15. Daisy
15
DAISY
I ’ve been here for a week, and I feel like I’m part of the furniture at the distillery already, and with the hours I’m working, I might as well be. I’m usually here early and leave late, but I love it. I knew that I would enjoy the change, and I was excited about the challenge, but I’ve never loved something as much as building this spa business, being here in a small town, and creating something from scratch. It’s like I arrived and suddenly everything in my life just clicked. The feelings I get from doing the work and being in this small pocket of the world just feel right.
“So, is it everything you wanted it to be?” Trisha asks as we chat on the phone, our first real conversation since I left the city, even though it’s noon on a Wednesday.
“It is. More so, really. I mean, the job is great, but Whispers is…” I say to her, pausing to think of the right word. Not wanting to understate my feelings, yet not wanting to totally fangirl over this new town that has captured my heart in an instant.
“Cold? Barren? Full of old, sleazy farmers who can’t get it up?” she asks, and I laugh.
“No. It’s beautiful. The fresh air is amazing, and my sleep in the quiet of the night is the best I’ve ever had.” I don’t miss the sirens and noise of the city that filtered through my small bedroom window every night.
“How’s the good-looking, arrogant boss with the big balls?” she asks, and at the mention of Connor, my body hums. Warmth spreads through my joints like I’m lying out in the sunshine for the first time all year, and I look up at my office door to ensure he isn’t spying again.
“He’s the trifecta,” I huff out, defeated. I tried hating him, and at first, he made it easy. But now I feel like the goalposts have moved a little, and I have to admit, I’ve never met a man like him before.
“Holy shit,” she says in shock. Trisha and I often score her dating potentials based on a few things. Usually, most men have one or two things, but never all three, and while Connor and I still have some resistance to each other, I think we crossed the threshold the other night in my office, moving from insulting each other to admiring each other. He spent time going through staffing solutions with me, crunching numbers, working potential rosters. He didn’t need to do any of it, and no doubt had a million other things to do, but he did, and we worked well together. Too well.
Which isn’t great, because now not only is he devastatingly handsome, but his arrogance has decreased, the suave-o-meter has increased, and I’ve seen his passion for the work he does on full display, not to mention his business smarts. So he’s the trifecta. Good-looking, smart, and somewhat charming.
“Yeah, well, first impressions obviously weren’t great, and he still carries an air of arrogance, but he’s so smart and this distillery of his is amazing,” I tell her, looking around my office and appreciating how indulgent it is. I’m not even sure the five-star spas in New York could rival this.
“Soooo, been on a date yet?” She fishes for information.
“Oh no. That’s not happening,” I state clearly, needing to instill that fact not only into this conversation, but also into my brain. “I said he was a trifecta, not that I’m going to do anything about it. He’ll remain a trifecta from a distance. It was simply an observation on my behalf.” Scrubbing my eyes, I will the thoughts about Connor to go away, far, far away. “We work together. I’m here for a month, and he’s the owner of this place. There’s no way we can cross that line.”
“Come on, Daisy. Rules are there so we can break them,” she says, full of cheeky confidence, confidence that I just don’t have when it comes to the opposite sex.
I release a sigh. “Not that one. Don’t fall in love with your boss is the almighty rule that’s never to be broken.”
“Who said anything above love, Daisy? Why not just go for hot, sweaty sex? You know that kind that makes you want to rip each other's clothes off. The kind where he pushes you against the desk, throwing all the paperwork across the room in his urgency to get your clothes off,” Trisha says, and I take a breath. I’ve never had that. Wouldn't even know how that would feel, other than my traitorous body is becoming hot all over, just thinking about it.
My limited sexual encounters have all been slightly awkward. A tangle of limbs in the wrong places, my jiggly body seemingly too much for some men who just don’t know what to do with me. Other than missionary, where they don’t even look at me, and usually, the ending isn’t satisfactory for me at all.
A man has never made me come. I bet Connor Whiteman could. I swallow, looking at my desk, the images filtering through my mind rapidly, making my cheeks burn hotter. I take a sip of tea and shake my head. Because there’s no way that will be happening. I’m a realist. Those kinds of movie star things never happen to a girl like me.
