Chapter 7
7
Late. She was late.
She was very, very late.
In fairness, it hadn’t been her fault. Darn Colin had forgotten to wake her this morning.
And in fairness to Colin, he couldn’t speak. Because, you know, he was a stuffed toy.
But now, she was horribly late, and she was going to be in so much trouble.
“SOS. SOS,” a creepy, Devil-like voice came out of her handbag. The woman sitting next to her on the bus gave her a strange look.
Faith smiled wanly and drew her phone out.
SOS: Where are you, Blossom?
Fudge.
Faith: I’m ten minutes away, sir.
She was going to have to hoof it to get there in ten minutes. The bus came to a stop and she raced down, but her foot hit something, and she went flying, landing on her hands and knees.
“Are you okay?”
Faith glanced up, trying to blink back her tears as an older woman held out a hand to her. She took it, letting the woman help her up.
“Yes, thank you.”
“You shouldn’t be in such a rush.”
Nodding, Faith carried on at a half-limp. She made it up the elevator and to her desk before she realized she’d forgotten to stop and get Reuben a latte.
Don’t cry.
She didn’t look at her hands or pull up her skirt to study her knees.
Reuben’s door was partially open so she didn’t bother to knock. “Sir, I’m here. But I have to go get your coffee.”
“Come here, Blossom.”
Yikes.
Taking a fortifying breath, she stepped into the room, her gaze down. If she looked at him, she thought she might burst into tears. Which wasn’t a professional look.
“Ms. Blossom, look at me.”
“I’d really rather not,” she whispered.
To her surprise a pair of black shoes appeared in front of her feet. And a finger was placed under her chin, tilting her head back. She blinked as she stared up into his face.
“What happened?”
Sniffle.
Stop it.
“Little Blossom,” he crooned.
She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t she resist him when he spoke to her like that?
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
“I slept in,” she blurted out. “Fudge. Why did I tell you that?”
“You should always tell me the truth,” he told her. “Then what happened?”
“I was rushing here and I tripped.”
Sniffle.
“You tripped?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
A hand grasped one of hers, turning it over and she couldn’t help but look down.
Fudge.
She’d managed to scrape her palm. As soon as she saw the wound, her hand began to sting. He grabbed her other hand, again holding her so gently and turned it.
“Ouchie.”
“Little Blossom, you are not fine.”
“I, um . . . they didn’t start to hurt until I saw them.”
He simply hummed as he took hold of her wrist and led her out of the room, then down to the kitchen.
Faith knew she should get herself together. Insist that she could take care of herself.
But it felt so nice to have someone else take charge. To look after her. Suddenly, he lifted her up onto the counter.
“Um,” she said hesitantly.
Then he grasped the bottom of her skirt, lifting it up over her knees.
She gasped.
“Easy, Ms. Blossom. I just want to check your knees. Which are as scraped up as your palms.”
His voice was scolding and it made her squirm. She didn’t like disappointing him. She hated disappointing anyone.
But, for some reason, she especially hated disappointing him.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll stay late to make up for missed time.”
“That’s not what I’m upset about,” he told her as he reached under the sink for a first aid kit.
“You’re upset because you’re having to take time out of your busy day to clean me up?” she asked as he cleaned her scrapes.
“No. Try again.” He used antiseptic, blowing on the wounds as she hissed.
“Um. Is it that I hurt myself?”
“It’s that you hurt yourself and then tried to act like you hadn’t,” he told her sternly as he placed bandages on her knees, then smaller ones on her hands. “I don’t like being lied to. I especially don’t like when you try to hide that you’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s really just a few scrapes.”
“Faith.”
Yikes. That tone of voice combined with him using her first name told her that he meant business.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry.”
Nodding, he lifted her back down. That did not feel good. It did not. “I want you to go home.”
“What? No, I’m sorry. Really. I won’t lie again.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Really, please don’t f-fire me.” Panic made her stutter.
“Hey, you’re not fired.”
“Oh. Then why did you tell me to go home?”
