Chapter 4
four
. . .
Maddox
Our team was finding their rhythm here in Cottonwood Cove. My new assistant had two weeks under her belt and had started her third week with the same gusto. She’d surprised me with her work ethic several times already, although this was still a trial period.
I’d learned that many people come out of the gate strong with a new job, and then they’d fizzle out.
Georgia Reynolds had handled everything I’d thrown at her with ease thus far, which was saying a lot because I’d been known to go through assistants faster than most people went through a cup of coffee.
And I’d hit her with everything I had in my arsenal.
Sending her on bullshit errands and giving her tasks I didn’t think she’d finish; yet every single time, she’d come back with a smile on her face.
I expected a lot from the people who worked for me, and I rewarded them well for it.
I hadn’t rewarded her yet because it was too soon.
The jury was still out on whether she’d make it here.
If there was a popularity contest at Lancaster Press, Georgia would be the queen of the office.
Everyone loved her already, and she’d only been here for a few weeks.
She knew how to turn on the charm, and I admired people who knew their strengths and capitalized on them.
Where most people made an effort to be friendly, there was a genuineness with her that was rare to find in people.
Her name was at the top of the whiteboard for the ongoing ping-pong game that they all played every day on their lunch break, as she’d wasted no time taking part.
She only took twenty minutes a day for lunch, which I noted, because I was prepared to call her out if she spent an hour in the break room with the staff playing games.
She’d go down, play one game, apparently dominate, and then eat her lunch at her desk while she worked.
She’d also brought donuts in the last two Fridays to celebrate her first week on the job, and this past week for Virginia’s birthday, and that had won her big points.
I believed in doing something special for employees that had been with you for five, ten, and even twenty years.
But a party to celebrate a week on the job? Who the fuck did that?
Like most new employees, I was prepared for her to go at a slower pace at the start of week two and then again at the start of week three. It was common, and I had no intentions of easing up on her. But she’d upped her game last week and hadn’t lost an ounce of steam.
I’d just arrived at the office, and I parked next to that goddamn white contraption that she drove to work, which pissed me off. It was cold as hell out, and she shouldn’t be driving something that wasn’t safe. And why the fuck did I care?
I’d come earlier today, an attempt to be first, but she’d beat me again. I didn’t need to be here this early, but the fact that she had arrived before me every day since she’d started had me getting out of bed a little earlier than usual.
And how long does it take to fix a fucking car?
Was her family okay with her driving this death trap on wheels to work every day?
Why did it annoy me so much?
Maybe I was just in a mood because I’d woken up with a raging boner after a dream about my assistant straddling me at my desk while wearing no panties.
It wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt of her either. And that shit pissed me off.
I wasn’t that guy.
I didn’t fantasize about women I worked with.
When it came to women, I was always in control.
So, I had a bad case of blue balls, and it only added to my already irritable disposition.
I moseyed into the office, and I was immediately hit with seventies music, as I had been every day since she’d started.
From Karen Carpenter’s “Close to You” to the Knack’s “My Sharona”, the girl blared her music until I’d arrive every morning, and then she’d hustle and turn it off with no argument from me.
I wasn’t a fan of the seventies, so I’d just use my Shazam app that could tell me the name of a song right on my phone.
That way, when I complained about it to her, I would act like I knew what I was complaining about.
I did not need to Shazam today’s song, as even I was able to recognize Abba’s “Dancing Queen”.
I made my way up the stairs and found her in my office with her back to me as she stood at the filing cabinet, singing at the top of her lungs along with the music that was playing from her phone.
She sang like she was on an episode of The Voice and shimmied her hot little body down to the floor like it was her life’s passion. It was sort of how she did everything from what I’d assessed over these last few weeks.
Everything with her was upbeat. Like a ray of sunshine all the fucking time—aside from the attitude that she gave me.
However, she wasn’t that way with anyone else at work from what I’d observed.
She was too busy spreading pixie dust everywhere she went, like a modern-day fucking Tinker Bell.
The problem was, I didn’t care for pixie dust. Nor did I care for loud music booming through my office at seven thirty in the fucking morning.
