Chapter 3 Paloma, Polar Bears/Golden Retrievers & Harebrained Plans （of said bears/puppies） #3
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate hearing that; however, that’s not why I’m here.
” He stopped, and she decided to give him a minute of her time, to listen to what he had to say before sending him along.
Being rude to him would not gain her votes.
And on a tiny island, every single one counted.
Paloma sighed and waved for him to speak.
“The Crow & Cat is in renovation. More like a complete rebuild. It will take closer to a year for it to be restored. While that is happening, Rhiannon Crowhart doesn’t need a full-time assistant.
I’ve been with her for seven years. I was her PA in L.A.
—hey, it rhymes—and moved with her here.
My credentials are impeccable. However, I have a problem—”
“There’s nobody on this island who needs a PA.” Paloma finished his monologue. She certainly saw his predicament. But it still changed very little. “I am not looking for one. I have a hotel manager. And an assistant manager. Two, to be precise.”
He smiled. The kind smile of a person not easily put off.
“You sure do. But you don’t have a PA who would help you with your campaign for mayor. And you want one.”
That got her hackles up, and quickly. She gritted her teeth.
“I want one?”
Another bashful look.
“You’re a formidable woman. Rich, successful, gorgeous. A dream—”
He stopped abruptly, and his jaw dropped, panic setting in his eyes. Paloma laughed once more. Damn him, he was funny.
“Yes, yes, a dream, but not for you. You’re a Pedro Pascal kind of guy.”
He exhaled, and they grinned at each other. She regretted how much she liked him already.
“So, as I was saying, you are all that and more, and too important to be listening to gossip and filtering the chaff from the barley or rice or whatever grain they use for metaphors. Plus, I type really fast. And look great. But above all…” He paused strategically.
She rolled her eyes. He took the hint. “I have a solution to your Moss problem.”
He looked around conspiratorially. She stood her ground and rolled her eyes again.
“John Moss is absolutely nothing special. From what I hear, he really is nothing but a baggy condom—”
Paloma recoiled, then grimaced.
“Thank you for such vivid imagery.”
He had the decency not to smile.
“Accurate imagery—”
Paloma raised a hand, halting him once again.
“I really do not need to know the details of how you’ve come to know that.”
“Victoria said—”
Paloma sighed.
“Of course, Victoria would know what kind of condom this man is.”
He shrugged.
“If it helps, her knowledge is anecdotal. Probably. I mean, it’s Victoria. So who knows?”
They shared a knowing look, then he went on with renewed fervor.
“He is not important. He’s nothing compared to you. Nothing. You? You are…” He looked heavenward. Paloma frowned. He got the hint again. “As special as you are, he’s the one being spoken of as if he’s a shoo-in. And that is mostly because he’s a local.”
“Yes, he is.”
She hated how bitter she sounded.
“I have a solution for your so-called ‘local’ problem.” The voice got gentler.
This conversation could go a thousand different ways.
Since they met five minutes ago, Paloma couldn’t have predicted anything he said, and the words that came out next stumped her yet again.
“You need to stop playing by their rules, Ms. Allende. It’s a rigged game.
You’re smart. You’re talented. You’re the best at so many things.
You are Paloma Allende. Either make your own rules or learn their weaknesses and win.
Now, can I sign the employment contract so that we can go over the details of my job as your PA? ”
She looked him up and down again. “An NDA first. Then you tell me this plan of yours. Afterwards, we will see about that contract.”
He patted his chest.
“Be still, my beating heart. This is just so…hot, for lack of a better word. My own Ice Queen for a boss.”
“I haven’t hired you yet. I don’t even know your name.” Paloma shook her head and slowly made her way back to the pier where her car was parked. Behind her, it only took the giant two annoyingly long steps to catch up with her.
“Lachlan Vesely, PA extraordinaire, at your service. Any service. Just ask Rhiannon.”
“Why would I? Her entire life went up in smoke while you were supposedly running it. What does that tell me?”
“That I’ll at least make yours interesting?”
She gave him a long look and walked away, with him following on her heels like the big, fluffy dog she had imagined him to be earlier.
Later that night, in her suite, Paloma re-read the Caw article that Lachlan had made the centerpiece of his pitch.