“Because you’re hurt. I want you to go home and rest.”
This was . . . crazy. She’d had worse scrapes working on her parents’ farm.
“I’m really okay. I can work.”
“You shouldn’t argue with your boss, you know.”
She bit her lip.
“But at least if you’re here then I can keep a closer eye on you. You can stay and work. But you won’t push yourself too hard.”
Faith breathed out a sigh of relief as she followed him back to her desk.
He pointed at her chair. “Sit.”
She sat.
Then he picked up her water bottle. “Drink.”
She drank.
Sometimes, she felt like a trained seal. But then she realized that he’d just gently cleaned up all her scrapes.
He’d also filled her water bottle with icy cold water before she got here.
Reuben Jones was a contradiction who kept her on her toes.
And she wanted more.
The sound of goats bleating made her jump.
Faith quickly grabbed her phone out of a drawer in her desk, hastily checking the message.
Reuben was in a meeting, but you never knew when he’d pop his head out and catch her doing something he might consider slacking.
In some ways, parts of this job were getting more manageable. In other ways . . . yeah, she was still a complete failure. Yesterday, she’d been shredding documents and, in the process, she’d managed to destroy several things he’d needed. She’d stayed back late to replace them and now she was feeling tired and blurry today.
Still, she’d made it this far and she was messing up less.
She thought.
Asta: Congrats on lasting three weeks working for the Devil!
Dear Lord.
Faith: You can’t call a client the Devil.
Asta: You can when he actually is the Devil. We need to catch up for a drink sometime so you can give me the deets.
Faith didn’t feel right gossiping about Reuben, but at the same time, she longed to make a friend. She was so lonely living in that house with Eric and Cammie.
Faith: That would be fun.
Faith put her phone away as the office phone rang. Huh. That hardly ever rang.
“Hello, you’ve reached Jones Law. This is Faith speaking.”
There was silence on the other end. Well, other than some deep breathing.
“Hello? Oh no, is this one of those crank calls? I should tell you that I know how to dog whistle and it’s loud. It will hurt your ears.”
“I . . . I’m looking for Reuben.”
The voice was soft and feminine. She almost sounded scared.
“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”
“Oh . . . he doesn’t usually turn his phone off for meetings.”
How did this woman know that? Who was she?
“Can I ask who is calling?” She tried to keep the jealousy from her voice.
“This is Juliet. Can you tell him I called?”
Juliet. His sister?
“Wait! He told me that if you ever called, I’m to send your call straight through.” He was very adamant about that.
There were four people she was always to put through. Alejandro De Leon, his wife, Cat, his sister, Juliet, and his friend, Gwen.
“I don’t want to be a bother. He can call me back.”
“Are you sure? Are you okay? Do you need something? I mean, not that I can help . . . well, I could try. But likely not. I’m not very good at any of this stuff.”
There was silence.
Great. Way to embarrass yourself, Faith.
“Are you all right, Faith?” Juliet asked.
“I really don’t think I am.”
There was silence on the other end, so she kept talking.
“Truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. Why did I think I could be a personal assistant? I’ve got no experience. The only thing I have going for me is that I’m stubborn and desperate. I even made him my famous banana bread and he spat it out! Can you believe that? I can’t operate Estelle. She just spits at me. I fed his pastrami to a lovely dog called Petey, and he had to buy me a water bottle because he’s worried I’m going to pass out on him.”
She took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly.
Wow. Way to spill everything, Faith.
This was his sister and now she’d probably tell Reuben what a basket case Faith was.
Like he doesn’t know.
To her shock, the other woman started to giggle.
“Are you . . . are you laughing at me?”
“S-sorry.”
Huh. She didn’t sound all that sorry.
“It’s just that you sound exactly like what he needs.”
She did? How could she be? She didn’t see it.
“I think I’m the opposite of what he needs. I think I’m making everything worse in his life.”
“Not possible. What was in the banana bread?”
Strange question, but Faith went through the ingredients.
