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“I hope not. You know what’s on the line. I need everyone pulling their weight around here.” I’m curious how she fits into the puzzle and am tempted to pull up her employment file.
“I will. Trust me, I’ll be working harder around here than anyone else. I can’t afford to lose this job.” Her voice is filled with anxiety, and I get the feeling there’s more to this than she’d let on yesterday.
“I know you weren’t there for the whole spiel, but the others don’t realize yet what’s on the line. I’d like to keep it that way.” I scan her face carefully. Office rumors travel faster than the speed of light, and I need this woman’s cooperation.
“Don’t you think they have a right to know how dire the situation is?” Elana asks.
“They do, to a point.” I lean back and put my hands behind my neck. “I can’t have everyone giving up hope. If that happens, we’re toast.”
Elana swallows and grasps her travel mug hard enough for her knuckles to turn white.
“I promise, I will tell everyone well in advance if I don’t think we can land the account and keep the production company from shutting down.” I continue to watch her and see nothing but raw fear on her face. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. I’m very good at what I do.”
Elana finally nods. “What can I do to help?”
“What do you do around here?” I ask, hoping to keep her out of my hair as much as possible. The last thing I need right now is a distraction in boots that make her shapely legs look even longer than they are.
“I’m your production assistant.” Elana’s expression changes to one that exudes confidence.
Great. She’ll be my right hand and the key to pulling this miracle off.
Chapter Three
Elana
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to move back home? Your Uncle Herbert would be happy to offer you a job at the school.” My mom takes another sip of coffee. It’s our last morning together. After brunch, she’ll head back home to Hayden Falls.
“My life is here, Mom. I have a good job, a nice place to live. I like it here.” I’d hoped the extended visit would convince her that my life was in Wilmington.
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with that handsome neighbor of yours.” Her eyes twinkle as they come to the kitchen window that looks out to his property.
“His name is Ryan, and he also happens to be my boss. We’ve been over this.” I shake my head. From the moment my mother made the acquaintance of Ryan Matthews, she’s been in full matchmaker mode. No matter how much I try to explain that our relationship is strictly professional, she’s determined to set us up on a date. Thankfully, Ryan has refused them all, citing urgent home renovation tasks. But he doesn’t know my mother. She’s anything if not persistent, and even the remote chance of grandbabies turns her into a meddling mess you can’t shake.
“I know the young man’s name. And that’s no excuse. You two should go out on a date. You’re already spending most of your days together.” She looks at me with so much excitement and hope in her eyes I almost hate to dash them. If such a feat was possible.
“We’re working together. That’s it. Our relationship is strictly professional.”
“Pish posh. I see the way you look at him when you think no one is paying attention,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee. “And the way he practically devours you, especially in that blue sundress.”
“He does?” I know my mistake is fatal, the moment I see her react to my flash of interest. Biting back a groan, I try to come up with a way to backpedal this.
“Of course he does. It’s obvious to anyone but the two of you that you have chemistry.” Mom sits back in her chair and crosses her leg, a smug expression on her face that doesn’t bode well. I’m pretty sure I can look forward to daily check-ins and requests for progress reports. The only bit of saving grace is that my mom doesn’t know anyone else I work with. If she had an accomplice behind enemy lines, there’s no telling what she would do.
“We don’t.” I shake my head for emphasis, but I’m not convincing either one of us. The fact that Ryan walks out in jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination, isn’t helping either. The way he carries an entire wooden door on his shoulder is impressive. I commit the image to memory so I can properly drool over it later. Not now. Not in front of my mom.
“I better get going.” She’s watching Ryan as well. He’s busy balancing the door on two sawhorses.
“Right. It’s a long drive back. Do you want to take any of this with you?” I vaguely wave across the scrambled eggs, waffles, and bacon that’s sitting on the table, along with a bowl of berries.
“I’m fine. But it would be a shame to waste all this food. Why don’t you invite Ryan over for a late breakfast? He looks like he could use it.” Mom actually winks at me and walks into the spare bedroom to grab her bags.
“Not happening,” I call after her, hoping she wouldn’t extend the invitation directly to the man on her way to her car.
“No, no, no….” I groan, looking at the mess in front of me. Sudsy water is pouring from the washing machine and making its way across the tiled kitchen floor. In a moment, it will reach the hardwood in the living room. I run to the wall and turn the water off. The red flower-shaped knob comes off in my hand, and the water keeps rushing out of the leaking machine.
I throw an armful of dirty towels on the floor to soak up the worst of it and call Mr. Jones. No answer. “Great. Now what am I supposed to do?”
I scroll through my phone and land on Ryan’s contact information. I’ve been doing my best to stay away from the man since my mother had invited him over for breakfast and he’d awkwardly declined the offer, his face turning red when she informed him it would be just the two of us. “Cozy,” she’d called it, and Ryan had run faster than a chicken when it hears the bag of scratch being opened. He was back inside his place before Mom pulled out into the street.