“Not happening. Anyway, how’s Tom?” I ask her, not wanting to talk about my boss any longer. Especially not at his distillery, where anyone could hear me.
“Who?”
I huff a laugh and roll my eyes, because it's a new week, and of course, Trisha has a new man already.
“You know Tom? The guy you were in love with and were going to name your firstborn after me with?” I quiz her, smiling. She’s crazy, but I love her.
“Oh yeah, no, he turned out to be a bit of a dud. But I met Jeff, and he is amazing!” she gushes, my workplace romance now forgotten as she tells me all about her new love interest.
After hearing all about Jeff, a guy she met when he came in to order pizza the other night and left her a huge tip, I end the call with Trisha and get my head back into my workload.
I have a few interviews lined up later in the week and a few more applications to look over. After working with Connor the other night, I’m close to making some offers with flexible staff members who are looking for full-time hours and are happy to have those hours not only in the spa but all around other functions in the distillery.
I’m expecting another delivery of goods today, some yoga mats and equipment, so I’ll be finding a spot for all that later. Victoria’s currently in the space, measuring the shelving for the retail space and cupboards for the treatment rooms, cross-checking the colors for the linen and towels I chose before we place that order next. It’s slowly falling into place, and while I’m not sure if we’re moving fast on this or not, compared to how spas usually open, it feels like things are coming together quickly and without issue.
“Daisy?” a voice from my door says, and I look up and smile at the receptionist, Stephanie.
“There’s a gentleman here to see you. Says his name is Soren?” she asks, frowning, and I sit up, slightly shocked he’s here personally.
“Oh, sure, I’ll be right out.” I was expecting Soren to ship the crystals I needed, not come all the way to Whispers to hand-deliver them.
I walk out and spot him standing in reception with a few boxes at his feet. The receptionist is keeping a close eye on him, clearly wary of him since he’s new and not someone she’s familiar with. He does look totally out of place, yet doesn’t seem to care one bit. Skinny, too tanned to the point his skin is almost rubbery. Wispy long blond hair that’s thinning at the top. He practices what he preaches, which is daily yoga, a strict vegetarian diet, and a very hippie lifestyle. Which is completely at odds with the building he’s standing in.
“Soren,” I say, smiling in greeting, and he turns to me with a grin.
“Ahhh, good to see you, my dear,” he says in that borderline condescending tone he has. One which doesn’t seem to worry Mom at all, but it gives me the creeps.
“What are you doing here? I thought you would courier these ones, just like the last ones?” I ask him, looking at the boxes at his feet. This is my second crystal delivery from him already.
“I was in the area,” he says a little cryptically.
“You have other clients out this way?” I ask, confused. I don’t know him well. His relationship with my mother goes back decades, from her commune days, I think. But I know Dad doesn’t like him much, even though they have only met a few times.
“I visit the commune not far from here for deep meditation work. Your mother’s old commune, actually. Since I was coming this way, I thought I would drop them off.”
I nod, his words making sense. I have no idea about communes or how they work. But I do know the more traditional ones are usually out of cities and in places that are hard to find, unless you’re looking for them. But one thing about what he said bothers me.
“Mom’s commune? Where’s that?” I’m surprised, intrigued, and a little miffed that Mom didn’t tell me herself. She knew where I was coming and made no mention of knowing this area at all.
“Ohhh, it's buried deep. They’re isolated and don’t take kindly to strangers. But I call past once or twice a year to deliver goods they require and sit in silence for a week.”
I feel like he isn’t telling me something, but I leave it. That's Mom’s history, not mine, and if she wanted me to know anything about it, then she would tell me. She never really talks about that time at all, actually.
“Can I offer you a tea? Take you on a tour of the new spa?” I offer, because it’s a long way to come, and I’m sure he would like to walk around.
“I wouldn’t say no to one of your energizing teas,” he says, hopeful, and I smile, having received a big batch from Mom only a few days ago.