Yes, she had hired him. He had signed the NDA. Two separate ones she had her attorney draft ad hoc. One for her campaign. One for her private and professional life. She got word from Rhiannon, who spoke very highly of him. She even called Victoria, who called him her honorary nephew.
Then, when all the proper checks had been performed, Paloma allowed him to explain his idea. And, damn him, it was not a stupid one. She could see how he got to it.
Local boy…
Beloved town celebrity…
Paloma understood the advantages he ascribed to this plan of his.
She knew that what Lachlan was proposing could work, as much as it pained her.
In fact, she hated the very fact that it was something she should even be considering.
But it would totally flip the script on Moss.
Moss, who was currently polling just a point or two behind her.
Basically, polling inside the margin by doing absolutely nothing at all.
As infuriating as it was, American politics kept proving again and again that this was a woman’s reality.
All that asshat had to do was make a few appearances, say a bunch of nonsense sound bites, and smile for the town ladies.
And there he was, meteorically rising in the polls.
She sighed. Lachlan’s plan was so outlandish that even the books she read rarely chose this particular plot device. Yet here Paloma sat, on her comfortable couch, considering it.
“The worst trope in the whole of the romance genre…”
Paloma put her phone down and picked up the well-loved, well-read copy of Pride and Prejudice. No fake romance there. No, just the sensitive and broody hero and the cheerful, intelligent heroine and their dance around each other.
She stared at the page, but the words were running away from her, and her own thoughts were unhelpful in containing the memories she was trying to hide.
“More like hide from.”
This week alone, she’d almost run into Deryn Crowhart twice.
Almost. Once it was Rhiannon who served as the pretext to turn away and talk for half an hour about the ongoing restorations of the former Atelier—or Crow & Cat, as it had been called, with plans to rename it to Crow, Cat, & Possum.
Paloma thought it was a bit too much, but what the hell.
The possum was indeed cute, so why not give her a place on the new shop sign?
The second time, she’d had no one to use as a human shield, and so she ducked into the bookstore and watched as Deryn swaggered—there was no better word for the damnedest way the woman walked—and for some reason had to speak to or wave hello or hug every single person in the street.
“The curse of the Crowharts.” The voice sounded right behind her, and Paloma did her absolute best not to jump.
Why was everyone so sneaky these days?
Her reaction must’ve been visible because Prudence Fowler laid a gentle hand on her forearm. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been speaking to you for a few minutes now, and I was so certain you heard me.”
There was a smile on the woman’s face, a serene, calm one.
One that spoke of a happiness Paloma felt too alien to understand.
Love was too alien for her to understand, she mentally corrected herself.
And yet, here love was, staring at her with kind, gentle eyes filled with peace and quiet joy from gray depths.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m a bit lost in my own thoughts.” She moved subtly, and the fingers on her sleeve fell away immediately. Dazed by love or not, the younger Fowler was perceptive.
“It’s a busy season for you, I imagine. The election is around the corner, and so are the holidays.
I’m hearing a lot about the celebrations scheduled at the Astronomy Resort.
Rhiannon wants to book us a few days of the spa package.
We both thought the name ‘Sparry Nights’ was ingenious.
” The smile bloomed wider, and if Paloma didn’t genuinely like this woman, she’d have found this entire ordeal sickeningly sweet.
As it was, she happened to appreciate the guts it took to go against one’s father.
To stand on principle. And to do so loudly.
Paloma was not privy to all the details of what had occurred in October between the Fowlers and the Crowharts, but she’d seen Prudence’s brave action firsthand.
Paloma had been the first to get on the scene as the Atelier was burning, and Prudence looked like she had just run out of it with the pets in her arms. Yes, very brave.
Prudence’s smile did not waver when she pointed back to the street in front of them, beyond the bookstore’s windows.
“I was speaking of Deryn earlier. The Crowharts are very different, and yet all share the same trait. A curse, you could even call it. They’re ridiculously popular.
And this one?” Pru’s smile turned mischievous.
“This one is just ridiculous all on her own. A celebrity baker. You know, I thought it was some kind of nonsense, as I don’t watch reality TV or cooking competitions, but seeing her walk around town?
Her notoriety and her charm? It’s like a female version of Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall.
Ridiculous is the best word to describe it.
Men and women alike just go completely gaga over her. ”