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Why did the start of a new workweek make Mia feel like she was sitting on death row? Maybe that was a little dramatic. But it certainly made her stomach twist in knots she doubted even the most accomplished illusionist could untangle. If this was her first day in her quest to choose happiness, she was off to a poor start.
“Are you coming out tomorrow?” a soft voice from the welcome desk asked Mia.
“If I say no, does that mean you can’t retire? That you’ll stay here forever with me?” Mia asked the head barely visible behind the raised countertop it sat behind. She looked down at the tiny woman whose face she wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing every morning after today. And since there were so few pleasures in this company, losing Mrs. Durris was an ache Mia felt in her core.
“Oh, Mia … I’m going to miss you most of all. You’re as bright and colorful as the flowers you brought in this morning.” She nodded her head to the table in the middle of the lobby. While that may have been true when they first met a couple of years ago, time at this establishment had turned Mia into something more comparable to the vase of flowers she’d just pitched. Certainly not the fresh blooms that sat there now.
Mia came around the desk to give the older woman a hug. “What am I going to do without you here?” The receptionist was one of the few remaining decent people left at this place. When the original CEO—a warm, decent, ethically sound man—retired a year and a half ago, the board replaced him with his exact opposite … who then seized every opportunity to hire more and more people whose morals were as cloudy as the weather outside the large windows in the lobby.
“You’ll carry on just fine without me, hun.”
Yep. She’d carry on. Put one foot in front of the other, just as she’d always done each work day as she trudged through this place.
“Monday morning meeting in five, Miss Wheeler.” Mia froze like a statue, fitting since the man who’d just spoken had a body that someone should have immortalized in stone by now. Of course, Mia hadn’t known that until she saw him at her gym this weekend, shooting hoops with his cousin, as he’d explained. Although the details were a little fuzzy on her end. He could have said he was playing ball with the Pope, for all she knew. It was really hard to hear him over his muscular arms. Was that possible? She got a chill just thinking about them. The deep timbre of his voice was enough to make her chest vibrate. And the richness of it … if every other man’s voice was milk chocolate, Ben’s was Hershey’s Special Dark.
“Be right there,” she chirped, a sound that was a cross between a mouse and the adolescent girl she’d been when she’d played in the dirt with his mom and pretended like she didn’t have a crush on him. Just wonderful.
“Hm.” Mrs. Durris’s eyes widened as her brow rose like a fisherman caught it in his hook. “What was that all about?”
Mia didn’t need a mirror to know her cheeks were the shade of the strawberries she’d put in her oatmeal for breakfast. The burn was as good a confirmation as anything. “He wanted to make sure I wasn’t late. Ben hates when people are late. And I don’t want to make him wait.” Calm down, Dr. Seuss.
Ben’s punctuality was one of his most prominent personality traits, a stark contrast to the loose, carefree teen who spent the better part of his summers shirtless in swim trunks, sipping Capri Sun, while he did yard work for his mother. Great—now she was wondering what adult-Ben looked like without a shirt, which didn’t help her flaming cheeks. There was an out-of-control forest fire situation on her face. Somewhere, Smokey the Bear was shaking his head in disappointment.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mia. And, oh yeah—Ben said he’s coming too.”
Mia’s ankle buckled, rolling it in a way ankles weren’t meant to move. Why hadn’t she worn flats today?
“But Ben never comes out for work things like this.” It wasn’t a complete surprise. He’d taken a liking to Mrs. Durris too. He was, after all, one of the last hires before the new CEO took over.
“Maybe he finally realizes how much fun he’s been missing out on.” Her eyebrows danced on her forehead, and Mia doubted the fun she was referring to was the workplace kind. And if Mia didn’t quell the shades of crimson now spreading down her neck, Mrs. Durris was going to get the wrong idea about her feelings for Ben.
Once upon a time, she’d fantasized about him—well, as much as a preteen could fantasize about a high school sophomore while potting petunias with his mother.
But in her senior year, something changed. Their friendly banter stiffened, and she’d thought it was her imagination, but he seemed to make himself scarce whenever she’d come around. She tried not to take it personally, but shortly after her eighteenth birthday, he made a comment about her still being a child—something of a sore topic for her, since her father lived to make her feel the same. So, this “child” packed her bags and went off to college, lost all contact with Ben, and vowed to end this crush on him once and for all. A solid plan that had been working … until her first day at Ingram Investments. Turned out, crushes were pesky little things, and they didn’t care if someone was your coworker. Or boss.
Mia peered down the hallway where Ben had disappeared to. “Fun doesn’t seem like something he’s into these days.” Something else about him that’d changed in the time since she’d known him.
“You never know. It’s not always easy to find out what makes people tick.” Mrs. Durris shrugged, then sat back in her chair. Wasn’t that the truth, though? All along, Ben had been this light—a bright ball of energy that pulled everyone close and made them feel warm. Now he was more like a refrigerator—clean and sterile. Although Mia’s fridge was currently in a state of disarray, with bits of flowers scattered about. So, maybe not the best analogy.
She hobbled down the hallway to the meeting room, the usual rhythmic cadence of her heels sounding like a pirate with a peg leg, thanks to her tender ankle and slight limp.
“Mia, you’re late,” a whiny voice greeted her. Was Darren alerting her of her faux pas or whimpering like a three-year-old who’d just been denied ice cream before dinner? The tone certainly was the same.
She looked at the digital clock on the wall. “It’s 8:58, Darren.”
“Congratulations, you can tell time.” Was it just her, or had his tone gotten even more nasally? Okay, she was being petty. But putting up with this man for two years had gotten her to this point. Now that he was her boss’s boss, she hoped maybe he’d lighten up on her a little. Obviously, she was wrong. “You know what I always say: if you can’t be on time, be early.”
“But she is on time,” a deep voice rumbled from behind. She swallowed audibly before she turned to face him—all six-foot-four of the boy-next-door-turned-brooding-boss.
“You can stay out of this, Ben,” Darren snapped.
Mia watched the flex in Ben’s forearms, his veins more pronounced as he gripped the iPad in his hand. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, something he’d always done whenever he was angry. “But I’m very much in this, seeing as I’ve arrived after her, making me later.”
Darren crossed his arms and looked up at Ben. “So, you want me to scold you too?”
“No,” Ben said with a shrug as he placed his iPad on the table and pulled out a chair. His voice and movements were smooth, but the flare of his nostrils remained. “I just want you to play fair.”
Darren raised his chin another couple of inches. Any more, and he’d need a trip to the chiropractor when all was said and done. “Fair’s the only way I play,” he tutted.
