Chapter 6 #2
“Me too.” My smile was genuine, the comfort of numbers settling into my bones. Although the name Grant had five letters - odd - which didn’t sit well. Was it too soon to ask him his surname and see if I could even it out a little?
“What does a Still Operator do around here?” I asked instead.
“My job is to make sure the distillation process runs smoothly. Monitor the temperatures, check the purity of the product.”
“Sounds busy.”
“This place runs smoothly. The boss has made sure of that, so unless something drastic happens, it’s usually not too hard.”
I softened at the way he spoke about Cooper. “Well, it’s definitely something. I’m impressed,” I complimented honestly.
“The boss will be happy to hear that. This place is his pride and joy.” There was genuine admiration in his tone, an undercurrent of respect for a man I realised I didn’t quite know anymore.
“If you head right through there.” He pointed, “You’ll find him in his office. It was nice meeting you, Evangeline.”
“You too, thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.” He said over his shoulder, heading off as quickly as he arrived.
It was quieter back here, the voices from earlier fading away as soft music hummed through the only open door I could see, and my stomach fluttered with anticipation. Hitching my pants up again, I took a deep breath and knocked gently, spotting him behind a desk focused on whatever he was reading.
To say it looked like a bomb had gone off would be putting it mildly.
The room was the opposite of the immaculately lined shelving out on the factory floor.
Cooper was barely visible behind mountains of paperwork, and crates of bottles were scattered everywhere.
I was glad I’d worn my Docs as every inch of space looked like a trip hazard.
The sudden screech of his chair against the floor startled me, and then he was up, his face splitting into a grin. The mental grit I’d been rehearsing dissipated like bubbles in the wind. There was no denying what was right in front of me – Cooper Dane was still annoyingly handsome.
His soft blond hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, those blue eyes as clear as water.
He filled the room with his presence and was as delectable as I remembered.
But my favourite thing about him was that smile.
It illuminated his entire face and was as contagious as a yawn.
So consequently, I mirrored his visible happiness as he walked around his mahogany desk and engulfed me in a hug.
The same steady reassuring feeling from the last time I saw him washed over me and I sunk into his embrace in the same way the tide cradles the shore.
My body was such a traitorous whore.
“Hey, Evy,” he breathed.
This was an entirely different man to the one who drove me home.
The anger was nowhere to be seen as he held me tight.
This was the Cooper I remembered. The one who blew bubbles in his drinks, but only when the straw was in his nose.
The one who looked back every few minutes on the way to school to make sure I was okay.
The one who came to check I had someone to sit with every single lunch time and on days I didn’t, stayed with me.
This was the one I fell in love with. And it would do me good to remember how quickly he could switch it up and shatter my world.
Which was also why I was holding my breath.
The whiskey alone was a lot, let alone the masculine scent he’d drowned me in when he dropped me home.
That would be my downfall and a sure way to get me asking questions which were not safe for work.
Taking a step back before I passed out, I took a subtle inhale.
“Hello.” I was surprised I wasn’t feeling more nervous, but it was as though the second I saw him, a familiar melody settled over me, cherished memories unlocking and reminding me of his place in my heart.
This was my friend, the one who listened when it felt like there was no one else around, also the sexiest man in all of Sydney, but that was neither here nor there.
Cooper looked me up and down, and I mean slowly took me in from the top of my head, down the baggy white linen shirt, jeans and to my Doc Martens, before trailing back up where he visibly swallowed.
“What? Am I underdressed?” No disguising the annoyance in my tone, I stared at him unblinkingly.
I’d intentionally dressed down, wanting both to be comfortable, but also to denote an aura of cool, calm and collected.
This was a job. I was an employee here for six weeks.
I was breezy and assured and not even remotely affected by him.
“Not underdressed,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Here,” he gestured towards what may have been another chair, but the absolute paper massacre currently encroaching on every visible surface made it hard to be sure.
“Do you have shares in a paper company?”
“Don’t judge, Evangeline. I signed up for whiskey, not paperwork. I know jack shit about balance sheets, taxes and forecasts. That’s why you’re here, right?”
“That or to report you to the local recycling facilities,” I retorted and to my surprise he laughed. “Tell me how you see this playing out?”
I could sweep his accounts. I could ensure his bookkeeping was up to date and his current financials weren’t alarming, however, based on the state of this office, it was going to take me a lot longer than anticipated, because I couldn’t even begin to do that with the room looking like this.
The filing cabinet had obviously given up on life… a long time ago.
“Evs,” he stood, arcing his arm around the papermill, “I need help from someone who knows what they’re doing.
I’m a little behind.” Breathing deeply out of his nose, he suddenly looked tired.
“I owe money. And not because I don’t have it, but because I’ve let this shit get so messy.
It’s confusing and I don’t know how much or who to.
