Chapter 10
TEN
I wear an even brighter shirt to work the next day, pairing it with a colorful pair of pants and a stack of jangling bracelets.
Even I know I look like a rainbow, but it looks cute together, and that’s all that matters.
To further my cause of bringing some sunshine and joy to Graham’s life, I grab the box of decorations to brighten up my workspace with a grin.
When I get to Daytrip, it’s twenty before eight, and Graham is already closed in his office.
I get to work with Blu-Tack and tape, unpacking my box, and ten minutes later Graham steps out of his office. He jolts back when he sees me, confusion and shock on his face for a moment before it’s hidden back behind his neutral mask.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I add a row of colorful felt balls to the front of my desk. They used to decorate my bulletin board at school, and now they look hilariously out of place in this boring office, a Band-Aid on the wound of a glum world.
Once they’re secured, I stand, putting my hands on my hips and giving him a wide, innocent grin. “I’m decorating.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Decorating?” The single word drips with disdain. I have to fight back a laugh at his tone.
“Yes. I can’t spend all of my days in this boring, corporate America hellscape. This place is doom and gloom. We agreed I need to be a bright ray of sunshine to offset your storm cloud.”
His jaw tightens, and joy bubbles in my chest, knowing I’m getting under his skin. I don’t know why I love bothering him so much when, normally, I like to make people feel safe and comfortable, but something about Graham makes me want to get a reaction out of him at any cost.
“Agreed is a very strong term for you saying something and me being in the room while you say it.”
I let out a small laugh then, because he might be grumpy and stern, but he’s also funny.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” I quip. “If I am going to keep my incredibly chipper personality, I need to be in a place that doesn’t look like a padded cell.”
“I don’t pay you to decorate your space, Ms. Taylor. I pay you to get your job done, which you conveniently are not doing.”
Some of that happy glow fades out with his words.
“You don’t pay me at all, Mr. Hawthorne,” I say, irritation in my voice.
“Daydream Resorts pays me, and if we’re really being nitpicky, no one has paid me yet because I haven’t gotten my first paycheck.
” His eyes narrow on me. “But no one is paying me to decorate my workspace, because I’m not on the clock.
I came in early to decorate. I’m not on until…
” I look at my watch and grin at him, forcing it to wash away the irritation I was feeling. “Eight more minutes.”
His look morphs to one of confusion. “You came in early to decorate your workspace?”
I bat my lashes at him, giving him a tight, fake smile.
“I wouldn’t want to make you think I was wasting company time. That might give you the wrong impression of my work ethic.”
He blinks at me a few times before shaking his head, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck.
I’ve frazzled him, I realize. The shock looks good on him, and it makes me want to do it more.
“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s fine.”
“So gracious of you.” He watches me with that same, strange confusion as I reach into my box, pulling out a small vase and then placing a few fake flowers inside.
Dead flowers aren’t very cheerful, and the chance of my remembering to replace them as they get droopy is slim to none.
I fight the urge to look at him again, instead pretending to fluff up the petals.
He doesn’t seem to be able to fight rising to my bait, though.
“Are you always this stubborn?” he asks finally.
I turn to him, smiling with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you always this uptight?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, sorry, I thought we were asking questions with obvious answers.”
It happens then.
His lips tip a bit more, still not a smile but the closest I’ve come to one yet, a light moving into his eyes as if he’s enjoying this back-and-forth as much as I am.
With the way my heart skips a beat each time it happens, I wonder if my desire to make him smile for real is more dangerous than fun, but I can’t find it in me to care.
“Just…don’t go too crazy with it,” he says reluctantly, and I give him a mock salute.
“Aye aye, captain,” I say, then go back to my decorating. After a moment, he sighs and walks toward the break room. I finish up with the flowers, then sit down and clock in. The whole time, I don’t bother to hide the huge smile on my face.
“Hey, Graham,” I say, dipping my head into Graham’s office at the end of the day.
His door was closed most of the afternoon, his day packed with meetings.
If this is what his days normally look like at a new location, I can almost understand why he wouldn’t take advantage of making friends while working.
If he’s only in one place long enough to get it set up and running before moving to the next one, there simply can’t be much time for making relationships.
Unfortunately for him, my empathy doesn’t make me more accepting of that fact; instead, it makes me want to try harder.
By the time he’s done in Seaside Point, I’m determined to make Graham Hawthorne realize having friends can be a good thing.
“I’m heading out,” I say. “I sent over my top three contenders for the GM position from the ones you picked, and once you approve them, I’ll set up interviews.
If you’re okay with it, I can handle the waitstaff interviews, but you’ll have to be in on the GM interviews, since you know what’s needed.
Let me know how you’d like me to go about fitting those in your schedule, and I can make some calls tomorrow, schedule some interviews for next week. ”
He stares at me for long moments, then nods almost begrudgingly.
“Thank you, June. I appreciate it.”
