10
If the throbbing in Wade’s left hand had been an instrument, it would have mimicked a tuba. Sitting in the office, at a desk by the printer, he could hardly hold the paper steady while he signed checks. His brother’s revelation last night about having a personal note system which indicated an incident similar to Derek’s attack coiled Wade’s nerves tighter than a rattler ready to strike. A little forewarning about a vicious animal would have been nice. It could have avoided another insurance claim.
Emma chatted on the phone with a customer as if they were lifelong buds. The woman could talk to drying paint and get a chuckle. She and Fran were like office twins always chatting with people as if they were long lost relatives. Whatever customer relations class they had taken, he must have skipped.
Wade flexed his hand. He had to get back to being one hundred percent and able to drive and perform service calls. Burdening his father with a heavier workload gnawed at his frayed nerves. His dad had slimmed down his service call schedule until Wade’s accident had catapulted the elder Donoven back into the field. Why was God making Wade wait for a full recovery? His family needed him to be healthy now.
“I noticed your hand was a bit stiff at dinner last night.” Emma rolled closer in her office chair. “How about some help?”
She’d make a great spy since her senses remained consistently on high alert, or she was plain nosy. At least she cared. Although, he didn’t think massage therapy was listed on the day’s schedule.
“Do you have a doctor’s release in your pocket? That would really help.” A release to drive had been his goal for weeks.
“Wish I did along with a criminal GPS tracker.” She held out her arm clothed in an official Donoven and Sons navy oxford. His mom insisted Emma wear one of hers since Emma hadn’t packed for a long stay.
Emma tilted her head with emphasis. “You’re doing more of a light tissue massage than applying actual pressure.”
Her arm hung in the air as she beckoned him to give her his claw. Should he cave? His hand movements had improved after her pizza night acupressure. But was this appropriate? She was a female employee. “What if someone sees you touching the boss?”
She slouched dramatically. “The mail guy’s come and gone, and Mike is going straight home after he finishes his call. No one is going to be scandalized if I touch your palm.”
This girl was one determined Yankee. Could he refuse the blessing of being pain-free? She was on company time and healing the boss would help the company. He straightened his fingers and searched for the clock. One hour until close. Could he weather another cramping episode?
“What does the Bible say about seeing someone in need and not offering help?” She shifted her chair a few inches closer.
First, prying and now a mini sermon? He pushed away from the desk. He’d lost this battle. Since he was pinned in the back of the office by a zealous new hire, there was no way he could escape her acupressure session. And if he was honest, he wanted to be able to control his hand. He extended his arm. One plus, she did smell better than the last guy who performed therapy on his hand. The sooner healing arrived, the better. Maybe she’d leave him alone and go back to work.
“So now you’re not only the office lady but the Good Samaritan?”
“Exactly.” Her voice sounded like she was on a sugar high. “Helping a friend who happens to be my boss.”
At least she had the boss part right. Did he consider her a friend? She had helped his family out of a jam and had been supportive during Derek’s incident. A competent acquaintance was more like it. This was business after all.
She supported his hand and pushed her middle finger into the same spot she used previously. “This finger is best used with a ninety-degree angle.”
Whatever she was doing left his poor attempts at massage in the dust. He stared at her dark nail polish while his bones turned to marshmallow in the chair. He forced himself to remember that she was the temporary office lady. For the pain relief following her sessions, she deserved a bonus. He hated to admit it, but Derek was right. Emma embodied nice.
“When you press that spot, it’s like all the stress leaves my body. Cole could walk in and repeat his stupid remarks about the dog bite, and I wouldn’t even care. If he hadn’t taken off with his last girlfriend, he could have warned us about the animal.” Wade blinked. He could fall asleep any moment. “And if Cole had stayed around, he’d have been on the service call when I had the accident. I wouldn’t be waiting on a doctor’s release.” He babbled as she did her nerve hypnotism. Good thing his recovery was on the horizon because he could get accustomed to having her touch his hand.
Emma shifted her finger to his wrist. Her mouth pulled to the side. “You’re not blaming Cole for your accident, are you? He may have driven faster or slower or taken a different route that night. Seems to me, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Was she sticking up for Cole? His slumbering heart kicked into high gear while his arm relaxed, warming like a sauna. Miss Nice had stabbed at a sore spot when it came to his brother.
“I mean, if you believe in God’s providence, you were in the intersection at the correct time.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Make the accident my fault or blame it on God.” His employee better be careful. She was flunking her probationary period. He attempted to tug his hand free. “Let go of my arm.”
She pressed harder. “I’m not done.”
Deep breathing, he broadened his chest. “I think you are.” He’d rip his arm free from her nimble-fingered grasp if he didn’t think that he may harm her and cause another workman’s comp claim.
“Your point needs more pressure and time.” Her determined gaze narrowed. “I’d like to help you. I also know about going through hard times. My whole life imploded in twenty-four hours. I lost my job, no, my career.” Her tone became definite, filled with a defiance he hadn’t heard in the chaos of Derek’s injury. “My last paycheck never arrived, and I lost the inheritance money my grandmother left me. I’d say I had a bit of a crash, too.”
