Page 1 of His Temporary Assistant

One

Just when I thought my day—week, month, life—couldn’t get any worse, my assistant said she was taking a vacation.

In a week.

Not a year.

Not a month.

A week.

“Look, sir, I’m really sorry. I never expected to get this opportunity. My grandmother was supposed to go to Fiji on her honeymoon, but they broke up, and Biff is taking the Tahoe so she’s taking the vacation.”

I pressed a fingertip to my aching temple. “Biff? Your grandmother? Fiji?”

“He’s taking the Tahoe,” my assistant April repeated slowly, leaning forward. Her blond hair fell down around her shoulders, escaping whatever pinned-up thing she’d done in the back. Unless that was the style.

Must be. April Finley was never anything but perfectly put together.

Before today, she’d also never been late. Or taken a vacation beyond a standard and reasonable long weekend. She’d called in sick precisely twice and worked from home.

“We had an agreement.” My voice remained even. “I hired you on the spot approximately eighteen months ago on the condition you realized this was not a position that afforded you—”

“What, I can’t take some time for myself?” Unlike my own, her voice rose in pitch to match the lifting asymmetrical hem of her dress. Not to indecent levels, mind you, because April was always proper.

Yet somehow my lack of sleep and brewing tension headache was bringing to mind ocean waters creeping higher on the Titanic.

The dress was sea blue too. Or hmm, was that more of a blue-green? I never did get why women had so many colors for things.

Look at my closet. I had black and navy suits. More navy than black because it was less severe for court. My tie collection was more colorful, but I certainly didn’t know the names for the damn shades. Who had time for all that nonsense?

Not me. I didn’t even have time to complete the work on my plate. I also didn’t have time to further engage in this conversation.

April was still blathering on about mud masks and self-care and did I realize how long it had been since she’d even slept in?

No, I could honestly say I didn’t.

“What exactly does that mean? I rise every day at precisely four.”

She stopped mid-tirade and stared. “You what—why?” She tapped a glossy pale nail against her mouth. “Actually, that’s better than I assumed. Rising means you sleep.”

“Not necessarily,” I said under my breath.

That certainly wasn’t the case this month. My father was on the verge of retirement, which meant we would be looking to hire a new partner soon, and my brother and I were overloaded with work. Well, I was overloaded. Dex was strictly a nine-to-fiver—sometimes a ten-to-twoer if the water looked good. In the winter, he was all about the slopes.

I wasn’t just talking about skiing. He made just as good use of the lodge as he did the hills. The guy dated more women in a year than I had in my entire life.

I was too busy working. And that was when I’d had an assistant.

Dear God, how was I going to get through a week without April? She kept my life running smoothly. Or at least it was less bumpy than it could’ve been without her.

“You remind me to eat,” I said accusingly.

She frowned. “No, I don’t. You just saw me with a donut or a sandwich a few times.”

“Right,

but seeing you with food reminds me I haven’t eaten.”

“Sir, your growling stomach should do that without my help.”

As if I paid attention to such physical cues.

I would soon find out exactly how good I’d had it before.

Before vacations.

Before retirements.

Before I’d succumbed to a life of no meals and no sleep.

I grunted. “This is not enough notice. How am I supposed to hire a temp in,” I consulted my Apple watch, “six days, eighteen hours and eleven minutes?”

“I know it’s short notice.”

“Short? Try miniscule.”

“But I have the perfect solution.”

My shoulders unknotted for the first time since she’d walked into my office. “You’ve decided to cancel?”

April scowled. Until today, I’d never seen anything but a serene, unruffled expression on my assistant’s face. That was one reason I appreciated her so much. She wasn’t prone to mood swings.

Mood swings were a good part of why I was single. My mother had enough of them to change the weather from across town.

I didn’t need any additional stress in my life. The calmer a woman was, the better. That went for men too, although that was a different dynamic because I didn’t get naked with them.

For that matter, I didn’t get naked with women much recently either.

Moving on.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com