“Walnuts,” Juliet told him. “He hates them. Oh, but he loves brownies.”
“Really?” she breathed out, like Juliet had just given her the secret to the universe.
“Uh-huh.” Someone called Juliet’s name in the background. “Gotta go. Tell him I’ll call later.”
“Will do. Thanks, Juliet.”
“Good luck, Faith. Don’t give up on him.”
That was a bit strange, but she shrugged it off. She guessed Juliet just wanted him to have an assistant who lasted more than five minutes.
Twenty minutes later, the people Reuben had been in a meeting with had left, and she walked in.
“Can you go grab us both coffee, Blossom?” he asked, slipping the credit card over.
“Sure.” She slipped the card into her pocket. “Your sister called. She said she’d call back later.”
Reuben raised his head from the computer screen and looked over at her. “Excuse me?”
Danger.
Red alert.
Fudge knuckles.
“I, um, Juliet called.”
“What was rule number one?” he whispered.
Oh. Right. He’d given her some rules when she started. Things like she wasn’t to talk about anything she saw here or the people she met. She’d signed an NDA too.
Also, no lying. No being late. No coming to work sick.
And always put Juliet through if she called. No matter what.
Okay. She’d really fucked-up.
Really, really fucked-up if the look on his face was anything to go by. Of all those times he’d come close to firing her . . . well, this time he might actually do it.
He drew his phone out of a drawer, checking it, then swearing quietly.
“I’m sorry, she?—”
“Leave,” he interrupted her.
“But—”
“You’re fired.”
It wasn’t unexpected, but it still hit her like a blow. She stumbled back, then turned around and rushed out.
Yeah. She’d known things were too good to last. Too good for someone like her.
A failure and an embarrassment.
“Hey, big brother,” Juliet greeted him cheerfully.
Reuben let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like her to call the office number. Not unless something was wrong.
“Are you all right, Mini?” he demanded. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry, did I worry you by calling the office?” she asked. “It’s just not like you to not answer your phone. I got concerned.”
He breathed out a sigh. “I had an important meeting. But I’m sorry, Mini. I won’t turn it off again. In any case, my assistant should have put you through immediately.”
What had Faith been thinking? That was the most important rule.
“Oh, she wanted to put me through, but I told her not to. I just wanted to know you were all right.”
“You told her not to?” He groaned. “Mini.”
“Oh no, what did you do? Reuben?” she asked sternly.
“Nothing.”
“Big Bad Wolf?”
“I fired her.” He sighed. Hell. “Why did you tell her not to put you through?”
“Because it wasn’t important. I just . . . I had a bad dream and I needed to talk to you. Reuben, you fired her? This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not. She still should have put you through.”
“And I told her to hang in there. I jinxed her.”
“Juliet Susanne, you did not jinx her. She works for me, so she needs to learn to follow my orders.”
Or he’d spank her ass.
Oh yeah, his hand itched to do that.
“Does she? I thought you fire her,” Juliet said.
“I’ll sort it.” Fucking hell. Why hadn’t he taken a minute to check with Juliet first? But his sister was a hot spot for him.
“You better sort it,” Juliet said. “I liked her.”
That surprised him. It usually took Juliet a long time to warm up to people. Hell, before she’d gotten involved with Brick and Xavier, she’d never called his office and spoken to a stranger.
Although, there was something about Faith that put people at ease.
“Now, enough about my assistant, tell me about this bad dream. And where are your men? Why aren’t they looking after you?”
“Xavier is at the hospital and Brick is at JSI.”
“What? No one is looking after you? Those assholes.” He was going to give them a piece of his mind.
“You do remember I’m an adult, right, Big Bad?”
“Don’t be getting sassy with me. You’re not too big for me to take over my knee.”
“I don’t think Brick and Xavier would be very happy if you did that.”
Like he cared.
“What was the dream?”
“It was about zombies eating your brains. I just wanted to make sure that hadn’t happened and that you’re taking precautions against zombies.”
“Juliet,” he said in a stern voice. “Have you been watching zombie movies again?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“No more zombie movies.”
