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He wished she would flirt with him.
“Temp? Are you listening?”
“It’s Jed,” he corrected her, “and yes. Patterson tax prep files on your desk. Call Duane Helmke and remind him you need his tax forms.”
He scribbled as he wrote, wondering what she was wearing today. Now. Yoga pants? Good grief. The thought of her long, lean legs in yoga pants made his mouth go dry. Maybe shorts. Maybe Sloane Garrison wore those tiny little athletic shorts some women favored. Probably black, he decided, since she seemed to be all business. Maybe a sports bra—
“Jed.”
Her voice rang in his ear. Loud and clear. Tinged with frustration. He’d missed something. Thinking about what his boss looked like in workout gear. Right. Bad idea. Not a good thing to envision a colleague—his boss—in sexy workout gear.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
This time her sigh conveyed her irritation with him. “Can you transfer me to Rena?”
He wondered what Rena could do for her that he couldn’t, but he wasn’t about to ask. He hadn’t even started his bookkeeping responsibilities, and already he was stressed about it. He’d taken an entry level business class in college, but the book had talked about accounting. Not how to do accounting.
“You bet. Hang on.”
“Hanging.”
He heard her mumbled response as he pulled the handset from his ear and reached to tap the buttons to transfer the call to Rena.
Thankfully, he’d met Rena first. They’d hit it off well enough that he would consider her a work friend already. Which meant surely, she would take pity on him and show him the basics of bookkeeping, right?
And maybe tell him how to get in with Sloane Garrison.
Chapter Four
Sloane
Sloane came up for air after two solid hours of crunching numbers. Her rear end was numb, even though her office chair was well-padded, and her eyeballs ached from reading, writing, adding, and subtracting numbers. The loosey-goosey, pliant feeling from her workout was long gone after working, hunched over at her desk, for so long. She needed aspirin. Or caffeine. Maybe a massage. And a winning lottery ticket.
Funny.
She snorted softly as she pressed her palms to her desktop, pushed her chair back, and stood. She didn’t buy lottery tickets, so a winning ticket wouldn’t happen. She didn’t play in the stock market; she didn’t bet on the Super Bowl. Nothing. Simple, vanilla Sloane Garrison was not a rule breaker. She was a hardworking professional woman and proud of it.
Still, a girl could dream. A winning lottery ticket would buy her airfare to somewhere tropical where she could lay on a beach and sip fruity drinks all day. And if she were dreaming, she might as well throw in a pool boy or beach waiter or whatever they were called. Someone easy on the eyes. Maybe a tan. Maybe short sandy-blond hair and 1950’s style sideburns.
“Oh boy.” She squeezed her eyes closed and reached up to rub the back of her neck. She had just inserted that new temp kid into her daydreams. That was not only unacceptable; it was ridiculous. If he just graduated from college, she was nearly ten years older than him. While she had dated men ten years her senior and might do so again, she couldn’t imagine dating someone that much younger than her.
Time for a walk through the office. She’d use the ladies’ room and grab a bottle of water. And then get back to work. Once upon a time, she’d had five people working for her—one answering the phones and scheduling appointments, two in bookkeeping, and two certified public accountants. Now she had two people—Yes, Rena was a CPA and more than capable of doing everything Sloane did and then some. But the other current employee was iffy, to say the least.
When she finished in the restroom, she wandered by Rena’s office only to find it empty. The light was on, and when Sloane stepped closer to her desk, she saw a spreadsheet on the computer screen. Curious where the woman had gone, Sloane stepped back into the hallway. She heard voices as she got closer to the reception area.
“Okay. So I’m authorizing a check made payable to Stenson Feed from Bingham Farms. And then I’m going to file that under…what?”
“It’s an expense.”
Sloane slowed her steps when she saw Rena bent over Jed’s desk.
“But do I have to do more detailed categories?”
“Just an expense,” Rena repeated.
“Accounting 101?” Sloane asked as she crossed the room to stand at the desk with them. Rena straightened slowly to turn and look at her, but Jed didn’t take his eyes from his screen.
“Just helping Jed brush up a bit,” Rena said innocently. Sloane folded her arms over her chest and nodded.