Or the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off her perfectly round, peach-shaped, tight little ass.
I moved toward my desk and hit her phone with my fist to pause the music, and she jumped and turned before tripping over her own foot and flying across my desk.
Like I said… she was a fucking fairy.
But this Tinker Bell had just exposed her white lace thong, which did nothing to cover her gorgeous ass when her skirt flew up and she slid across my desk.
Her blonde hair fell all around her shoulders, and she blinked up at me, quickly adjusting her skirt and moving to her feet.
“Oh, hey. You scared me.”
“Did I? How is that possible?” I hissed. Because for whatever reason, seeing her bare ass first thing in the morning had my dick going hard, again, and that shit pissed me off.
A. She worked for me.
B. I was always in control of how I reacted to others.
“How is what possible?” she asked, acting all offended as she reached for her phone.
“How did I scare you when you knew I was arriving? And didn’t I ask you to stop with the annoying music?”
“I see we’re in another fabulous mood,” she said, raising a brow.
She had a gift for insulting me with kindness, so I couldn’t write her up because what she’d said was actually nice, even though we both knew she didn’t mean it.
“For your information, I set my alarm on my phone for 7:40 a.m., which is when you’ve arrived every day since I started here.
You’re early today. I had planned to stop spreading joy at 7:40.
On. The. Dot. But now, I’ll bring in the dark cloud at 7:30 a.m. instead.
And for the record, there is nothing annoying about Abba.
The Mama Mia fandom would not take too kindly to you insulting that song. ”
“I thought we were done being a smart-ass?” I moved around my desk, trying to adjust my raging boner without her noticing. It wasn’t an easy task housing the beast when he was worked up.
“I am done being a smart-ass, Bossman. I was just telling you that I had a plan, and you sort of messed it up. Why are you here early today?”
“Once again, I’m the boss, and you’re the employee. That is not a question you need to be asking.” I sat in my chair and raised a brow. “Go flutter back to your desk, Tinker Bell. I’ve got work to do.”
“I love Tinker Bell. She’s my favorite fairy. Thank you.” She slammed the drawer of the file cabinet and plastered a fake smile on her face.
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment.” I motioned with my head for her to leave. The girl was giving me a migraine, and I’d only been here for five minutes.
I did not appreciate starting the day with some fucked-up Mama Mia music.
A raging boner.
And a bad headache.
The phone rang, and I could hear her being all chipper to whoever was on the other line.
She ended the call, and then my desk phone rang.
Seeing as we were the only two people in the office, I squeezed my eyes closed for a minute, pinched the bridge of my nose with my finger and thumb, and let out a long breath before picking up the phone.
“You’re sitting five feet from me; you don’t need to use the phone. You could have just spoken from your desk.”
“That wouldn’t be very professional, would it?”
“What do you need?”
“Hilda called. She’s sick,” she chirped.
“Who the fuck is Hilda?”
“This is disappointing, Bossman. She’s your housekeeper, and she said she works five days a week for you. She called you Maddy, so I assumed you were close.”
I groaned. The woman had never called me Maddy, and I knew my assistant was fucking with me. “I call her Mrs. Miller, and she calls me Mr. Lancaster. What’s wrong with her?”
“She feels fine, but she has laryngitis, so she won’t be coming to work today.”
“I don’t need her to sing. She’s there to clean. If she feels fine, why can’t she go to work?” I hissed, just as she started to speak, and I cut her off. “Never mind. My head is pounding. I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
“Please?”
“Please, what?” I asked.
“Can I please get a cup of coffee?” she said.
“Are you asking me to get you a cup of coffee?”
“I’m just reminding you that the word please goes a long way. Just a good thing to keep in mind. I’ll be in with your coffee shortly, Boss.” She hung up before I could respond.
What the fuck kind of mind game was this?
I didn’t look up at her when she set the mug on the desk with a napkin and a banana, which was thoughtful, seeing as I hadn’t asked for one, but I usually grabbed one when I first got here.
I glanced up just as she left my office. Her pencil skirt hugged her curves in all the right places, and I cursed myself for looking. Tan legs, fuck-me heels, and a body that could drop a man to his knees.