Page 4 of Winning Her Over

Sadly, my mother is one problem that I cannot conveniently forget or ignore. She’d never stand for that.

I shove my phone back in my bag and haul it out from under my desk, uncaring when it bangs around the legs of the desk and chair. It’s a Hermes bag and should be treated with more respect. Maybe I really am a spoiled brat, like my mother often calls me.

If that’s the case, I’ve learned from the best.

Getting to my feet, I walk over to Vanna’s desk. My bestie looks up with confusion.

“I need to leave,” I whisper, trying not to let on how much I hate this.

A sympathetic wince scrunches her face as she nods. “Your mother?” She whispers back.

“Always.”

Vanna doesn’t know what all goes on with my mother, but she knows enough.

Glancing over at the closed door across the room, she says, “I’ll tell Leland something came up.”

Despite the anxiety mother’s text caused, at the mention of his name, a burst of warmth tries to chase away the advancing numbness creeping over my limbs. For perhaps the hundredth time since I met him, I wish my life was less complicated and I could explore the growing feelings I have for our director.

But that’s not going to happen.

“I didn’t finish the tournament and brunch cross-referencing,” I admit. Though I don’t tell her that was more due to me wasting time thinking about Leland, than it being a long task. She picks on me enough about my silly infatuation.

My friend is not only sweet but a super coworker. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll finish it up.”

“Thanks, girl,” I mumble, trying not to tear up, as I’m overwhelmed by everything going on.

“Good luck.”

Without a look back, I flee work like IRS agents are beating down my door.

It’s what I imagine would be pretty close to that same pit in my stomach sensation I have now when I enter the upscale boutique on the west side of town and find a nervous saleswoman practically hopping from foot to foot as she waits for me. Her expression brightens immediately when she realizes who I am.

“Miss Dennis, thank you so much for coming. Follow me, please.” She turns on her tasteful heels and heads toward the back.

Straightening my shoulders, I attempt to project a calm façade and follow behind her, the sound of our heels echoing loudly in the empty store. I can handle this, I remind myself. Different store, same old bullshit.

What I can only assume is the manager gives me a grim nod from behind his desk when the saleswoman ushers me into a large, back store office with dreadfully harsh yellow lighting and announces me. “It’s Miss Dennis.”

My mother sits on the other side of his desk, looking bored and utterly beautiful in a peach pantsuit that perfectly suits her blonde hair and flawless complexion as she ignores everyone and scrolls through her phone as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Because of course she doesn’t. She creates the problems and everyone else is forced to clean them up.

The manager rises from his chair and extends his hand. I take it and wince at the feel of his dry palm against my damp one. If he notices it, he’s too kind to say anything.

“Miss Dennis, thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Absolutely, Mr.…” I trail off, feeling flustered.

“Evans. I’m Grant Evans, the owner.”

Licking my lips, I nod and turn my stare on mother. She pays me no mind. Now that I’m here, she can pretend again that I don’t exist.

Mr. Evans politely indicates the empty straight-backed metal chair next to my mother.

I quickly sit. To do anything else would be rude, and I’m not rude. Definitely not to the man that was polite enough to let Mother message me from his unattractive office versus the much less appealing city police station.

I sit and wait.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com