country, it’s appealing for parents. Particularly mothers.”
Olive nods as she scans the sheet of recommended demographics. “This is really interesting. I’ve lived outside Charleston all my life, and here I am feeling like you know my neck of the woods better than me.”
“That is our job,” Laney says.
“Very true.” Olive stacks the papers, then sighs as she slumps into her chair. “I think we’ve got plenty to take back with us.” She pats her stomach and studies the office. “Any good places to eat around here? Rafe’s been complaining about his stomach grumbling since the sun rose.”
“I have not,” he says as a sort of lament not to draw eyes on him again.
“Yeah,” Laney says. “My sister owns a café around the corner. I think we can score you something from her secret menu.”
Laney grins at me which I meet. I stare too long, truth told, and when she peels her eyes from me her cheeks are rosy.
Olive’s eyes flick between us for a heartbeat before she says, “Will you join us? I know you’re busy, but I hope you’ll come. I like you two.”
Rafe stands. “Olive makes a friend wherever she goes. She’ll start begging.”
“We like to eat,” I say.
Laney smirks and gathers her thinks. “That’s an understatement. This guy’s family owns a bakery; you should’ve seen the truckloads of food they shoved down my throat last night.”
This is weird and informal, but I like laughing with Laney, and I like that the clients are eating it up. Helps that I like them too, enough I keep reminding myself to treat them as clients, not friends. Olive links her arm with Rafe, and I wonder if he’s the one who gave her the rock.
Then I wish Laney would do that to me.
But why would she? Holly isn’t here, she’s not watching. And that’s what matters in this. Convincing my boss I have a life and giving Laney a shot to show off her talents.
That’s all this is.
And I’m really starting to hate that.
Chapter 18
Laney
“She’ll add some green chilies to the mac if you ask for it wild style,” I tell Olive at the counter. Nicole already stopped and told me to get the drinks. She’s too busy. Perks of being the sister.
“Mmmm, sounds perfect. Rafe loves chilies, but he’ll probably be too zip-lipped to say.”
I chuckle and peek at the table in the center of the café. Bastien and Rafe are talking, so he can’t be that quiet. I like how Bastien can engage people, and when he laughs, I think I might fall a little bit in love with him. But that is a secret I’ll keep to myself.
“How long have you been together?” I ask. The way she had held onto Rafe’s arm the entire walk and teased him, the way he looked at her like she created the cloud he was walking on, he had to be the culprit behind the diamond on her finger.
“Me and Rafe?” she asks. “Oh, no. It’s not like that.”
“Oh, my mistake.”
“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were practically in diapers. He works for my daddy sometimes, but really the reason he’s here is because my family trusts him to look after me, the incapable debutante.”
“Ah, your dad cares, that’s all.”
She snorts. “He does. Sometimes too much. I suppose I don’t mind that he sent Rafe rather than one of his stuffy board members. At least we have fun together.”
“You seem like you do. The reason for my mistake.”
“You’re not the first one to think that. Now, mind you, he did propose to me on his first day of kindergarten, it was terribly romantic.”
Olive sighs as though her thoughts went to another place, another time. “But we’re friends. All we’ve ever been is friends.”
Woman to woman, there’s a hitch in her voice. I don’t know her well enough to be pointing anything out, so instead I draw her attention to her hand. “Your ring is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Olive says, staring at the diamond. “I’m getting married.”
She says it so flatly I’m not sure if I should congratulate or offer condolences. “When is the big day?”
“Not ‘till spring. Tom’s on a business trip and was fit to be tied when he found out daddy sent Rafe with me. The way I see it he had plenty of time to adjust his schedule, seeing how he works for his granddaddy.”
I laugh, but hold my thoughts while Nicole takes our order and shoos me back to the table. While we eat, I realize if I’d met Olive outside of the office, I think we would’ve been quick friends. She’s sassy, yet classy. I don’t know how else to describe her. The woman comes from money. We know Cutler Incorporated financials, and trust me, she comes from money, but she’s grounded. She tells us how she’s beginning her last year of school, studying elementary education. A woman like her must have a trust fund the size of Texas, but she wants to teach little minds!
