Absolutely not.
When IT inevitably catches wind of it, will I have to explain it to them?
Absolutely.
Do I care?
Not in the least.
The only thing I can seem to care about these days is whether or not June gets her way, and in this case, I want her to get those tickets.
Most of the contests close tonight or tomorrow, so if by Wednesday she hasn’t heard anything, I’ll have to take adifferent approach to make her hopes come true. I have a few feelers out to friends to see if I can get tickets for the festival and stage it as if she’s won them, but that’s my last line of defense. In my perfect world, June would win the tickets through the contest she showed me, and believe that, once again, her luck is making everything work out.
It’s sick and twisted, but I love nothing more than the little smile that lights up her face when she thinks something has worked out for her. The way her eyes light up with excitement anytime something lucky happens to her, the way she looks at me with those wide, joy-filled, summer sky blue eyes, eager to share the news of her latest windfall with me.
It’s why I haven’t been able to stop myself from making it happen at every turn.
The first day I met her, despite my miles-long to-do list, she was the only thing I could think of for the rest of the night. The next morning, I spent nearly two hours at the coffee shop she recommended, hoping she would stroll in and I could bump into her, talk to her, prove to myself that just like every other person I’ve met, this obsession was fleeting and surface-level.
I did the same thing every morning for a week, and by Friday, I was ready to throw in the towel, to return to sanity, to try and forget the woman who had ruled my thoughts for nearly a week.
Then she walked into Daytrip that afternoon, and something snapped in me. I caught the tiniest glimpse of her on the security camera I had up to keep an eye on for the new contractor coming in to give me a progress update.
It felt like fate, like the kind of luck or universal push she’s always going on about.
Giving her the job was an impulse, a desire to learn a little bit more about the woman who had consumed my thoughts. I needed to know if she really was sunshine personified or if it was fake, some perfectly crafted act I couldn’t quite understand.
I convinced myself it was logical. She needed a job, and Sutton had work for Rowan, so she couldn’t be here forever. I needed someone who lived in the area to help me out.
“Sutton,” I said, the words coming out harsher than anticipated.
“Yes?” she asked.
“There is a woman who just walked into the building. She needs a job.” Her face scrunched up, part confused and part irritated, as seems to be her way with me. Rowan had sent her to keep an eye on the place and fill in gaps for me, since I didn’t have an assistant of my own. He offered to let me hire one time and again, but I kept turning him down, wanting to prove I could manage this job on my own.
Until right now.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, rightfully confused.
“A woman is coming into the back room in a few minutes with the head of Taylor Contracting. I want you to offer her a job.”
She continued to stare at me, lost and a bit concerned. I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Offer…offer a stranger a job?”
I knew it sounded completely ridiculous. I knew that it was so far out of the realm of common sense. I knew all of these things, but it felt like some kind of sign from a power I didn’t realize I believed in until just then. Luck, or the universe, or fate, I didn’t know, nor did I care. I just knew I hadn't been able to focus on work for five days after a mere five-minute interaction, and now she was here in my business, and I needed her out of my system.
“Yes. An assistant position. I’ll need someone to help out once the resort opens, and you have to go back to your real job.”
Her brows furrowed, but if there was one thing that I’d learned from my weeks of working with Sutton Donovan, it was that she loved chaos and she loved a scheme.
She smiled knowingly, then shrugged. “Okay.” She grabbed her tablet, tapped a few times to find what she was looking for, and then turned it to me. “This was my position when I started, and is what Rowan has approved for you if you ever wanted an assistant of your own. Does this look right?” I barely even looked before nodding. “All right, I’m on it,” she said, then headed out of my office.
I got absolutely nothing done in the next thirty minutes, staring at the door and waiting for her to return. When she did, there was a wide, pleased grin on her lips.
“Done. She’s going to be perfect for you.”
Every day since then, I have wondered whether she meant she was perfect for the job of my assistant or if Sutton knew something I didn’t.
