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She dressed better than any fucking person in Cedar Harbor, which was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t from around here. Her red shirt was satin, the heels that peeked out from under her desk weren’t fucking cheap, and I could guarantee that the gold necklace around her neck was real. Rigid back, chin up, naturally hard stare. The woman was built like a powerhouse—used to running a room. And ready to hand me my ass from the look on her face as she glanced up at the fucking clock.
No big deal. I was used to handling strong personalities.
“Ms…” I stalled as I scanned her desk for a nameplate. Nothing.
“Morrison,” she finished for me. Those gray eyes settled on mine, expectant and unyielding. “You can call me Ms. Morrison.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Morrison,” I said with a smile I knew was charming. She, however, was not charmed. If anything, the downward curve in her frown deepened. So much for good first impressions. “I have a meeting with Sebastian.”
“I know. You’re late, Killian Byrne,” she replied.
“No, I’m not late.” I checked the clock. Not late. “We said between four and five. It’s between four and five.”
“Any reasonable person looking to be hired would have been here at four rather than right before closing at five.” She stood, adjusting her skirt as she did. The woman exuded confidence and fucking ego as she strode across the room to Sebastian’s door. Without knocking, she let herself in.
“Jesus fuck,” I grumbled. A great fucking start to the afternoon. Ms. Morrison was probably telling Monroe not to hire me.
I dropped in a chair. Why did I fucking care so much? I had no desire to follow in Declan’s footsteps and become a lumberjack. That didn’t sound fucking pleasant, even if I did have the shirt to prove I was the best at it.
“What the fuck are you grinning at?”
I glanced up to see Sam standing in the doorway. He looked good all things considered, but he was also buried in a flannel jacket with a fucking beanie on his goddamn head so what did I know?
“Fucking lumber-snack king,” I scoffed. “Could I put that on my resume?”
“Only if you want to look like a douchebag,” he said. “Declan get you an interview?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I guess I need his help for that now too.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sam replied. “He means well. He’s got a lot more time on his hands. You get used to it.”
“How do you like working here?”
“It’s good.” He shrugged. “Work is steady, and they’re flexible with me for declining health reasons.”
“Declining health reasons?” I repeated with a frown, but he only stared at me pointedly. I repeated the phrase in my head a few times until it dawned on me. “Oh. Got it.”
In other words, when he was too much of a wolf to fucking human.
“That’s nice of them,” I commented. I made a playful check in the air to lighten the mood as if I didn’t notice the darkness in his expression as we danced around his issue. “Put that in the pro column.”
The door to Monroe’s office opened, and Ms. Morrison came right back out, those fancy fucking heels clicking on the hardwood. And fuck me, if Sam didn’t stand a little taller and take his hat off.
“Mr. Monroe is wrapping up something and will see you in a few minutes,” she said. Her entire demeanor changed when she realized Sam was standing right there. Softer? Yeah, she definitely softened. “Mr. Byrne.”
“Ms. Morrison,” he greeted with a smile—what the fuck was that look on his face? My gaze flicked between the two of them. I might as well have not been in the fucking room with the way they stared at one another.
Oh fuck me, she was the woman he was in love with.
“You’re Sloane!” I announced loudly before I could stop myself. Her head whipped in my direction. “Declan told me about you… about the front desk… you’re Sloane.”
“It’s Ms. Morrison to you,” Sloane replied.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I nodded. This woman would fucking kill me if I called her anything else.
“I’ll see you later, Killian,” Sam told me. “Have a good night, Ms. Morrison. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He was halfway out the door when she went after him.