I think I fall in love a little with her too.
And I like Rafe. The longer he’s with us, the more he talks. He’s handsome. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, not the same suck-me-in-like-a-moth-to-the-flame as Bastien’s, but he’s not hard on the eyes.
Oh, and he clearly wouldn’t mind being more than friends with a one, Miss Olive Cutler. I’m not sure he even knows, but the way the guy looks at her—oh yeah—he’s gone.
For how nervous I was for this meeting, it’s a relief to feel sad when it’s over. Olive and Rafe stand outside the Vanilla Bean explaining their plans for the last night in town. I insist they should drive to Lindström and stop into the Scandinavian Market. When I finish, and Bastien meets my eyes, my stomach flips. His grin says a thousand things, but most of all I think it means something that I’m pimping his family’s market. Like I’m proud of it, or him. Not hard to do when it’s a little piece of heaven on earth.
“I’m glad you’re the number guru, Bastien, and you’re the marketer, Laney,” Olive says when it really is time to get back to the office. “We’re in good hands.”
“Oh, you are,” I say. “I’m not exactly the marketer, though. I’m an assistant. But if Bastien is over the data, your dad won’t regret it.”
“Wait?” Olive’s brows furrow. “I thought you’d be in charge of the marketing. Didn’t you build those reports?”
I nod slowly, not sure how to explain everything that’s up in the air right now. “I did, but I don’t have an official position in the marketing department.”
Olive scoffs and shoots Rafe a glance as if to say, Can you believe this. “Well, I don’t like that. Daddy’ll want you on the accounts.”
“They’re forming a new team,” Bastien jumps in. “Laney’s applied. I think she’d be great.”
My legs are melting. He can’t look at me like that, or I think I’ll buckle right here on the sidewalk.
Olive claps her hands together. “Perfect. I’m going to have a lot to say about deals hinging on working with you, Laney.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, girl,” she says, waving me away. “You know your stuff, and from what I’ve seen, I want you working with us.”
I flub my way through wordy farewells, and promises they’ll visit the market later tonight before Olive and Rafe make their way back to their rental car. I’m frozen, but when they’re out of sight, I spin on my heel to Bastien. Officially, my mouth is open. Like a trout.
“Did you hear that?” I say in a gasp. “She wants me working with them.”
He smiles, and my insides turn to warm syrup because he adds a laugh. A real, thrilled for my little victory, look of excitement. On the guy I thought would fight to the bitter end to keep me working for him. He shrugs. “I’m not one for I told you so, but . . .”
I squeal, lose my head, and fling my arms around his neck. Bastien grunts, but his arms find my waist, holding me like I’m the only solid thing. Pressing my face into his neck, I breathe him in. The woodsy scent of his skin, the clean smell of his suit.
How did we get like this? How do I ever leave this?
Then I realize what I’ve done and pull back slightly.
“Sorry I jumped you,” I whisper. My fingertips travel along the sharp line of his jaw. I feel him shudder, and promptly discover I like drawing out responses from Bastien Olsen.
“I don’t mind,” he says, as breathy as me.
This was supposed to be temporary, but how will I forget the quick spark of heat that comes when Bastien wraps his arms around me? An abrupt sensation, but one that leaves a lasting impression.
Temporary. But when I put some space between us, the way he’s studying me, memorizing me, I’m not so sure he wants this to be temporary either.
“We should get back,” I mutter.
“Yeah. Holly will want an update.”
His hands fall from my body, leaving behind a trail of fireworks bursting from my nerves. We adjust and stand shoulder to shoulder. In the corner of his mouth, a smile starts to curl.
Nicole was right.
Baggage from the past and all, I’m dangerously close to the edge of falling for Bastien. The headfirst, crazy, reckless kind of falling. I’m standing on the ledge, but right now, stepping back seems like the most ridiculous idea ever conjured in the history of ideas.
