Chapter 4
Daniel
I didn’t mean to touch her. But there’s something magnetic about her. My hand just can’t stop from going to her shoulder. I want to stand beside her and be with her even though I have work I should be doing. Nothing that has to be done before tomorrow, but I had zero plans of helping the interior decorator finish this up.
But the task is almost impossible, and I don’t know how she can do it by herself.
Still, she gave me an out, and I need to take it. I shouldn’t get so wrapped up in trying to keep other people happy. Although, that seems to be my gift in life, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t use it. I like to think of myself as a mediator rather than a people pleaser. After all, isn’t it better when everyone gets along?
“I have a few things I need to take care of, but I will be back around to check on you,” I finally say, even though I want to say don’t worry about my regular duties, I will help you however I can .
I pull out my phone. “But first, let me show you the pictures I have from last year. If you give me your phone number, I can send these to you, and you can study them.”
“Please,” she says, rattling off her number.
I type it in and then send her the pictures I have of last year’s ballroom. There are people in some of them, but I don’t think that matters. Right now, what she needs is a good idea of what she has to do in order to get this to look the way Samuel wants it to look.
It’s taking a while for the pictures to go to her phone, so I bring them up on mine again and hold it out to her. Our fingers brush as she tilts the phone so she can see.
I don’t jerk away, but to my surprise, I’m tempted to. What is it about this woman? Amber. Isn’t that what she said her name was? Like I could forget, except that handshake did not feel like a normal handshake, and it seemed to make all the thoughts in my head want to fly away.
She drops her hand, almost as though she’s having the same problem, and studies the picture while I study her.
I don’t mean to, but her dark hair is an interesting contrast to my more sandy blond. And I totally don’t know why I am thinking that way. What does it matter how our hair contrasts with each other?
Her fingers are tapered and delicate, but somehow still look capable. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself, with confidence but not arrogance. She walks a fine line, which a lot of people are unable to do.
I admire that. She reminds me some of my mother. Maybe I’m looking for a woman who has my mother’s great qualities, of which there are many, but not quite her draconian personality, which can be overwhelming and, if I’m being honest, downright scary.
This woman seems to have a softness, which covers a core of steel. I sense it, more than I see it, but it’s one of those things I’m sure of and don’t need visual evidence.
I have to admit, I’m intrigued.
“I wonder how they got those things right there,” she says, and her voice trails off as though she’s thinking about it. “Do you mind if I make this picture bigger? They still haven’t made it to my phone.”
“Go right ahead. Study it all you want to.”
“Thank you.” She takes the phone in her hands and makes the picture bigger. I know I should find something else to do, but looking at her seems to be an occupation I could spend all day doing.
I’m tempted to tell her that I’ll give her a hand as she pulls a lip in and bites down on it, still studying the pictures.
I hear her phone buzz, and she smiles. “That’s the pictures. I’ll release your phone, and you, also. Although... Would it be terrible if I ask you to show me how to get back to the decoration room?”
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t expect you to have the house layout memorized in such a short amount of time. Lucky for you, it’s not hard to get to. I can actually help you carry the boxes here if you’d like.”
“Oh. Well, they shouldn’t be heavy. It’s mostly tinsel as far as I can tell.”
“No. But I think there’s about six or seven of them. And they’re not small.”
“All right,” she says, giving me a little smile. “Anything that you’re willing to help with, I’ll accept.”
“I think that’s a good thing, because I’m the only help you’re going to get. Everyone else is cleaning the house, inside and out, to get ready for tomorrow. Or else cooking anything that can be prepped ahead of time.”
“It sounds busy,” she says as she pulls her phone up, clicking on the pictures and studying them some more. Then looking around the room.
“I’m ready to follow you whenever,” she says, and I take that as a hint. I start to walk toward the door.
She’s so determined to make this work. It looks like an impossible task to me. And all I’ve offered to help with was carrying boxes. I feel like I should help more. I tell myself that if she asks me to, I will.
But we get back to the room, which isn’t far, and she doesn’t ask. I show her the boxes and then start carrying them, and she seems to be thinking about what needs to be done and barely aware that I’m there.
“All right, if you need anything, you have my number,” I say, thinking about how much I would like to be able to use that number for personal reasons. Normally I don’t have a problem being interested in anyone on staff. It’s not that my brother has a strict policy or anything, it just seems wiser to keep a distance.
“Thank you. I really appreciate everything,” she says sincerely, and it’s all I can do to nod my head and walk away.