I help him move the boxes into my office, putting them with the others, and get busy with my teapot, my own little tea station already set up in my office, not dissimilar to the whiskey bars in all the others.
“How long was your drive?” I ask, making small talk. This is the most I’ve spoken to him ever, and it feels a little weird, if I’m honest.
“A few hours. Here, I got you this. A gift from your mother.”
I turn, passing him the tea, and see a large rose quartz now sitting on my desk.
“Oh, wow. That’s beautiful,” I say, in awe. It’s raw, which I love. Large, the pink color really strong and vibrant. I reach out to touch it immediately.
“It is. She knew the minute she saw it that she wanted you to have it.”
I melt at the generosity of my mother. It must’ve cost a fortune. I need to lift it with both hands, it’s that heavy.
“She wanted you to be surrounded by love, even though you’re away from her and your father,” he says, and I run my hand over the rough stone. I’m drawn to it, so I know that it’s a stone I’m very much in alignment with already.
“She’s too kind.” I need to call her to thank her for it all.
“Daisy, I—” Connor starts as he walks into my office with his head down, looking at some paperwork before he stops short. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with someone.”
“Ohhh, the energy is strong with this one,” Soren says under his breath, just loud enough for me to catch.
“Connor, this is Soren. He’s the supplier for all our crystals, some herbs, and a few other things that we use at Sunshine and now at the distillery.” I introduce the two men, who couldn’t be more opposite.
“Connor Whiteman,” Connor says formally, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. Dressed impeccably in his suit, full business mode activated, it feels like he takes up all the oxygen in the room, his large physique almost domineering in a way.
Soren looks at him, then his hand, before shaking it somewhat lukewarmly. “Soren.” I notice he doesn’t offer a last name, and to be honest, I don’t know what it is either.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Clearly, you’re in the middle of something,” he says to me quickly before looking back at Soren. The two of them are definitely on edge, the temperature in the room changing as Connor looks at Soren suspiciously. I assume it’s because Soren is a man in his distillery whom he’s never met before.
“I was just offering Soren a tea before he heads on his way,” I tell Connor, who then looks at me, the tea on my desk, and then the large rose quartz.
“We can’t go sitting around and drinking tea all day. We have a spa to open,” Connor grits out.
“I’m merely being hospitable to our suppliers.” I try to remain calm and friendly as Soren watches us both closely.
“Who needs a calming tea at this time of the day?” Connor pushes, and I have no idea why he’s being so rude at the moment.
“You, apparently. Shall I make you a cup?” I ask with full sarcasm, because I’m not making him a damn thing, although the way he looks at me, like he’s ready to throw me over his shoulder and walk me out of here, has my body tingling.
“I’m not in the mood for tea parties,” he grumbles before he turns and walks out just as quickly as he came in. My mouth is agape as I watch him leave. It seems he’s back to his asshole ways.
“Sorry, Soren, he’s just really busy and stressed. He has a lot on his plate.”
“Interesting…” he says in his assessing tone before turning and looking at me.
“What is?” I ask, grabbing my own tea and taking a seat as Soren does the same.
“His aura, it was a muddy green all over,” Soren says, and I almost burn my tongue as I try to swallow quickly. I don’t respond. I can’t. Muddy green indicates jealousy and insecurities. And I have no idea why Connor would have those feelings. He’s a billionaire, owns this entire operation, and from what I’ve seen, most of the town too. There’s no way a man like him would be jealous or insecure about anything.
“I'm sure it wasn’t,” I tell him, and he frowns.
“Auras don’t lie, Daisy.”
“What color am I?” I ask, knowing he’s seeing it, feeling a little unsettled and vulnerable as he makes his assessment.
“A good mix. Mainly red. Clearly, you are passionate about something here,” he murmurs, before sipping his tea and looking at me pointedly. I divert my eyes and look back at the beautiful rose quartz before I quietly chant to myself.
I am not falling for Connor Whiteman.
I am not falling for Connor Whiteman.
I am not falling for Connor Whiteman.