“Are you being careful?” she asked worriedly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he soothed. All hint of sternness was gone from his voice. “I would never allow that to happen.”
“You promise? I don’t . . . I couldn’t live without you.”
“Hey, you won’t have to. Nothing will happen. I’m right here.”
He heard her take a deep breath and hated how broken it sounded, as if she was holding back her tears.
“I’m going to come visit, Mini. Okay? I’ll get a flight out there tomorrow or the day after.”
“No!”
He blinked in surprise.
“That was actually the other reason I was calling. Xavier, Brick, and I . . . we were wondering if we could come see you.”
Huh. That was unexpected.
“You want to come see me here?” he asked.
“Yes. Is that all right?”
“Of course it’s all right,” he said gruffly. “Just unexpected. You are always welcome to come see me, you know that.”
“I just miss you,” Juliet told him. “And we thought we’d visit you this time. Although, we want to stay at the Boston house. Manhattan is too much for Brick.”
“I can manage that. And I miss you too.”
Faith knew it was wrong to eavesdrop.
She’d just left the building when she realized she still had Reuben’s credit card. The last thing she needed was for him to accuse her of stealing. So, she’d forced herself to come back upstairs to give it to him.
That’s when she’d heard him ask Juliet if she had been watching zombie movies.
And, well, she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Zombie movie watching was serious business. Besides, she didn’t think he’d like her walking in on a call to his precious sister.
“I’ll give you all the big brother hugs you need. Hear me?”
Dear Lord. Was it wrong that she was now melting for this man? She knew it was.
He was grouchy, bossy, and mean.
But he clearly adored his sister. And it made her miss her own brothers.
Was she being an idiot by cutting herself off from them? But how could she face them when she was so darn ashamed of herself?
Corn and camellias. Corn and camellias. Corn and camellias.
This time, her happy words weren’t bringing her any joy.
Sneaking away, she put the card on her desk and headed to the elevator.
“Faith!”
Come on, elevator.
“Faith!” he called out again.
No. Nope. She was not doing this. She was not.
He reached out and grabbed her forearm. His touch was light, but it still jarred her. Mainly because her stupid body wanted more of his touch.
When it shouldn’t.
“Blossom,” he said in a much softer voice as she shied back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” She rubbed her arm. “I just didn’t want you to touch me.”
To her surprise, shock filled his face for a moment. “Did you think I would harm you?”
“No,” she told him. “I just don’t feel like being growled at. I’m leaving. And I didn’t take anything that wasn’t mine. Do you want to check my bag?” She held out her handbag.
“Of course I don’t want to check your bag. I want you to come back to work.”
“No,” she said quietly.
Shoot.
Why did she say that? She wanted this job. Well, it was more like she desperately needed it.
“No?”
“No.” Where the heck was the elevator?
It dinged, the doors opening.
“Blossom,” he said as she stepped in. “Stay.”
“No.”
He moved so the doors couldn’t shut.
“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.
“I’m not letting you go until you agree to work for me again.”
“Why would I do that? You fired me! For doing what your sister wanted.”
“And I was wrong.”
“And you . . . wait, what? You were what?” she asked, gaping at him.
“I was wrong,” he told her. “And I want you to stay. Please.”
“P-please? You said please. You never say please.”
Do not give in. Do not cave.
“Yes. So will you?”
She bit her lip. “Firing me wasn’t very nice.”
Great. Now she sounded like she was five and had just told her friend she was mean for stealing her doll.
“You’re right. It wasn’t.”
“You can be grouchy.”
“I can be,” he agreed.
“And bossy.”
“You’re right.”
This conversation wasn’t getting any better.
“How can I make it up to you?” he asked. “What if I gave you two dollars more an hour?”
Fudge knuckles. She hated that she was so easy to buy. But . . . that would really help her out.
“All right. And I don’t want to ever have to use Estelle again.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand. And against her better judgment, she shook it.
Do not react. Do not.
“Deal.”