***
Interviews are scheduled for the day before Nicole’s wedding.
I think I might throw up.
Holly was informed, according to a new email I received early this morning from Olive Cutler, that her father would appreciate if a one, Laney Brooks, has a say in his marketing plan.
I’m not sure I should read anything into it, but at the end of Holly’s request for an interview, she added a smiley face. I’ve never received a smiley face in an official company email before. The lower part of my abdomen feels like a hot stovetop is blazing inside, but it’s not only from the email. I’ve been this way for two days. Since I nearly hugged Bastien to death on the sidewalk. We haven’t touched again, but I’ve wanted to. Every time he walks past my desk, he’s close enough if I reached out our fingertips would brush. Or when he comes to boss me around (except he doesn’t boss me around, not really. Doesn’t even ask me to make copies anymore) and he leans against my desk and looks at me with those blue crystal eyes. I want more, want to know what he’s thinking. But another piece of me refuses to budge and cross that line we’ve drawn. I don’t want to screw anything up by muddying my working relationships with feelings. And I’ve had my share of guys who weren’t worth the heartache, some of them cheaters. Maybe some girls can overlook their guys wandering. For me, it’s a hard pass. A total deal breaker.
Even with guys who were never mine.
He acts like he’s such a decent guy, but he’s a cheat. He’s cruel, Amy had sobbed to me and two more of our roommates the day after Valentine’s Day. I’d been shocked, to say the least. Bastien was the hot, successful boyfriend we’d known for two years. All it took was one question about what happened for the floodgates to spill. Amy aired all his dirty laundry. He degraded her, kept her hooked by talking about buying rings and weddings and babies while he slept with other girls.
After that, any friendship or whatever we had, was over with Bastien. I took this job after graduation because I wanted to work at Everett. I’d even texted Amy, telling her I still stood with her in solidarity even if the swamp creature was my boss. She’d warned me not to get too close to him. To watch my heart, or something dramatic.
Now, I can hardly see straight around him.
I refuse to be an idiot, b
ut sometimes I really want to be. He’s becoming an insatiable craving.
I consider putting all the resentment I’ve harbored for him out there, but honestly thinking of it all is putting me in a sour mood.
“Brooks, I won’t be back today. City manager meeting. Kill me now.” Bastien’s deep voice startles me. “Oh, and I’m supposed to ask you to come to Kirstie’s birthday party tomorrow. Don’t feel obligated, but if you want, you’re welcome.”
Ah, don’t bring the kids into this. I curl my fists, imagining how I’m probably falling right into a deranged plan to be his next conquest.
Maybe I’m being dramatic, or maybe just grumpy.
“Brooks?”
“I’ll get back to you.” My voice is low, and a little growly. Ugh. Someday I hope I can learn not to carry all my emotions on my sleeve.
Bastien comes around my desk, looking delicious. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I’m pretty sure I glare at him, but I can’t stop. “I have an interview with Holly set up. We ought to discuss how we plan to break up once the hiring process is all said and done.”
I swear he flinches.
“Okay, whatever you want,” he says softly. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, flashing a big, bright smile. I’m falling for you and I’m terrified of you. That’s the real problem here. If I open myself to this guy, what damage might he leave in his wake?
“Okay.” He adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, and glances to Nathan, the analyst who is the lead with the city’s data. “See you tomorrow.”
When he’s gone, I let my head fall to my desk. The guy is going to get whiplash if I can’t keep my emotions straight, or at the very least, tell him why I’m a rollercoaster inside.
He deserves to either fess up, or deny what I’ve leveled against him. Later. I’ll ask him later. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the truth. Because I’m rebuilding a new opinion and how awful would it be if the truth tore it all down.
Two hours later Nicole scrutinizes me, until I feel like I need to curl into a shell and disappear. “What?” I say, fiddling with a nacho platter. A new queso recipe is smothered over the chips and I’m the taste tester.