Chapter 3
ROMAN
This is going to be fun, and I could use a bit of fun.
The woman standing in front of me will be the best part of this job. I can already tell. I don’t know why the universe favored me enough to put her in my path twice in twenty-four hours, but I won’t complain.
I barely got a glimpse of Aurora Marigold last night, because I was half asleep and in an admittedly unfortunate state. But I saw and heard enough to be intrigued, even amused. Seeing her again, and here of all places, might make this experience a bit less horrible than I expected.
Aurora shakes my hand when I offer it, her expression composed, her grip firm when she slides her hand briefly into mine. Then she steps back, nodding at me while ignoring Mindy and Barf—oops, Bart—completely. Her sleek ponytail flicks as she turns on her heels and sees herself out.
I watch her go with a barely concealed grin on my face. She’s beautiful, and she knows it; tall, curvy, with gorgeous hair and the kind of presence that undoubtedly intimidates some men.
Men like Bart, who stands cowering in front of me. It’s probably for the better that he chose Mindy. He wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Aurora Marigold. He wouldn’t know how to make her happy.
I’m not sure I know either, but I bet I could figure it out.
“You can see yourselves out,” I say, waving at Bart and Mindy before rounding the desk and returning to my seat. “Close the door after you.”
They do as I say, and I’m glad to see them go. I hope they’re good at their jobs. I don’t mind that they’re dating, but I’ll care if it affects their work. I’m not going to be here long; anything messy needs to wait until after I leave.
When the two of them have gone, I pull up the employee roster and look up Aurora’s file. She’s thirty years old—five years older than me. She’s been at the company for a good long while, and although I don’t have a complete account of her time here, she seems to be good at what she does.
I close out of the roster and lean back in my chair, kicking my feet up on the desk once more. Then I loosen my tie. I snort as I remember Aurora fixing Bart’s tie with gentle, nurturing hands—and the way she stood up straight, just enough to be taller than him?
I want to see more.
A sigh escapes me as I look around my temporary office, a hastily put-together room.
I didn’t feel comfortable working in my sister’s office, mostly because I don’t want to mess up the way she has things arranged.
I wouldn’t worry about it if she hadn’t just had a freaking baby, but she doesn’t need one more stressor on her plate.
So I set up in an empty room instead, with a cheap desk and a computer and a few file cabinets. It works for what I need.
My cell phone rings, and my body tenses, because I know who it is. When I pick it up and see my dad’s name, I’m tempted to set the phone right back down.
I don’t, because he’ll just call again and again until I pick up. Best to get it over quickly, so I answer.
“Hi,” I say, and I can’t quite help how dull my voice sounds.
“Roman,” my dad says in his typical stern, barking voice. “How is everything going over there?”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Fine,” I say. “Everything is fine.”
He must not like the casual tone of my words, because when he speaks, there’s even more censure. “I hope you’re taking this seriously,” he says.
“I’m hurt that you even have to ask,” I say lightly, forcing a grin.
“Roman.”
“Relax.” A hint of coolness enters my voice. “I’m taking everything seriously. Very serious over here.”
“It’s a shame Denice had to leave,” my dad mutters, more to himself than to me.
“She had a baby,” I say. “You’re a grandfather now.”
His answering grunt is maybe a smidge warmer and fonder than it would be otherwise, but I can still picture the exact way my father waves these words off, like having a baby is small potatoes—like it’s no excuse for abandoning your nine-to-five for a while.
His wrinkled, age-spotted hand is swatting my answer away like I’m a bug; his small eyes are irritated behind his thick glasses, and his lips are curled into a faint grimace.
He’s not that old, my father, but he looks it. Possibly from all those years of frowning and screwing up his face in disapproval.
“Anyway—how’s the environment?” he says now. “Environment is key to employee efficiency.”
Aurora Marigold pops into my mind. “It’s great.” But followed by Aurora is Bart, his face much less welcome in my thoughts. “Or mostly great, anyway.”
“Good,” my dad mutters. “Good. That’s good. Morale is up? Even though the boss has stepped out for a while?”
“Of course it is. Everyone is happy. They’re excited she had her baby. They seem to love her.”
He seems genuinely heartened by this. “Good,” he says again. Then his voice grows stern. “And by the way.”
My wince is preemptive, but only because I know what’s coming, and I know I deserve it.
“What happened last night can never happen again,” he says, just like I thought he would. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re not a teenager.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve been carrying around a hefty portion of regret and shame this morning, all because I was dumb last night.
I’m officially swearing off alcohol. It makes me stupid. I thought I wanted to celebrate my last night as a free man—and by free, I mean free from my dad’s plans—but I had too much to drink. The police picked me up after I stumbled into the road, like a complete idiot.
I used to try to blame my questionable alcohol choices on the alcohol itself, but that no longer flies in my mind. Because the thought is always there: Who drank the alcohol in the first place, you absolute moron?
