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“I'm certainly busy,” I reply. I’m keen to impress and eager to hear his thoughts. “I’ve digitized as many files as possible and archived the paper files in boxes.”
“I’ve been meaning to get around to it,” he says.
“I’ve got it under control.” I beam with pride at feeling useful. “What do you think of the new organizing system?”
He glances at the sleek whiteboard, but the hat casts a shadow over his piercing eyes. “It's an improvement,”
He reaches his desk and settles into the high-back chair. The supple leather molds to his form as he adjusts his posture, leans back, and puts his hands on the armrests. He looks like a king sitting on his throne.
“Great,” I reply. “I have more ideas I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure. As long as you don't hide the coffee or cookies, we'll get along fine.”
I shake my head. “Well, I was going to suggest switching them out with kale smoothies for a healthier working environment.”
Atlas’ eyes snap to mine, but he lets out an easy laugh when he sees my expression. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck.
“Let me know if you need anything else, and I can tackle it after hours.”
The corner of his mouth rises. “Why would you do that?”
I shrug. “I’m new in town. I’m used to being around a lot of people, and I haven't made friends yet. Until I get settled, I have extra time on my hands.”
“Do you come from a big family?”
Oh, boy. How am I supposed to answer that? “It’s not strictly true, but I suppose you could say I do.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Who’s being mysterious now? You sound like you were raised in a cult.”
I laugh. “Nothing like that, but I’m certainly not used to being alone.”
Atlas sits upright. “But when I interviewed you, you said you were fine working alone.”
Atlas
“I prefer it. I’m just not used to it yet,” Celeste says.
She reaches into the glass jar filled with an assortment of pens and plucks out a blue one. With effortless grace, Celeste approaches the whiteboard, divides it into rows, and writes the dates and days of the week perfectly.
She turns to me with a bright smile. “What do you have planned for the week?”
“I’m working on an ongoing investigation.”
“Fantastic!” she exclaims. “Where do you need to go? What type of equipment do you need? I'll make a checklist.”
I groan inwardly. Why am I attracted and irritated by her simultaneously?
Shaking my head, I reply, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t need help.”
Celeste tilts her head and gives me a look of disbelief. “Don’t you trust me? I am capable of multitasking.”
“Of course,” I reply, barely concealing my amusement. “But I don’t require field equipment because most of my work is office-based.”
“My specialty is forensic accounting; combing through databases and personal networks to gather information and utilizing my police connections to gather information.”
Celeste nods as she jots down all this information in her notepad. “Understood. Anything else?”
As my eyes skim over her curves, a wave of heat rises up my neck. She's so different from anyone I’ve ever met. So positive and bubbly.
