Chapter 12
Kill.Me. Now.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” My dad saunters into the room, a knowing look in his eye as Junie jumps off my desk, color flooding her cheeks.
I’m suddenly aware of how this looks. Me, with my secretary, alone in my office after everyone else has gone home. I’m also very aware of how this scene would have played out if Dad hadn’t popped in. How close I’d come to…
No. I can’t even think it. I don’t know what I’d almost come close to doing, but I can’t put a name to it or it will start to take over my brain, and I really need my brain working at full capacity.
I have to come up with an excuse. Some explanation. Office relationships are a huge no-no with my dad. Even before he found out about Mom’s affair with a colleague, Dad always drilled this into my head. Business relationships stay professional. Period. It’s one of the biggest reasons I included the relationship clause in Junie’s contract, for her good as well as mine.
Dad smiles wide, eyes on Junie, and reaches his hand out. “Hi there. Frederick Ferguson, but you can call me Fred. Owen, I had no idea you were dating anyone. At least, I assume she’s your girlfriend,” he says, giving me a pointed look.
Here’s the thing: Dad isn’t a saint. As soon as he found out about Mom’s affair, he went out and found his own much younger mid-life crisis, but she wasn’t a business associate. I don’t go out of my way to impress him any more than I do Mom, but growing up, he was still the parent I went to. Mom was hard. Dad was…maybe not soft, but more friendly than Mom was. He’s a salesman. He’s supposed to be friendly on the outside.
The only good family memories of my childhood involve Kiera, and the second-best involve my dad. I can’t bear the thought of him knowing Junie is my secretary. It would infuriate him to no end, and suddenly, I’d be as much a disappointment to him as Mom was.
But I also can’t lie to him. Not about this. Not when it involves Junie in this way. Pretending she was a secretary with Mom was one thing, but this? This would make me an even more despicable human being than I already am.
The choice in front of me is impossible. I’m stuck. Frozen. For the space of three whole seconds, it’s like I’ve glitched.
But then I feel Junie’s arm wrap around my waist under my jacket, and oh, wow, that feels good.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ferguson. I’m Junie.” She offers a smile and her other hand which Dad takes.
“Junie,” Dad repeats. “You are as sunny and warm as your name suggests.”
“Actually, my full name is Juniper, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless, Mr. Ferguson.”
Juniper. Her full name rolls around my thoughts like a breath of fresh air through the mountains. Did I know her full name before this moment? Probably not, or I wouldn’t be reacting like this.
“Well, Juniper, you can call me Fred. Mr. Ferguson was my father.”
“Okay, Fred, you can call me Junie. Juniper is the name of a tree.”
She winks at him, and just like that, she’s got my dad wrapped around her little finger. I can see it in his eyes. The way he’s looking at her, you’d think she told him she’s pregnant with his grandbaby. How does she do that? How does she manage to charm every single male she meets with a smile and a few words?
Junie pinches my side lightly, and I jump, realizing they’re both looking at me.
“I don’t think he heard you.” She’s holding back laughter.
“No.” Dad chuckles. “His mind is obviously on other things. I said that I was hoping to get here before your sister left, but traffic held me up, and now it looks like I’m too late.”
Yay. I love surprises. Lucky sister.
“Oh, uh, yeah, she’s gone.”
Junie leans into me a little more. “And I was stopping by to see if I could pull this guy away from work a little earlier than usual.” She nudges my side, hard, as if to say, What is wrong with you? Act normal!
But how can I act normal when Junie’s curves are pressed against me and I’m desperately trying not to notice them?
“Ah, yes. My son is quite the workaholic. A trait he learned from his parents, I’m afraid.”
Ah, yes. There it is, the salt for my wound.
I write myself a little memo in my head: stop being a workaholic.
“So, Dad.” I clear my throat because I sound a little strangled. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming to town.”
“Unfortunately, I have a little business with your mother.” The word comes out as a low growl, and I can’t help wincing. “I was going to see if you and Kiera wanted to grab some dinner with me, but I assume you’ll be busy with your girlfriend.”
My face flames. “Dad,” I growl. I can’t be the only one who heard the emphasis he put on the word busy.
“No, no, don’t cancel any plans on my account. If I were you, I’d rather spend my night with a beautiful young woman too. We’ll have dinner this Saturday, me, you, and your sister. Hall’s Chophouse at seven.”
At the mention of the high-end restaurant’s name, I start scrambling for another option. I hate going out to eat with my dad almost as much as I hate the thought of Mother having a share in my company. The meal doesn’t end until my father has his dish sent back to the chef at least twice and he’s too tipsy on their most expensive wine.
I rack my brain for another restaurant, but now Junie’s thumb is kind of moving back and forth against my ribs and I want to lean into it and kick my leg like a dog being scratched in his sweet spot.
“Um, actually, what if I cook for you and Kiera?” It’s not ideal, but cooking for my father won’t be half as painful as the alternative.
Dad’s eyebrows lift as he considers the idea, but it’s Junie’s reaction I’m honed in on. Her head swivels, and I can feel her eyes on me. “You can cook?” she asks, surprised.
I shrug. “I’m alright. I thought it might be nicer to catch up in a more relaxed environment. Besides, you know how Kiera gets about stuffy restaurants.”
Dad rolls his eyes, and I can see I’ve won him over. “True. You win. Now, I’ve got to see a man about a horse.” He chuckles at his own lame joke, and after a few more awkward exchanges, he finally leaves.
As I watch him go, I’m still entwined with Junie. Each step he takes toward the elevator brings both relief and pain. I’m this much closer to being able to distance myself from Junie, but also I’m this much closer to having to distance myself from Junie.
When the elevator doors shut, I withdraw my arm, and Junie does the same. I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a bit of reluctance, but then I remind myself I’m her boss and a relationship with her is not only a bad idea, it’s also against the contract we both signed.
We stand there awkwardly for a moment until I clear my throat. “Miss Cousins.”
She swallows hard. “Yes, Mr. Ferguson?” Worry lines etch into her forehead, and I have the sudden desire to press them smooth with the pad of my thumb.
“You’re the best freaking secretary I’ve ever had.”
I’m afraid she won’t get the reference and that I’ll regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but then Junie beams at me, and I forget why I held that compliment back from her in the first place.
“Seriously, I don’t deserve you. I panicked back there.”
“Yeah, I could sort of tell.” Her eyes drop, and more worry lines appear. I hate it. I never want to be the cause of those lines again. “I hope what I did doesn’t violate the relationship clause in any way.”
Oh. Right. That stupid contract.
“What you did was the lesser of two evils,” I say, clenching my fists to keep from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Get a hold of yourself. This doesn’t change anything. “Trust me, if my dad found out you were my secretary, he would have flipped his lid.”
“Gotcha…”
There’s another awkward pause. Despite all the conflicting emotions flooding my system, there’s one thought blazing through it all like a neon sign: make it up to her. She didn’t have to save my butt like that, but she did. After everything I’ve put her through having to work with me, it’s not enough to say thank you.
“Miss Cousins, is there anything I can do for you?”
She looks thoughtful for a moment, then she meets my eyes. “Actually, there is something I need help with, but it’s kind of a big ask…”
“Anything. Name it.” And I mean it. Like, I’d come to work wearing a purple polka-dotted suit tomorrow if she asked me to.
“Are you handy with a hammer?”