11. First Day Jitters
FIRST DAY JITTERS
SAWYER
“You doing okay, boss?” Zuri asks with a tilt of her head.
As I click out of the reservation program, having just checked in Dandelion, the Great Dane mix—owned by Salma, who runs the gourmet market around the corner—I look up, meeting her eyes, as I lie. “Yeah. Definitely.”
Her expression is doubtful. “If you say so. You seem a little…off. Different than when I met you,” she says, but then smiles brightly. “But I bet it’s just first-day jitters. Don’t worry. I know everyone in town, and I’ve got your back.”
Well, shit. I hardly deserve the support of my manager. And she’s reading me right. I am a little off, but it’s not first-day jitters. “That’s nice of you to say,” I say evenly, because I don’t want to let on to an employee that I’m stewing over that ridiculously uncomfortable encounter earlier.
Maybe I was a dick to Chloe. But the whole thing freaked me out.
Except…
Nope. No excuses. She didn’t deserve that reaction.
Fact is, I’ve been up in my head since she walked in.
Seeing her was a shock to the system, to say the least. Especially since my father always taught me not to bring personal stuff into work.
That was his mantra when we ran our management consulting firm together back in the city.
Stay within the lines, be responsible, and be the boss, not the friend.
And look what I did. I brought a metric ton of personal stuff into the workspace without even intending to.
I’ve never mixed business with pleasure.
That’s the first rule of management consulting, and I broke it without realizing it.
I drag a hand across my beard, wishing I knew how to fix this mess as I return to the computer.
“Maybe have a slice of coconut bread to cheer you up,” Zuri says, helping herself to one from the box. “This is delish. I bet Chloe brought these in. That’s so her.”
I wince. Yup. It’s clear. I’m the dick.
Don’t even need to call Juliet and ask her opinion. Don’t need to text Rachel and inquire as to what to do. Both of my sisters would replace my shaving cream with mayonnaise—and rightfully so—after what I said this morning to Chloe.
A co-worker.
The pastry gift is just that—a pastry gift for everyone. I took it the wrong way.
But I don’t even know when she’ll be back, or honestly, if she’s coming back.
She’s been gone for twenty-four minutes, but who’s counting?
And in those twenty-four minutes, I’ve answered a call from the San Francisco location, texted back the manager in Evergreen Falls with the password to our reservations system, and checked in four dogs here.
Also, Zuri’s arrived, so we touched base about the day ahead.
Behind me in the small dog play area is JJ, the Jack Russell mix who’s wrestling with Baxter, while Dandelion peacefully lounges in the sun on some cushions in the big dog section that’s right next to the counter.
When Salma dropped him off, she asked me if I wanted a sandwich today from her store. I ordered one for lunch, but now I wonder if that’ll make me look like a bigger dick, since I didn’t get Zuri’s order or Chloe’s.
I’m not sure I deserve a sandwich. I suspect Chloe would say the same thing.
But I won’t be working much out front, just the first few days probably, so maybe I won’t even have to deal with her.
That’ll be for the best. I can keep the necessary professional distance.
Return to the boundaries I always respect in the workplace.
Should be easy enough. I’ll be in the back office a lot, running operations, making sure we’re hitting our targets on baths, nail trims, daycare, and walks.
I’m only up front today since I wanted to say hi to the clients and introduce myself.
I’m formulating what to say to Chloe when the door swings open once again.
Maybe it’s her and I can grab a quick sec in her training room and say I’m sorry, then move the hell on. But the woman who walks in next is familiar in a different way—I ran into her about a year ago when I was in town scoping out space here for eventual expansion.
“Hey, Ripley,” I say.
The blonde smiles approvingly. “Good memory.”
“How’s Banks?” I ask, since I’m friendly with her boyfriend, but before Ripley can answer, the woman who tried to be nice to me this morning strides in, smiling like she wants to win a contest for a local dentist marketing campaign.
Chloe looks to Zuri though. “Thank you so much for setting this space up for me. I just love it. It’s perfect for my business, and I can’t wait to decorate it,” she says.
“I’ll help,” Zuri offers.
“You’re the best,” she says pointedly to Zuri. Not to me. Definitely not to me.
Chloe sweeps into her training room without another word, and I tear my gaze away from her as the guilt creeps in, digging deeper roots inside me.
I focus on Ripley as she hands over some bouquets of lavender—exactly what I ordered from her farm last week to help create a soothing scent for guests when they enter.
“Do you have a couple vases?” she asks.
“I do,” I say, since she told me I’d need some and I am nothing if not prepared. I reach under the counter and grab them.
“Perfect. Just a small amount of water is all you need,” she says, then offers a few more tips. “And I bet you’ll find the lavender works on the doggies too. It has a calming effect on animals and people.”
A loud scoff comes from the training room.
Zuri arches a curious brow.
Ripley fights off a smile.
Shit. Does Ripley know about…us?
I sure as hell hope not.
Dandelion trots past me, stopping to rub her big head against my leg. People really don’t deserve dogs. I pet her head. “I’ll take care of these right away,” I say to Ripley, nodding to the flowers.
“And thank you again for the order. It means a lot to me that you remembered our conversation,” she says.
When I met her last year, I promised I’d order lavender if the deal came through, and I aim to be a man of my word. Bet Chloe would disagree. My gut churns as I say, “I’m happy to support another local business.”
Ripley excuses herself, then waves to Chloe, who waves back and keeps setting up in the room, which I have a perfect view of through the window on one interior wall.
Zuri hums under her breath, like she’s caught me doing something interesting. Staring. I jerk my gaze away. Best to focus on…the new client walking through the door.
