It was entertaining. Especially when she stuck out her hand and naively introduced herself as Gwendolyn Havershire, the very person I was supposed to meet. Little did she know, Gwendolyn doesn’t hold a candle to the blonde beauty who was standing in front of me.
And then when she’d had enough and stormed off, I got a great view of her swaying ass as she made her way through the convention . . . map in hand.
If I wasn’t so terrified about her stabbing me in the neck with a retractable pen, I might have asked for her number. Might being the key word.
The only good part of this asinine outing is I get to see Linus, the one and only competent person I know with a possible new hire.
At least that’s what I thought until good old turd nugget, “Gwendolyn” steps forward. And from the panicked look in her eyes, I’m guessing she wasn’t expecting to see me.
This should be fun.
“Linus”—I take his hand in mine—“it’s nice to see you. Are you having a good time?”
“We are. We just got limited-edition planners from Daisy and Dot. You know how I like my organization.”
“I thrive off it,” I answer, glancing at “Gwen” who is doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact with me. Looking at the ceiling, the ground, the intricate red gingham pattern of the tablecloth. I take that moment to give her a full once-over. Dark wash skinny jeans, white tennis shoes, white T-shirt that frames her curvy body, a leather jacket wrapped around her waist, and a red, worn baseball cap on her head. It’s a cute outfit, not something to meet an employer in, but that’s not what’s stunning me right now. It’s her eyes hidden under red frames. Dark lashes flutter up, framing the brilliant blue of her irises and I realize right there, she’s too goddamn beautiful to be my assistant. Hiring her would be a huge mistake, I can feel it in my bones. That doesn’t mean I won’t have some fun though. “Take a seat. I got you and your friend a coffee and some mini cinnamon buns.”
“So thoughtful,” Linus says, taking a seat while his friend stays standing.
“What are you doing? Sit.” Linus pulls on her hand, forcing her into her chair with a thunk. Laughing nervously, Linus says, “Mr. Westin, this is the girl I was telling you about. Meet Charlee Cox.”
“Charlee Cox, huh?” I ask, tilting my head to observe her. “You look more like a Gwendolyn to me.” I rub the side of my jaw.
“Heh.” She smiles, but it’s an odd one, not a normal smile you would expect from a gorgeous girl like her. It’s more like her bottom teeth are jutting out and the corners of her mouth are driving down and under her chin.
Not good.
Not good at all.
Gaining her composure, she folds her hands on the table and says, “About that—”
“Wait, do you know each other?” Linus asks, looking between us.
Eyes stilled on Charlee, I tap my finger on the table and say, “No, but we did have a run-in this morning. Charlee . . .”
“Cox,” she fills in for me. “Like multiple penises. A bag of penises. Cock, but plural. All the penises.” Her face blushes bright red as she clears her throat. “Cox with an x, not C-O-C-K-S. Not actual—”
“I get it,” I say as she nods and slowly starts to become one with her chair, trying to mold into the wood and disappear.
“Charlee Cox asked me to take a photo of her under the banner outside of the convention. We got into a small disagreement where she called me . . .” I tap my chin for a few seconds. “Aah yes, a peon turd nugget.”
“You what?” Linus asks, looking horrified.
Nervously smiling, her lips practically shake as she speaks. “Well, you see, technically”—she holds up her finger to make a point—“I called you a turd nugget and then a peon. They were separate insults.”
“That does not make it better,” Linus chastises. “Mr. Westin, I’m so sorry.”
I hold my hand up. “I’ve been called worse. But what I really enjoyed was her attempt to take on the persona of Gwendolyn Havershire and try to kick me out of the convention, even though I was late to my meeting with Mrs. Havershire as Charlee here was holding me back.”
Her face pales.
Her mouth falls open.
And it really does look like she might have a nervous breakdown.
“Why on earth would you do that?” Linus asks.
We both stare her down and even with the inquisition waiting for her answer, I thoughtfully observe her. She might look like she’s in a state of panic, but what really intrigues me—besides her red-framed glasses and the beautiful eyes that are hidden under them—is the way she gains her composure, stiffens her back, and straightens her shoulders, showing me she’s not about to take crap from anyone.
Putting on a good face, she smoothly says, “I thought this man was being rude about office supplies, and he needed to be set straight before ruining the day for others.”
“Oh God.” Linus slaps his hand to his forehead and shakes it, probably humiliated at this point.
But I don’t waver. I continue to stare at Charlee, observing, taking her in, waiting to see if she cracks.
Impressively, she doesn’t.
She holds strong, firm with her answer, and that’s when I know without doubt.
She’s the girl I need.
Unfortunately.
I might regret this, no, I’m pretty sure I’ll regret this, given the fact that my mind is warning me off from what I’m about to do, but sometimes my gut outweighs my mind and right now, my gut is winning—she’s the one I need.
Standing from the table, I button my suit jacket and say, “You’re hired.”
I doubt two words have ever shocked her more in her life.
“What?” Her jaw hits the table.
“What?” Linus asks at the same time while snapping his head up.
Ignoring them both, I adjust the collar of my shirt and then the cuffs of my sleeves. “Starting salary is two fifty. It’s low, but I have yet to see you prove yourself. We offer a very comprehensive benefits package that will be introduced to you on Monday. Be at the office eight sharp. Go to HR, they’ll be waiting for you.” I look at Linus. “Thank you, Linus. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
Without another word, I take off, needing to get the hell out of this conference area and away from all things stationery.
“Thanks for meeting with me today.” Bram, my best friend, my frat brother, my soul mate, steeples his fingers together and takes a seat at the round kitchenette table in his apartment . . . that he shares with my sister.
This past year, Bram started dating my sister after apparently pursuing her for many years and when I say many, I mean ten. He was pining after her for ten long years and he finally made his move. It was a rocky start, and when I found out . . . boy, did I have words about it.
I looked my sister, Julia, straight in the eyes and I told her not to fuck anything up with Bram because he’s the best man I know, and I wouldn’t stand for her breaking his heart.
Not what you were expecting, were you? Thought I’d be the overbearing brother who threatens any man’s life who comes within twenty feet of my sister? Not this guy.
I was Team Bram. I couldn’t bear it if his heart was broken, not just because I love the guy and I’ve seen him naked more times than I care to admit, but because when he’s upset . . . he’s a whiny baby.