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The way she leaned heavily on the name Tim made him wince.
“It’s—it’s um, Jed, actually. I’m Jed, and I’m the temp from WorkForce,” he told her. “And I mean, I’d be angry, too, if I ate stuff like that. I’d be happy to run down the street and get you a sandwich.”
“A sandwich.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Sure. They have a great Cuban,” he offered. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rena draw a line across her throat and shake her head, but he ignored her and pushed his chair back. “Want some fries? Chips?”
“You’re the temp WorkForce sent me?”
Sent her?
Jed stilled, hands in his lap. “Um…” He flicked his gaze toward Rena but quickly looked back at the goddess. “Yes?”
“You’re answering my phones,” she mumbled as she tipped her chin down and rubbed her fingertips over the bridge of her nose. “God help me.”
“I mean, it’s not…hard.” He shrugged. The severe frown she sent his way when she looked at him again had him looking to Rena again for reinforcement.
“Even WorkForce is dredging the bottom of the buckets now?”
“Um.” Jed leaned forward, reaching his right hand out to point at her. “Excuse me, but I’m perfectly capable of answering the phones and transferring calls.” Granted, he’d lied on his resumé and said he had experience. Answering the phone at the pizza joint when he was sixteen probably didn’t count, but this frosty woman didn’t need to know that. The job entailed a bit more than transferring calls, but what college graduate today didn’t have computer skills that enabled them to schedule appointments and check people in on arrival?
“You kind of suck at finger football, though,” Rena told him as she dropped her fork into her container and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Dude, you were beating me by one field goal.”
“Yeah, but your lost shot was pretty bad.”
“Have you ever kicked a real field goal?” Jed snagged his cup as he scooted back in his chair. “Man, that’s harder than it looks.”
“Can’t say that I have.” She shook her head and stood. Their lunch hour was over. Jed wasn’t sure if he was relieved to get away from the scowling woman at the table or bummed to turn his back on her and walk out of the break room.
“I hope I won’t see any finger football at your desk,” the woman called as he and Rena headed out of the break room and down the hall.
“Well, seriously,” he mumbled. “Who would I play with at my desk?”
Rena snorted and dug her elbow into his ribs hard enough to hurt.
“Who was that scorching hot goddess?”
Unfortunately, he spoke as Rena tipped her bottle to her lips. She spit out a mouthful of water and covered her lips to hold in a laugh. Jed looked over his shoulder with a laugh.
“Holy cow,” she groaned. “Look at me. I’m a mess.”
She did have a big water spill down the front of her blouse now.
“Least it’s not coffee.”
Rena rolled her eyes. “That is Sloane Garrison.”
“And?” He tipped his head and arched his brows as if he could help Rena spit out more information.
“She’s the boss.”
Chapter Two
Sloane
“He’s not that bad.”