Yeah. Me. It was me.
So I think the drinking needs to go. I don’t have space in my life for problems like that—not to mention the headaches.
The ibuprofen has done its commendable job by now, thank goodness.
“Dad,” I say, because my temples are starting to throb, and not from the hangover. “I’m going to get to work.” A quiet knock at the door times perfectly with ending the conversation, so I add, “Someone is here to see me.”
“Keep yourself sharp,” my dad barks. “Make me proud.”
I’ve never made him proud a day in my life, but I agree anyway. When I hang up, I drop the phone on the desk with relief.
The knock sounds at the door again, and I sit up. “Come in,” I say quickly.
The door opens just enough to reveal Shelly, my temporary secretary. She’s a birdlike woman, probably in her seventies, with large glasses and fluffy hair and kind eyes.
“Sorry to make you wait,” I say, gesturing to the phone. “Did you need something?”
“I’ve got a couple things I need you to sign,” she says apologetically. “And I’ve got an updated schedule now that you’ve arrived. Things run pretty smoothly around here, but I thought you might like to look.”
“I would,” I say. “Thank you. I’m a bit new to all this, so I appreciate the help.”
“Of course,” she says with a beaming smile. “Ask for anything you need.”
I nod absently as I take the folder she hands me, opening it and flipping through.
“So we have an event we’re preparing for,” I say.
“An in-person meetup of some kind? Denice left a few notes about that, and I sent out the assignments she listed, but give me more details so I know what’s going on, even if I won’t be here then. ”
Because I want to sound like I know what I’m talking about.
I’m little more than a babysitter for the next couple weeks.
It’s my dad’s company. I know how to sit at a desk and look professional and designate tasks, and thankfully Denice had things set up to make the transition simple, but the actual stand-in manager isn’t available yet.
“It’s to celebrate the launch of our local feature,” Shelly says, the words prompt.
“We’re growing decently well, so we’re adding a local feature to our service.
We won’t just work online; we’ll have an opt-in that allows for more localized matches as well as a network of businesses that we work with to provide meaningful dating experiences.
We’re joining hands with restaurants in the greater Boulder area, for example,” she goes on.
“And some entertainment venues, some recreational options—that kind of thing. We’ll provide deals and coupons.
I think it’ll be very good for the company, and I think our local users will appreciate it as well. ”
“I imagine so,” I agree, because it sounds like a solid idea to me. “What will the actual event be like?”
“In essence it will be a date auction. When we polled our users, that was what they showed the most interest in.”
Interesting. “Well, thanks, Shelly.” I look at her. “Is there anything you need from me?”
“I don’t think so,” she says, still smiling, “but I’ll let you know.”
“Please do.” So that I won’t have to ferret out thoughts and needs in someplace I’ve never been. “I want to make sure I don’t mess anything up while I’m being your placeholder boss.”
She waves a hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ll let you know if I come across any hitches. You just keep following Denice’s instructions and calendar and we’ll all be just fine.”
“Denice bossed me around all the time growing up,” I say with a grin. “I’m good at following her orders.”
And slipping the occasional frog in her bed, but Shelly doesn’t need to know that.
“In any case,” I say. “I’ll be working off-site for a day or two in Lucky, getting things together on that end. You think that will be fine?”
Because let’s be honest. Shelly knows more than I will ever know.
“That should be just fine,” she says with a nod.
Her expression sours ever so slightly. “You go keep those three in line. Bart is the office clown, a bit of a charmer, and I think he and Aurora were involved before he decided he wanted pieces of more than one pie, so to speak. We were all a little surprised when the two of them began seeing each other in the first place. Aurora’s not the emotional type, so I’m not sure how she took it. ”
“I have it on very good authority that she was not happy,” I say as I think back to the three sisters huddled on the bench of the holding cell. “Thanks for the intel, Shelly. Please let me know if there’s anything else you think I should be aware of while I’m here.”
“I will,” she says. “I’ll get back to work, then.”
I nod absently and pick up my Rubik’s cube—a childish, age-old habit that’s followed me to this day, because my mind works better when my hands have something to do.
I need my mind to work well for me now, starting with learning everything I can about Lucky, Colorado—and about my temporary subordinates.
So I pick up my phone and go to my favorites, tapping on the name at the top of the list. When my sister answers, I say, “Tell me about Aurora Marigold.”
“Aurora? She’s great,” Denice says. “Does a good job with her work, keeps her space tidy and orderly—she used to have an organization business, I think, or some sort of cleaning company maybe?”
Hmm. Interesting.
“But yes, she should be helpful for you while you’re there. Be nice to her, please.”
“I’m always nice.”
“And no flirting.”
To that, however, I only say one thing:
“No promises.”
Then, before Denice can get any more instructions or rules out, I hang up.