Chapter 3
SADIE
Being a city girl is harder than I anticipated.
I’ve been in Chicago for two weeks and still haven’t figured out how to shop for groceries. Apparently, I’m supposed to go to the store several times a week to get a few items instead of one giant grocery run that I try to muscle home. Four blocks don’t seem like a lot until you’re faced with carrying your load back to your apartment, and then suddenly, it becomes the workout of a lifetime.
I had some extra time this morning, so I stopped at the corner market to grab a few essentials and dry goods. I made sure it was a small amount that I’d be able to carry home from work. Just slowly stockpiling.
And then there’s the food delivery. Harper told me that whenever I order food from DoorDash, I need to put a man’s name on the ticket in case a sketchy delivery boy drops it off—I don’t want anyone thinking a single woman lives alone in my apartment.
It’s all very different from the small town I grew up in.
I wear comfortable shoes to walk to work in and then change into my cute ones once I get here—so many things I’ve never thought about before. However, there’s no dress code at Superior Health, so my cute work shoes are a me thing, not a work thing.
Without permission, my gaze travels across the office to Nash Carter. He’s standing behind Eli, arms folded, looking at something on the computer. Nash has perfected his casual but well-dressed style. His fitted navy t-shirt hugs his arm muscles and chest, ending just past the waist of his jeans, where a stylish belt buckle peeks out. He doesn’t give off cowboy vibes, but he definitely looks like he’d be best friends with John Wayne and fit in on a ranch somewhere in Texas—not what I expected when moving to the city. Nash’s jeans-in-the-workplace policy took me by surprise. I mean, Stetson wears dress shirts to law school every day, so I expected fancier attire from a major business in downtown Chicago. But Nash’s rugged style suits his laid-back personality.
He straightens, and as if he can sense me watching him, his eyes shoot to me. I don’t immediately turn away, and I’m rewarded with a small but attractive smile that creates flutters in my stomach.
What the heck was that?
I swallow hard and scoot my chair into my desk like I intend to work my way out of being attracted to my boss.
But it’s too late.
He’s on his way to me.
When I arrived at work two weeks ago and saw the charming guy from the Cubs game, I about died. My heart exploded in my chest from shock. There’s no other acceptable reason for the burst.
Nash has been all business since I got here, just like he promised he would be. I should be grateful. The last thing I want is to be favored in this internship because a man wants a relationship with me. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss his shameful flirting from the Cubs game.
It was nice to be pursued.
I haven’t had that in years—maybe never. Unless you count the note Stetson gave me in third grade that said, “Be my girlfriend. Circle yes or no.” I circled yes, and from that moment on, I’ve always been his. So much so that he’s never had to work hard again to get me to fall for him. My love was just assumed and expected—like a lot of things in my life. Where I’d live. Where I’d work. Who I’d marry. When every decision for my future has already been made, it takes away the excitement of the journey.
That’s the problem with Nash. He brings excitement to my otherwise pre-determined life, and I like it.
He stops just outside my cubicle, resting his elbow on the wall. He looks massive in my small space, and the flutters from moments ago swirl to life again, as if his presence gave them their second wind.
“Have you looked at the Green Acres long-term care facility yet?”
Work. Yes, let’s focus on work.
“I have.” I search around my desk for the file to jog my memory on which facility we’re talking about. When I don’t immediately find it, I stand and start moving my grocery bags around, looking under each one.
“Did you go shopping?” Nash leans over, peeking inside one of my bags.
“I went before work.” I don’t want him to think I grocery-shopped during business hours.
“Is that a can of Spaghetti-Os?” He reaches inside, pulling it out. His smile teeters between amused and teasing as he holds the can up for me to see as if I wasn’t the one who purchased it.
“I’ve never actually had Spaghetti-Os.” I shift my weight, feeling nervous. “My best friend used to eat them whenever I visited her at college, so I just thought I’d give it a try.”
“An American delicacy. I’m sure you’ll love it.” The playfulness in his eyes makes me think he knows something about Spaghetti-Os that I don’t. “What else do you have in here?” He reaches into the bag and pulls out Goldfish crackers, fruit snacks, and Top Ramen. His smile grows more prominent with each item.
My food choices make me look like a freaking six-year-old.
“Your palette reminds me of a toddler,” he jokes, noticing what I hoped he wouldn’t. He’s not wrong. I get everything plain. I don’t eat vegetables. Heck, I’d eat cheese pizza if it was acceptable for a grown adult.
“I’ve never lived on my own. So Spaghetti-Os and Top Ramen seemed like a rite of passage I needed to experience.”
“You’ve never lived on your own?” His brows jump in surprise. “Not even in college?”
“I commuted from my parents' house to Syracuse University. My dad thought it would be best to live at home so I could still be involved with his business.”
He nods as if he understands.
I find the Green Acres folder and hold it up. “Here it is.” I open the file, looking at the pictures. “Oh, yeah. I wasn’t impressed with this facility. It seems dirty, and the bed-to-staff ratio is way off. Plus, every time I called to speak with the director, I was on hold for over ten minutes.” I hand the folder to Nash. “I don’t recommend we staff it.”
He leans back against my desk, crossing his ankles as he reads over my notes. “Yeah, I actually agree with you.”