I bite back a smile, but nod before taking a step back.
“It’s my job,” I say, preparing to head out, but his voice stops me.
“Also.” I pause, looking at him expectantly.
He closes his eyes and takes in a breath as if he’s not looking forward to what he has to say next.
My stomach turns, worrying that I must have messed something up, but it melts away the second he starts to speak.
“If you want to decorate your space, you don’t have to come in early to do so.
You’re highly efficient at your job and have excellent time-management skills.
A few minutes here and there to make your space more comfortable is no problem. ”
I blink at him once before my jaw drops a bit as I pretend to stumble, putting a hand to my chest and leaning on the doorway for support. He looks at me with concern, but I speak before he can question me.
“Was that a compliment?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I think you just complimented me,” I say with wide eyes.
“No, I didn’t,” he says quickly, but I shake my head.
“Yes, you did. You said I’m competent at my job. That’s a compliment, Graham.”
I close my eyes and smile to myself.
“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding incredibly exasperated. It makes me smile wider.
“Savoring the moment. A compliment is step one on our friendship journey, you know.”
I push aside the fact that he definitely complimented me plenty the night before I started working here. I open one eye at him, taking in his face, which looks as confused and annoyed as I had pictured. “This came much sooner than I anticipated.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me, but I can see the light of entertainment on his face.
“You’re a pain. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Every day of my life,” I say with a smile. “Later, Graham.”
“Have a good night, June.”
On Friday, I pop my head inside Graham’s office midday.
“Want to grab lunch? I’m calling in take-out since it’s disgusting out.
” The gloomy, rainy weather means I won’t get to eat outside in the sun, so ordering in from my favorite local lunch spot was a needed treat.
He stares at me for a moment, and I think he might just take my offer before he shakes his head.
“No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
“One day,” I say with a smile.
“Not likely,” he replies low.
“I’m very perseverant, Graham. I’m going to wear you down one of these days.”
He glares at me, and I wave, turning back to my desk, but as I leave, I hear him mumble under his breath, "That’s what I’m afraid of," and I know I am definitely getting closer.
By the time my lunch is almost over, I’m getting terribly antsy.
I’ve come to realize that while I enjoy this new job, I need something to break the monotony of sitting all day.
I’m used to being on my feet, teaching, physically and mentally exhausting myself, and not doing that has left me jittery by the end of the day.
Normally, getting outside for my lunch helps, but since it’s pouring rain today, I have to get creative.
With ten minutes left in my break, I do what I always used to do in my classroom on a rainy day when the kids needed to let out a bit of excess energy: pull up a random music video, hit play, and start dancing out my wiggles.
“What are you doing?” a deep voice asks halfway through my song. I look over my shoulder at him and see he’s watching me, leaning in the doorway of his office with something akin to alarm on his face.
“I’m dancing,” I say, explaining the obvious. He blinks at me as I continue to move in place, shaking out my arms and legs.
“I see that,” he says slowly, brows furrowing deeper. “Why are you dancing in the middle of the office?”
“I’m doing a brain break. I used to do it with the kids.
Every so often, you’ve got to get up and move your body, get the wiggles out.
Keeps you on your toes and your energy high, especially on a gloomy day like this.
” I reach out to him. “Want to join?” He looks at my outstretched hand and shakes his head, a small scowl on his lips.
“I don’t think that would be… appropriate,” he says
“Friends dance together.”
“Too bad we’re not friends.”
“So you keep saying,” I say. I continue to move, trying not to show my surprise or feel self-conscious as he stays leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching me, though that second part is becoming more difficult by the moment.
“What’s the sound?” he asks after a bit.
“Music. Graham. It’s music. Happy sounds that people listen to instead of sitting in boring silence.
” I bite back a smile when he glares at me.
The tiniest things annoy him to no end, and like the little sister I am, I can’t help but want desperately to get under his skin.
“It’s “Ring My Bell” by Anita Ward. It’s supposed to be lucky.
I saw somewhere that they almost banned it from casinos, because when they played it, everyone started winning.
I don’t actually know if that’s true: I couldn’t find any respectable resource on it, but it couldn’t hurt.
” I’m panting now, my breathing growing ragged as I move and talk simultaneously, but when the edges of his lips tip in that almost, not quite smile, my heart rate increases tenfold.
“Is it bothering you?” I ask, moving in a circle.
“I can bring headphones in tomorrow, or do it in the break room.” He stares at me for a moment, then, to my surprise, he shakes his head.
“No. It’s not bothering me,” he says as the song ends, and I stop moving.
“Because you like me?” I ask. “And you want to see me happy?”
He rolls his eyes before turning back into his office and closing the door behind him without another word.
With his retreat and my song over, I sit in my seat, feeling a bunch better—sometimes you just need to get the wiggles out.
And, maybe, to get a hint of a smile from your grouchy boss.