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My phone rang again, and Natalie watched me like a hawk while I handled the call. When I was about to press a button, she hissed, and my finger froze midair. Reaching down, she jabbed a different button, successfully transferring the call for me.
“Ugh. I’m sorry. I’ll get this soon.” My cheeks were flaming hot again. I hated being bad at something that should have been simple. My college diploma did not prepare me for this.
She came around the desk and perched a hip beside my phone. “Honestly, no biggie. To tell you the truth, I hung up on the owner of this whole place on my second day. Saul freaking Goodman got my dial tone. And let me tell you, he did not find the humor in it.”
With that whiplash of a confession, Natalie ran through the phone system like she was talking to a child, and it was exactly what I needed. By the end of her lesson, I had pretty much caught on and felt fairly confident I wouldn’t hang up on anyone. For the most part.
She left me alone, retreating to her cubbyhole of an office at the rear of the lobby. She handled the main administrative work while I greeted everyone who came in, handled phone calls, and did anything else that was asked of me. Natalie was right, a trained monkeycoulddo this job. It was a stepping stone for me. My first big girl job post-college. The key to exiting struggleville for good.
A few people came and went over the next couple hours. A tall man with sunglasses on, taking long, confident strides across the shiny marble floor, really caught my attention, and I put on my best smile to greet him.
“Good morning. Welcome to Good Music,” I singsonged.
His steps slowed. He brought up his hand and pulled back his sleeve to check the chunky watch on his wrist. “It’s afternoon now.” Then he walked over to my desk, propping an elbow on it. “You’re not the girl who was here the last time I was in.”
“I’m not. This is my first day.” I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms. I was terrible at speaking to men, but this was part of my job. “Good afternoon. Can I help you with anything?”
He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing crystal clear blue eyes. “I don’t think so. Not now at least. I always need help with something, though. I’m Adam. What’s your name?”
My heart thrashed wildly in my chest. And it was from more than nerves. I had to swallow down a thick lump to answer him. “I’m Wren.” My lips strained to keep the smile plastered on my face.
This beautiful, famous man in front of me took no notice of my wobbly smile. “Wren? Like a little bird? That’s cute.”
Little Bird.
“No.” I shook my head harder than I should have. “Just Wren.”
He canted his head, still interested despite my sharp rebuke. “Ah...you have one of those rad, unique names that probably got you teased by the idiots you went to school with, huh?”
I nodded, swallowing hard again. “Yes. I really don’t like nicknames.”
“I feel you, Wren. Although, I still say Little Bird is cute as hell, like you.” He tapped his blunt fingertips. “How’s your first day going?”
My chest was in knots. Sweat beaded at my hairline. I was about thirty seconds from vomiting. “It’s going great.” That was all I could wrench out of me.
His brow lowered, and he leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re nervous. Is it the job, or am I doing that to you?”
From the way he raked his pretty eyes over me, it seemed like he hoped he was the cause of my shaky answers and sweaty palms. And he was, in a way, but not directly.
For once, I willed my phone to ring, but it remained silent.Traitor. And Adam Wainwright, lead guitarist for The Seasons Change, seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He was enjoying the sight of me quite literally quaking in my boots.
“A mixture of both, I think,” I squeezed out.
His mouth opened to reply, or flirt, or tease, but another man entered the building behind him, and the gust of icy wind from outside pulled both our eyes in that direction.
Callum Rose was impossible not to recognize. Bass player for The Seasons Change, his rockabilly style would have been distinguishable without his towering height and shoulder-length blond hair. Callum didn’t so much stride as he did saunter, his hands tucked snugly in a fitted leather jacket, the chain hanging from his belt loops bouncing softly on the side of his leg.
Black spots danced in my vision. If he spoke to me, I would faint. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I should have prepared for the possibility of seeing him here, but I hadn’t. And the reality of seeing Callum in person was far beyond any feeble preparations I could have made anyway.
“S’up, man?” Adam greeted him. Callum tipped his chin and rolled a toothpick along his lips like a character from a James Dean film. His blue eyes swept over me like I was a piece of furniture.
And then...he kept going, passing us both without even a slight pause, to take the elevators up to the third floor. Adam snorted at my vacant expression.
“Don’t bother with pleasantries with good ol’ Cal. He’s a man of very few words.” Adam’s brow lowered, and his sparkling blue eyes locked on me. “You can save the sweet for me. I can’t get enough of it.”
Sucking in a ragged breath, I forced my lips to curve. “Does that line work for you often?”
Chuckling, he patted the desk with both hands and took a step back. “Oh, you have no idea. See you soon, sweet Wren.”
As soon as he was gone, I folded in half, looping my arms under my thighs, and sucked in deep breaths that only mildly calmed my racing pulse. It was the stinging in my eyes that was the true problem. If I cried on my first day at work, I’d never be able to live it down. Even if no one saw me do it, I would know. And that was...no.
I wouldn’t cry over Callum Rose. I’d done enough of that three and a half years ago. The man who made me fall in love with his words then broke my heart when our eyes first met. I had been as invisible to him then as I was now.
My eyes dried. My spine stiffened. Everything was fine. I had a great new job. My family was healthy and taken care of. My outfit was cute, despite Natalie’s obvious disdain. I’d just been flirted with by a rock star.
The phone rang, and I answered with my cheeriest greeting.
I managed to transfer the caller without hanging up.
Everything was definitely fine.