Is this why Cole and Sam brought Emma to Nashville? For a job and a paycheck? Did his dad know her entire sob story? Her experiences made the aftermath of an auto accident seem tame.
The tension eased on his wrist, but his hand remained cradled in Emma’s.
“All I know is that I’d never want to hurt my brother. If I had a brother. It’s not a stroll in the park being an only child.”
“I’ve never hurt Cole.” He formed a fist and withdrew his hand. He wasn’t going to share his life story with a woman he barely knew. Words didn’t flow freely from his mouth for good reason. This wasn’t a counseling session.
She scooted her chair toward the main computer. “ Never is a strong word. If you blame him for any part of your injuries, then you’ve already hurt the relationship.” She waggled a finger at him. “Don’t squeeze that hand after we got the blood flowing.”
Her reprimand held one truth. She certainly got his blood cruising through his veins. How dare she act like she knew his history. She might as well have decked him because his jaw ached, and a metallic taste soured his mouth.
“We’re done here.” He jumped to his feet and grabbed his cane. He’d stomp out of the office even if it meant going back into formal physical therapy.
Her eyes glistened as she studied him. Either she was going to cry or preach another sermonette.
Man, Cole! What did his lovesick brother get him involved with this time? He hurried into the hallway wondering if he could field a workman’s comp claim for making an employee cry.
~*~
Emma willed her tears to stay hidden. Her behemoth of a boss hobbled through the doorway to his luxury office. His tight-lipped expression advertised that she’d said too much. She remained at Fran’s computer replaying her advice in her head. Her parents had said to speak the truth in love. Even Mr. Ted had been a proponent of speaking what God laid on your mind if it would benefit a friend. She’d challenged Wade on his latent anger, and now her backside might be booted to the curb.
Okay God, I need wisdom from the Holy Spirit here. Do I beg to keep my job or let the truth sink into my boss’s thick skull?
The office phone rang.
God Almighty, You are too good. You sure know how to cut the tension.
She reached for the phone. “Donoven and Sons Electric. Emma speaking.” For an hour longer.
The caller hung up.
Thank You, Lord. She didn’t need a wavering voice and the sniffles dealing with a customer.
The empty doorway greeted her like a porchlight. How would she recap her day when they arrived at Mike and Linda’s home for dinner? “Hey, I’m getting the hang of the office, but I insulted Wade. Told him not to blame his brother for his accident. Whoopsie. Too much truth telling with my boss.” Yeah, right. She stared at tomorrow’s schedule on the screen. Starting over somewhere else would be a big bummer.
Should she apologize? Some people were uptight and closed off as a personality. Wade could have misspoken about Cole taking the service call. She hadn’t prayed before speaking her mind either. Being a straight shooter had its benefits until you met a ricochet bullet.
Spying Fran’s mason jar pen holder, she emptied the pens onto the desk. She rummaged in her backpack for a quarter and dropped it into the glass container. The plink sounded freeing. Apologizing may not smooth a ruffled ego, but it would save future troubles. If Sam and Cole married, Emma couldn’t imagine the maid of honor and the best man shooting eye darts at each other. Although, it could make for interesting wedding party photographs.
Carrying her makeshift sorry jar, she strolled like an attendant carrying a cup to the king. She knocked on the threshold to Wade’s office and entered.
Wade sat at a desk with his back to the door. He stared out the window into the parking lot. So much for working.
She placed the jar on his desk. “Truce. I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us. I’m sorry, so sorry, if I accused you. I’m not an expert on your family or your car crash.”
He swiveled his chair and acknowledged her presence.
Stepping toward the hall, she laced her fingers and swallowed through a desert. Why did she have to open her mouth earlier?
“Sam is my oldest and dearest friend. She and Cole were trying to help me out. You don’t have to keep me on staff if it’s awkward.” Forcing a smile didn’t work when her mouth rebelled and fought the curve.
“I’m not firing you, Emma.” He said those four words as if he’d just come from pulling a twenty-four-hour shift. He eyed the jar and his lips flatlined. “You were a big help yesterday when Derek got hurt. And today, you handled the phones like a pro. You’ve got a job here until Fran returns. We’ve suffered enough changes.”
“I can relate.” She grasped her silver necklace and shifted her tortoise charm side to side. “But then you know that since I blurted out my changes earlier.”
Wade opened the desk drawer and ruffled some papers. He pulled out a quarter and dropped it in her sorry jar. The coin made a muted thud as it hit her contribution.
The sound may not have been as stark as her metal clanging against the glass, but it rallied her spirit that coming to Tennessee wasn’t a mistake. She and Wade could work as a team, and she could be a blessing to him and his family while her woes back home settled down.
She leaned against the door frame relieved that her job and dignity were intact. “Sam will be the first to tell you that sometimes my filter gets clogged.”
A glimmer of life spread across Wade’s face like a tiny flame on a newly lit tealight. “Then I think we might need to keep this around. I’m sorry is a popular phrase at Donoven and Sons.” He rotated the mason jar and grinned as if the jar was an autographed football jersey.
Broad shoulders. Bluer than blue eyes. A determined smile. She hightailed it to the main computer. If she didn’t get the fleeting vision of her attractive boss vanquished from her mind, she’d have to spring for another quarter.