But I haven’t been able to find the right person.
Someone I trust. I know you’re the guru of numbers if your test scores are anything to go by and I trust you.
So really, I just need someone to look over shit and tell me what’s going on. ”
I stood again, hitching my jeans up and narrowing my eyes. Seemed easy enough. I mean childhood crush, an entire warehouse of new people and my boss’ opinions of me aside.
“Okay,” I said, looking around. “Numbers I can do. I must be here five days per week for a minimum of seven hours a day so what suits you? I can sort my part-time work around what will be best.” I said, already stressing about how this was going to pan out when my regular clients had set days they liked their houses cleaned.
I couldn’t wait for this to be over and to get a job doing something I actually loved.
Something more like what I would be doing here but in a permanent capacity.
“Seb mentioned you clean houses?”
“I do. Nothing exciting. I hate it actually, but it pays really well, and I can listen to Crime Junkie while I work.” I shrugged as if it were a boring topic of conversation.
“Are you up to date?”
“Up to date with what?” I asked, confused.
“Crime Junkie, obviously.” He looked at me as if I’d grown two heads and I remembered how he also loved true crime. How we would watch CSI whenever he stayed over our house and try to solve the crimes as if it was a documentary.
“Of course. I prioritise it over my studies.” He laughed, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.
“It’s going to take you over an hour to get here and then the same back home, right?”
“Technically, but I looked at a few places this morning and put an application in on one. I was going to move here eventually anyway, so I figured why not now.”
His eyes narrowed into slits as he studied me quizzically.
“I have a proposition for you,” he mused, as if the thought was only just coming to him.
“Go on,” I replied, instantly uncertain. A proposition on day one was not screaming comfort.
“Believe it or not, this is going to be a huge job,” he huffed self-deprecatingly, poking a stack of papers with his foot.
“And I spend most of my time here. Which means my house is often empty and only a short drive away.” He studied me as if he were building to something, but I gave him nothing.
No inclination as to how I was feeling or what I was thinking.
If I’d learnt anything from my brother it was how to mask my emotions behind a steel cage, although my mind was racing with what I thought was coming.
“I will happily sign that paperwork you sent through and make sure you’re able to do everything required to complete your course.”
“But?” I asked, hoisting my pants up again, angry at the belt which sat on my bed and not around my waist.
“But,” he smirked, before taking a deep breath, “I need a couple of things from you.” He had the decency to look contrite which told me more than I needed. This was not my brother’s friend doing him a favour, this was Cooper happy to help because he also needed something in return.
Excellent. This was a place I found comfort. It was always easier when it was a level playing field. This meant I wouldn’t be wracked with guilt or feel indebted to him. Maybe I wouldn’t be the sad little sister who needed assistance. Again.
“Like what?” I let a teasing note creep into my voice, pushing my glasses back up my nose.
“Well first I’ll pay you,” he held his hand up as I went to protest. “I will pay you, Evangeline, because I want you to quit your other job.” I felt my eyes widen as he came and stood directly in front of me.
“I will triple whatever you’re currently making.” He paused, a skilled negotiator waiting for me to say something, only I didn’t. Couldn’t. “But I also need you to live with me while you’re working here.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. Why would I possibly need to stay with him? I couldn’t. That was a hard no.
“Hear me out,” he said, crossing and then uncrossing his arms across his chest. “My house is big enough. You’ll have your own space, and I won’t bother you. It’s going to take you a while to work through this and I don’t want you to be stressed about travelling, finding a place or making money.”
My mind was racing, desperate to keep up with everything he was saying.
And from what I could gather, what he was saying was completely logical.
But I couldn’t stay with him. Be in his house. Be near him constantly. Not when I was already going to be working for him for six whole weeks. The effort to maintain this indifferent facade was going to be exhausting enough at work, let alone sleeping under the same roof.
“That makes zero sense,” I protested. It made perfect sense.
“I won’t be stressed about money,” I scoffed. I would most definitely be stressed about money.
“I can’t just quit my job,” I insisted. I could quit my job and would do so happily. In fact, I’d likely take great pleasure in doing so. And for three times the amount of money - where do I sign?
“I absolutely can’t live with you,” I added weakly. I can and would likely enjoy it more than the internship…
He waited for me to finish my bullet point list of why I couldn’t accept before he sucked all the air from my lungs with his final request.
“I need your help, Evy, and if I explain it you probably won’t understand because it’s stupid and fucked up and I’m an idiot.
Just, I need you to move in with me while you’re working here.
I need you to be here for at least four months, not six weeks, and I will pay you whatever you want, because…
” he sucked in a deep breath and all I could focus on was that number.
Four. It meant whatever was coming next wasn’t good.
But nothing could have prepared me for the words which left his mouth.
“Because I need you to do those things while pretending to be madly in love with me – as my fiancée.”