It’s a busy first day as a young girl—maybe thirteen or fourteen—walks up to the counter. “I’m Molly. I’m Linus’s sister. I have Gunnar here for a nail trim and ear cleaning,” she says with all sorts of confidence, then hands off a Maltipoo.
“What a handsome devil,” I say, but inside I’m thinking I barely have a second to chat with Chloe.
When Zuri steps in to say she’ll handle Gunnar, I seize the chance, moving behind the desk and heading straight to her area. I rap on the open door.
Chloe barely glances up from the organizing she’s doing—sorting toys and training targets and a bag of treats. They look homemade.
“Do you…want to sell those here?” I ask, since maybe this will smooth the way to the harder convo.
She knits her brow. “Excuse me?”
“Do you make those? They look homemade. The treats. Want to sell them?”
She’s quiet for a beat. Her eyes are suspicious though. “Is this your way of…” But she seems to bite her tongue, muttering, “Behave” to herself. “Sure, Sawyer,” she says to me.
And I fumbled that one big time. I glance at the counter. Zuri’s off with the dogs and Molly’s gone. I try again. “Chloe, I’m really sorry about earlier. The coconut bread was…great.”
“Oh, you tried it?” she asks, curious, but mostly challenging.
I grimace. I didn’t. I felt too frustrated, too mad at myself, too annoyed with the way I was botching my first day to even sample a slice. “Not yet,” I admit.
“Good call. It might be poisoned,” she says with a stony face.
Well, shit.
She’s good. She’s damn good. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ve been known to poison the men I stalk,” she says, then grits her teeth, like she’s cursing herself. “I didn’t mean—”
But nope. No way can I let her take the brunt of my fuck-up.
I dive into the apology waters. “I’m sorry.
I’m very sorry about the whole thing. I was out of line.
I jumped to conclusions. I was an idiot.
My sisters would tell me to shut my mouth and never speak again.
” I take a breath, then say, “I would like to try again to get along.”
She arches a brow, not quite sold yet. “So…you know I’m not stalking you? You’re clear on that?”
“One hundred percent,” I say.
But have I said enough? I rewind to the night we spent together.
I really don’t want to revisit all the things I shared, but she knows them, and now I’m going to have to share this workspace with her.
Every day. Best to apologize like I mean it.
“But I’ve…well, I’ve got serious trust issues, Chloe. As you know.”
“I’ll say,” she says, but there’s less bite in her tone than there was a minute or so prior.
I tap my chest, owning it. “I…yeah. I freaked out.”
“You did,” she says, holding her ground.
“And those trust issues came out today. My fault. Completely my fault.”
I tug at my shirt collar. It feels tight. Itchy even. Maybe I’m allergic to opening up? Probably.
“I understand,” Chloe says, her tone gentling at last. “And I’m sorry for the poisoning comment.
” She exhales slowly, offers a small conciliatory smile.
“I’m Chloe Rivers. I’m a dog trainer from Darling Springs, and I’m trying to grow my business here.
Chloe’s Paw-sitive Dog Training. Let’s try to get along. ”
“Sawyer Dumont. I own Dog Tails. A dog daycare and grooming business with eight locations now in the Bay Area,” I say, like I’m pitching my résumé.
But it’s better than slinging accusations.
Besides, I’m proud of this business and the way I’ve built it, personally spending time at each location at the start to get them off the ground.
Of finally pursuing one of my passions for work.
“You could say I’m a big fan of dogs. All dogs. Though, my favorite breed is rescue.”
Her smile brightens. “Mine too.”
I stick out a hand to shake.
She studies it for a few seconds, then takes it.
And…wow. Touching her again throws me off for a few seconds as memories of our hands all over each other flash before my eyes.
Her hands against the wall. Mine all over her beautiful body.
I lift my nose, catching the faintest hint of her cinnamon scent.
It’s so fitting for her, and it’s trouble for me.
My gaze drifts to her chest, to the top two undone buttons on her shirt. It’s not racy, but even the sliver of skin exposed is cranking the temperature up in me. Making me remember that night. The things I wanted to do to her if I saw her again.
But we’re working together now, and I know better than to complicate business matters.
A good leader doesn’t drag his personal life into work—that’s Management 101.
“Thanks again. Really appreciate you being so…” What’s the word I’m looking for?
Chill? That hardly covers the relief I feel.
But there’s a word that does. “Professional.”
She seems to mull that over, studying me for a beat. “We can work together. But let’s not pretend we’re friends.”
That’s fair. “Heard.”
Her expression softens a hair—just a flicker—before she clears her throat. “The mayor told me about a TV show being shot in town with some dogs in the cast.”
My brows lift. “That so?”
She nods. “And that’s why I need to move quickly to get my space ready. I’d really like to be involved with the show. With the dog training.”
Looks like we’ve got common ground. “And I’d like to be involved with the daycare. And the grooming. If the show needs any.”
“It’s a truce then,” she says.
Once upon a time I wanted a second date with her. I’ll have to settle for this. “It is.”
She blows out a breath, like she’s relaxed now.
But when she screws up the corner of her mouth, it’s clear there’s something on her mind.
She glances down at her hand, studying her fingers, then lifts the left hand, lowering all but the middle finger an inch or two, saying, “I guess I won’t blame you for my broken nail. ”
She’s not quite flipping me the bird, and it feels like she’s saying I dodged a bullet. I’m grateful, so I add, “Thank you. Want a Band-Aid?”
“I’ll live.”
“Glad to hear.”
I return to the counter, where Zuri’s already arranged the lavender in the vases. I take a piece of coconut bread from the box and bite into the…well, the truce.
And it’s too delicious. Like Chloe.