“You do?” I match his position, accidentally brushing my shoulder against his arm. The way that shoulder brush speeds up my heart is downright illegal.
“Why are you so surprised?” He eyes me from the side.
“I just thought you’d want every account possible. You know, to make more money.”
“First rule of business:”—he turns to face me, and I’m keenly aware of how little the seven inches between us are—“you’re only as good as the clients you represent. I don’t want to staff a facility that’s not a great place to work.” He hands the folder back to me. “So let’s pass on this one. We’ll find something better, and when we do, we’ll celebrate over a can of Spaghetti-Os.” The playfulness in his smile revs up my heartbeats even more.
“They’re gross, right? That’s why you keep bringing it up.”
“I’m not going to ruin your Spaghetti-Os coming-out party by giving you my opinion just to pre-determine yours. It takes the fun out of trying something new. I’m all about the journey.”
Trying something new. All about the journey.
This is exactly the kind of shake-up I’ve been looking for in my life. I just didn’t expect it to come from my cute boss.
We’re staring at each other, smiling, and it’s like the walls of my cubicle close in on us. Suddenly, everything feels too intimate. I step back to drop the Green Acres folder on the credenza.
“Is this your family?” He plants his hands on my desk and leans down, looking at the picture pinned up on the fabric wall by my computer. It’s of us in front of Skaneateles Lake.
“Yeah, that’s my parents; my brother, Tate; and my little sister, Annie.”
“Annie looks like a younger version of you.”
“I know.” I make my way to his side, wanting to look at the picture with him as if I’ve never seen it. “If we were closer in age, I think people would mistake us as twins.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen. She’s just starting her senior year in high school.”
“And Tate? Is he a big Cubs fan?”
“No, that was his first game. He drove me out here. We decided to catch the game last minute before he flew home.”
“That was nice of your brother to help you move to Chicago when he didn’t think you should take the internship.”
“Oh, Tate was the only one who was all for it. He’s Team Sadie.” I smile, thinking about the unconditional love my big brother always gives me. “Whatever I want, he wants. No questions asked.”
“And is this Stetson?” His focus moves to a picture of us in front of the tree last Christmas. We’re both wearing ugly sweaters and giant smiles.
“Uh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling twisty about Nash staring at a picture of Stetson and me.
“The kind of boyfriend you’re still loyal to even though he broke up with you.” He shoots me a sideways glance.
“If it makes you feel any better, Tate wanted me to keep your number.”
His head inclines toward me. “Tate’s not pro-Stetson?”
“He was until Stetson gave me an ultimatum about Chicago. Now Tate is pro me experiencing new things, including the charming stranger at the Cubs game.”
“I knew I liked your brother.” His smile stretches wider. “And did you just admit that I’m charming?”
“You don’t need me to admit that. You already know you’re charming and happily lean into it.”
“But it’s more fun hearing you say it.”
I should probably check my pulse after that smile Nash gave me—just to make sure I’m still alive and well.
He glances back at Stetson’s picture. “You know, I take back what I said about him having a punchable face.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, he actually looks like a broke Henry Cavill.”
A burst of laughter spits out, and I immediately cover my mouth, partly to hide the noise and partly because I shouldn’t be laughing at a joke about Stetson’s looks.
Nash laughs too but, thankfully, moves on. “You come from the perfect family.”
“Oh, don’t let the picture fool you. We’re all kinds of dysfunctional. My dad rags on my brother for not having a suitable life plan. My mom shoves all our problems under the rug and pretends like there’s nothing wrong. Tate seems depressed and lost, and I can’t figure out why. Annie is self-centered and oblivious to it all.”
“And you?” His green eyes stare deep into mine.
I smile, masking the frustration with my family that’s built over the last few months. “I’m living my best life in Chicago.”
“Until you leave to take over the family business. Then you’ll really be living your best life.”
“Actually”—my heart thuds as I say words I haven’t admitted to anyone before—“I don’t know if my dad will ever let me take over his business. Not really. I can totally see him pretending to retire and then coming into work every day just to micromanage me or tell me how I’m doing everything all wrong.”
“I can’t imagine a world where your dad doesn’t know how capable and incredible you are. I’m sure he knows it but doesn’t say it out loud.”
“Maybe.” I shrug, blowing out a heavy breath. “But until he does say it out loud, I’m going to work my butt off to prove that I have what it takes. His blatant rejection of this internship made me realize, for the first time, that his love is contingent upon me doing what he wants me to do. I should’ve realized it sooner with my brother. Tate broke the mold my parents had set up for him, and their relationship hasn’t been the same since. By coming out here, now I’m the one that’s ruining my life.”
“I’m sorry that things are so complicated with your family right now.” The softness behind his eyes is enough to melt me.
I’ve allowed Nash to see parts of me that I usually keep hidden away. I want to ask about his family and learn the struggles that make up the backbone of his life.
My mouth opens to ask about him, but Grace beats me to it, popping her head into my cubicle.
“Nash, Donovan Garcia is on the phone for you.”
“I better take that.” He follows Grace but pauses to say, “I hope, in the end, your dad sees what I see.”
And then he’s gone.
I drop into my chair, leaning back to stare at the ceiling tiles.
Opening up to Nash Carter was way too easy. I told him things that I’ve never even told Stetson.
I’ll spend the rest of the day thinking about why I did that.