Chapter 3
Daisy
At eleven in the morning, Daisy already wanted to be done. Multiple-client days were always exhausting. Her first group tested every ounce of her patience.
They were high school students doing team-building as part of the training for a new internship program being offered by Daisy’s workplace, Collaborative Craft. They’d get college credit for assisting Daisy and her coworkers with large events Collaborative Craft hosted throughout the year.
She had looked forward to working with the group—teenagers were often enthusiastic, even when the activities were lame.
However, unbeknownst to Daisy, this group comprised her boss’s spoiled brat of a daughter and her friends.
The sense of entitlement rolled off them in waves and had Daisy clenching her fists and taking deep breaths to avoid losing her shit.
The constant arguing and deafening shrieks of outrage and flirtation were driving Daisy up a wall.
When the timer on her phone went off, relief flooded her.
The kids paid no attention to the alarm.
She increased the volume and played the alarm again.
When they still didn’t shut up, Daisy climbed onto a chair, clapped her hands, and yelled, “Hey!”
The six teenagers glared at her but ceased their incessant yammering.
“Time’s up! Let’s measure your towers.”
Daisy had instructed them to break into pairs and build the tallest tower they could with marshmallows and spaghetti noodles. Only one pair had bothered to build a tower. The other groups had opted instead to inhale entire bags of jumbo marshmallows while playing a game of chubby bunnies.
She rubbed at her temples and declared the one team that had participated the winners. Thank God for lunchtime. Daisy handed out the lunches the company had ordered for the group and bolted from the room, determined to sit in dark silence for a few minutes before she had to face her new clients.
She had barely had the chance to finish her sad PB his appearance alone told her he wouldn’t be much help anyway.
This one’s mom never taught him not to roll up to a new job in basketball shorts and a stained t-shirt advertising a local dispensary.
His gaze didn’t leave Daisy’s chest as he answered her question with a shrug. “We had lunch.”
She was well endowed, and the dress she had chosen for the day accentuated some of her favorite features, but damn, if she had to stoop to meet this boy’s eyes one more time she might lose her shit.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered under her breath, then louder, “Help me clean it; the next group will be here any minute.”
Daisy grabbed a small gray garbage bin and rushed around to each table, sweeping armfuls of trash into it, barring plastic cups with liquid still in them. The teenager picked one item up at a time and held it up for her inspection, asking, “Where should I put this?” This kid was no help.
Sweat dripped down her forehead, into her eyes, and when only cups remained, she swept soggy curls from her face with the back of her hand.
She reached for a cup at the same time as James/Jeremy/John. Disaster struck. He held on a little too long as she lifted it from the table, and the liquid flew out of the cup and onto her, coating her face, hair, and chest in a mystery fluid.
The intern watched in horror. He raised his hands in surrender when she gave him a murderous glare.
“What. The Fuck. Was that?” she demanded.
“We were messing around! They dared each other to drink it!”
“To drink what?”
The boy lowered his gaze to the floor and mumbled, “Everything.”
Daisy didn’t know what drinking ‘everything’ meant, but from the taste on her lips and splotches on her now-sheer dress, she could identify at least one type of soda, ketchup, mustard, and little flakes of pepper.
Before she could tear the intern a new one, a few sharp knocks at the open conference room door announced the arrival of their afternoon appointment. Daisy did her best to wipe the disgusting concoction from her face, gathered every shredded piece of dignity she could, and greeted her new clients.
Her brain needed ten full seconds to process the situation.
Daisy was sweating and covered in something disgusting, wearing a wet white sundress that could undoubtedly be seen through to her pink polka-dotted bra.
And in the doorway to her conference room, watching her with concern, stood the man she had spent the last ten years fantasizing about.
Her life could not get any worse. Instinct urged her to run far, far away. But Connor Greene blocked the door out.
Connor Hale shoved Connor Greene through the door so he could squeeze by, and Connor Valentine brought up the rear.
“Oh shit, are we in the wrong room?” he asked, after one glimpse of Daisy.
As the three hockey players examined their surroundings, her brain came back online. She closed her gaping mouth and pasted on fake enthusiasm.
“Nope, this is the right place. You should sit wherever you’ll be the most comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Daisy crossed her arms over her chest, put her head down, and rushed for the exit.
“Jason. Finish cleaning. Then you can go home,” she called behind her as she raced out the door.
“My name is Jack,” he corrected her. Daisy didn’t care. She had more important things to worry about.
Once certain she was out of view, she broke into a sprint. Her gym bag lived in her car and contained a change of clothes.
She grabbed the black duffel bag and made a quick stop in her office to change.
Mirrors didn’t lie, but she wished they would.
Using paper towels, she wrung as much of the disgusting soda-condiments mixture from her hair as she could.
She wiped the sticky syrup from her face and eyebrows with a makeup wipe from her purse.
A complete meltdown was in her near future, but she had to get through the afternoon first. She could spiral later.
Her hair couldn’t be saved, so she swept it into a fluffy ponytail.
Then she rummaged through her bag and pulled on a pair of leggings that violated her workplace dress code.
It didn’t matter. Anything had to be better than a sheer dress.
She ripped the soaked fabric over her head and reached for the shirt in her gym bag. When she unfolded it, her heart sank.
She dropped the shirt and dug through her gym bag, hoping to find an alternative, but came up empty. With no other options, she gritted her teeth and pulled on the Seattle Freeze long-sleeve t-shirt. Of course it had to be the one with Connor Greene’s last name on the back. Why wouldn’t it be?
Daisy wanted to curl into a ball and hide under her desk, but she needed this job. Her life was not one of luxury, where she worked as a hobby. She was living paycheck-to-paycheck. Maybe she would die of embarrassment. That would solve a lot of her problems.
It had taken five minutes to straighten herself out, but the guilt at keeping the Connors waiting ate at her. She hustled to the conference room, trying to keep her head held high. If she ignored the elephant in the room, maybe it would go away.