There was a little vegetarian café down the block from the office, barely a hole in the wall, it was so tiny — just a counter and a couple of tables, and some tall stools by the window. Nothing fancy, but Nell could eat in peace for half an hour. The tomato and avocado sandwich was her favorite, but she also liked the cucumber and cream cheese one, and egg salad some days for variety.
Refreshed, and a little more tolerant of the circus that was her workplace, Nell returned as usual just before the one o’clock chimes. On her desk was a yellow Post-It note from Tommy — Assistant confirmed, will start ASAP. No other details were provided, so she’d just have to wait. But at least help was coming.
She sent off an email to Jessalyn Roberts, introducing herself as the new property supervisor and inquiring about paper supplies at Champagne Cascades since the folder had no recent inventory report. And then Lila transferred a call to her desk with the warning, “Incoming hot top, Nell.” A hot top was the interoffice term for an actively angry guest.
Nell spent the next forty-five minutes listening to an enraged woman who claimed that Brian at Winter Pine had been rude and disrespectful, and ended up offering her a voucher for a night at Secret Creek to make amends. Forty-five minutes she’d never get back. And while it was quite possibly true — Brian was, in general, a rude and disrespectful sort of person, though she believed he mostly held his attitude in check around the guests to keep his job — Nell also had the feeling that the woman was milking a probably mild incident to get freebies in compensation, so it galled her a bit to play into that game. And now she’d have to call Brian and find out what happened from his point of view.
About twenty-four hours later, Nell returned from lunch to find another of Tommy’s yellow Post-It notes on her desk: My office — 1:30 pm. Everyone else at Wildforest seemed able to use the interoffice calendar and messaging app to arrange meetings, but Tommy liked his Post-Its, or maybe he just liked that one couldn’t decline or reschedule them.
Feeling all the relaxation of her lunch break boiling away, Nell bent down to grab her favorite vanilla spice rooibos from the tin box where she stashed her tea in a bottom drawer. She usually waited until later in the afternoon, but today she’d need it to handle Tommy’s meeting calmly. He’d probably tell her that it would be weeks until a new assistant could be hired, or that she’d have to share Trina’s assistant — putting a strain on both of their files and probably their relationship. Then she became aware of some thumping noises and swearing from the photocopier room behind her. Plainly, someone was having trouble with the copier and not handling it particularly well.
Stifling a wry snicker, Nell decided to see if she could help, like some kind of photocopier superhero. All she needed was a cape. She whipped around the corner and into the copier room.
A man in beat-up jeans and a Queen t-shirt bent over the copier, prodding its innards unsuccessfully, and giving the base of the machine a desultory kick when it continued to beep and flash error messages. Tall enough. Toned arms with just the right amount of ink. Blond wavy hair. Oh, hell no.
The man stood up.
Their eyes met.
It was definitely, without a doubt, the pool player from the Frog and Ball — the man she’d left writhing on the floor of the women’s bathroom. And there was no question that he recognized her.
“What are you doing here?” Nell asked, before he could say anything.
He looked down at his hands, which were streaked with copier toner. “Tommy Baxter is my uncle. It seems I’m going to be working here for a bit. I’m, ah, not used to being in an office — do you know anything about these beasts?”
“Right,” said Nell. “Let me have a look at it.” She gave him a cold look and a jerk of her chin to let him know that he needed to move out of her space before she’d approach. Somewhat warily, he backed away to lean against the office supply cupboards. Stepping up to the copier, she turned the handle that would open the inner section of the machine, then rotated the wheel to move the jammed paper forward.
As she eased the crumpled and smudged paper out of the copier, the blond man moved closer, leaned down next to her ear and asked quietly, “What the hell was up with you putting me on the ground at the pub like that?” His unexpected nearness startled her, and she jumped back, only narrowly controlling her impulse to take down the threat. “Whoa!” he said, seeing her half-fisted hands and ready stance.
“You were in the women’s can, where you had no business being. You wouldn’t listen when I told you to back off. So yeah, I put you on the ground. And I’ll do it again if I have to.”
The man laughed, a sexy, throaty laugh. Flirty. “I would never have hurt you, gorgeous.”
Nell rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to, and I don’t care about your intentions. Stay out of the women’s bathroom here at work, and stay away from me at the Frog and Ball on Sundays.”
“All right.” The man’s chuckle told her he wasn’t taking her seriously.
She finished putting the photocopier back together. “There. The copier is fixed. Try not to break it again.”
“Thanks. What’s your name, ninja woman?”
“Nell.” She didn’t want to tell him, but he’d find out from Tommy soon enough. No point in creating a war over something minor.
“That’s pretty. I’m Eamonn.”
Nell shrugged. Damned if I’ll show him I like anything about him. She didn’t want
