2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Spencer
Avery snaps the door closed, her footsteps muffled by the carpet as she returns to her desk. It's been a shitty morning, and I haven't had enough coffee. I wasn’t trying to group her in with the irritating people I usually deal with. If anything, I’m annoyed with myself for anticipating her usual morning chatter. I could care less who the barista is dating or what cat videos Oscar prefers. It’s the way her sapphire eyes shine as she talks and she bounces on her toes when she’s excited. Her light laugh and the way her nose scrunches when I frown. I shouldn’t find it adorable. That I do pisses me off.
Reaching for my cup, I debate going out to apologize. I never had to with Dottie. The older woman never took my shit. If I was out of line, she'd scold me like a child, never mind that I could fire her. We found a way to work without bickering and everything went smoothly until she sprung this trip around the world on me. I worried that she was becoming forgetful. How could she not tell me about plans to take almost four months off? I should have known better. She'd booked the cruise with her senior center friends but waited to tell me until after she’d hired her granddaughter as a temp replacement. She said it was to soften the blow. I suspect it was because she knew I’d be pissed and removed any objections she thought I’d have.
Despite my irritation, I let her go on the cruise. Of course I did. I may be an asshole at times, but I’m not going to deny an old lady some happiness in her last years, even if it does put me in a bind. At least she saved me the hassle of finding someone to fill in.
Dottie is part sweet, cookie-baking grandma, part matchmaker, and part battleax. I wasn't sure what to expect of her granddaughter.
Whatever I had imagined, it wasn't Avery. Fuck, I had to double check her paperwork because I thought she was underage. She showed up wearing a white sweater over a flippy little skirt and tights. I prefer older women, but holy hell, the first time she called me “Sir” I had some very inappropriate fantasies of her wearing a barely there schoolgirl uniform while I took her over my knee.
I locked myself in my office, afraid of what I'd do when I saw her again. I’ve spent every day since trying to keep her at a distance, even going so far as to email my fucking instructions for the day. But every morning, she greets me with the same sweet smile, a cup of coffee fixed exactly how I like it, and something for breakfast from the little coffee shop in town. She chatters away, filling the silence, while I suck down some coffee and try to kick start my brain. It’s become our normal routine. Except I cut her off today and sent her scurrying away, believing she annoys me.
Fuck. I better apologize. After I get myself under control.
Today, she looks like a naughty librarian with her tight skirt, glasses, and silky blouse. The skirt is the same blue as her glasses and the streaks in her raven hair, which she's twisted up into two little buns. I want to unpin them and run my fingers through the strands to see if they’re as soft as they appear. Find out if that sweet floral scent comes from a bottle or her skin. Would she ever allow me that close?
Sometimes I catch her watching me. At first, I paid no attention, but as weeks have passed, I find myself shamelessly wishing for more.
At twenty-three, she's almost half my age. I shouldn’t want more . I'm already going to hell for all the fantasies I've had about this woman. And it's not only because she’s gorgeous. She's charmed all my clients, cleaned and organized the office, making it far more efficient, and brightened this work trailer with her smile. I think most of my crew is in love with her. Even some of the married guys come in a little more often than necessary. Something inside her draws people like a magnet. Draws me .
I thought I’d learned my lesson about falling for the wrong woman with my ex-fiancé. This obsession has to stop.
My phone rings, breaking me out of my thoughts on Avery. Has it been an hour since I arrived? Jesus Christ. This is why I hole up in here away from her. I'm not getting any work done.
I take the call from my foreman and arrange to meet him outside to go over the plans for the master bedroom. I’m about to leave my office when I hear Avery’s angry voice through the thin walls.
“You can't do this to me.”
My stomach knots. Who the fuck is bothering my assistant? Whoever it is, they'll answer to me. Throwing open the door between our offices, I… don’t see anyone.
Avery spins her chair toward me, eyes rounding behind her glasses. She's gripping her cell phone until her knuckles are white. I march to her desk, ready to grab the phone and give the person on the line hell.
“He's right here, Grandma,” Avery says, halting my anger mid-steam. “No, I think we should talk more about… fine. Here he is.”
She thrusts the phone at me, a mutinous glare in her eyes. This might be the first frown I've seen from Avery. It's all wrong, and I want to tear into Dottie for whatever she said to upset her granddaughter.
“Dottie?”
“Spencer! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Barbara. It’s four in the morning here, you know.”
I pull the phone away from my face to stare at it. Is the woman mad?
Avery snorts a giggle. She’s stacking up the mail on her desk, shaking her head and flattening her lips as if she’s trying not to laugh.
Gritting my teeth, I rein in my temper and try to keep my voice down. “If that is a concern, why are you calling so early? Is something wrong?”
“Is Avery doing a good job there?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Only fine? I thought she would do very well. What’s she doing wrong? I’ll talk to her.”
Scowling, I grab the pile of mail off Avery’s desk and stomp back into my office, closing the door. “What’s going on, Dot? Why the sudden concern over her performance at four am?”
“Well, it’s just that we’re having a wonderful time.”
I drop into my chair, struggling for patience. Dottie is not usually this scrambled. Either she is getting senile or something else is going on. Knowing the woman as well as I do… “Out with it.”
She laughs, and there’s an edge of nervousness to it. “Never could fool you. I’m asking about my granddaughter because I’ve decided to retire.”
Leaning back in my chair, I feel the tension drain out of my shoulders. In truth, I wasn’t sure what I would do when Dottie returned. I couldn’t fire an old woman in good conscience, but Avery has streamlined our operation, saving time and money. I don’t want to lose her. There simply wasn’t enough work to justify both women’s employment. “Good. You deserve to enjoy life.” I reach for the mail and snag the plain envelope on top. Odd, it only has my name scrawled on it.
“Avery has settled in there at Hope Peak. I know she’ll do well for you…”
I stop listening when I open the single folded page within.
Dear Mr. Sullivan,
This letter is to inform you of my resignation as of…
I hang up on Dottie and march back out to the front office to demand an explanation from Avery. How can she resign without even telling me? Was she going to just leave?
“Avery, what the fuck—?”
I’m greeted by the sight of my assistant under her desk, delectable ass in the air, muttering to herself. Her skirt is hiked up, showing the back of her creamy thighs. My thoughts completely derail.
“Miss Blackwood,” I choke out. My cock swells almost painfully, pressing against my fly.
Startled, she bumps her head on the underside of the desk. “Ow.” She backs out from the awkward space, and it's all I can do not to stare at that ass.
She’s twenty-three, asshole. Twenty. Three. Way too young for you.
My body doesn’t give a damn, even though I’m almost forty. I am definitely going to hell.
Avery climbs to her feet and waves a business card in the air. “Got it! Mr. Lane's card fell behind the desk.” Her smile is blinding, like digging under her desk made her happy. Meanwhile, her blouse has slipped off one shoulder and strands of blue and raven hair have fallen out of the little buns to brush her delicate collarbone.
My breath saws in and out of my lungs, my heart thundering in my ears. I reach for her, ready to drag her against my body and claim those plump lips as mine. In my hand, I see her resignation letter, and my brain blessedly comes back online before I do something we’ll both regret.
Lust flips to anger in my blood and something shifts inside me. She thinks she’s leaving me? Not just no, but fuck no. My hot little assistant isn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. She’s mine. “Care to explain this, Miss Blackwood?”