Rusty Nailed
Page 14
“Pleasure, please,” I answered naughtily, and Simon hissed.
“Hanging up on you now.” And he did just that.
I fell back into the pillows, flushed and giggly. The things that Wallbanger made me do.
• • •
Text from Simon to Caroline fifteen minutes later:
Someone’s in trouble when I get home.
Promise?
Woman, you give me ideas.
Do I, now?
Seriously though, all sexting aside, congratulations. I’m proud of you.
I’m proud of me too. Thanks.
Now then, what are you wearing?
Go chum the water, Wallbanger.
That’s what we’re calling it now?
Sigh. You remember the first time you texted me? From Ireland?
I do.
And you remember when I went across the hall and kicked your door?
There was a short pause. Then:
You just did, didn’t you?
Maybe.
Love you.
Love you more. Be careful with Jaws.
• • •
“You got a minute?” I asked, standing in Jillian’s doorway. I’d been trying to pin her down all week to make a final decision about the intern I wanted to bring on board, but she was booked solid with clients and last-minute wedding appointments.
“I’ve got my last dress fitting in twenty minutes; what’s up?” she asked, looking frazzled.
“Well, I’ve interviewed all the interns and narrowed it down to three that I think you’ll want to meet with, and one is actually—”
“You pick, Caroline. This is going to be mainly your intern, so you pick.” She smiled, turning off her computer and grabbing her jacket off the coatrack.
“Um, okay, I can do that, but—wait! Are you leaving now? I thought I had twenty minutes!”
“I have to be there in twenty minutes, which means with traffic, I’ll actually be late. Walk me out?” She gestured for me to follow her.
“Jillian, I need to talk to you about some stuff. There’s a few things that need to be taken care of before you—”
“Caroline. You’ve got this. I trust you. Hire the intern you think is best and I’ll sign off on it, okay?” she called out, walking past me and out into the hallway.
She’s getting married, she’s getting married, be happy, be happy, I chanted in my head.
“Okay, but we need to have a serious powwow about some things before you leave. I don’t know if—”
“Make a list of everything we need to go through, then e-mail it to me, okay? I’ll read it tonight and we’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning, I promise,” she replied, sailing down the stairs and out the front door, calling back over her shoulder, “And congratulations on your first intern!”
I smiled in spite of myself, watching her get into a waiting car. Hair perfectly done, killer heels, off to try on the wedding gown she was going to marry her Prince Charming in.
Spinning on my own slightly less expensive but still somewhat lethal heels, I caught the eye of our receptionist. “Hey, Ashley, can you call that last one, Monica, from Berkeley? Let her know she’s our new intern,” I said. One task down, I headed back to my office to tackle the next thousand.
chapter five
The next morning I was waiting in Jillian’s office when she arrived. As asked, I’d sent her my list of questions and tasks that needed her approval or input before the wedding. We had lots to discuss, but foremost was getting a better idea of when she was coming back.
“Wow, you’re here early,” she exclaimed, shrugging out of her coat and unwrapping her scarf.
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Hey, my boss is all over the map—she’s getting married this weekend, you know. Figured I better nab her while I could.”
She sighed, sinking down into her chair. “Have I been a bridezilla?”
“Nah, I’d characterize you more like the phantom boss,” I joked.
“Watch it, Reynolds; I’d hate to have to write up my maid of honor for insubordination,” she warned, a twinkle in her eye but enough steel to tell me I was pushing it. “So I read your list. It’s long.”
“It is. And I can handle practically everything on there. I just need to know what your plans are, and what your expectations are of me so I can manage things.”
“I know, kiddo; sorry I’ve been a little absent lately. Who knew weddings had so many arms and legs?” She grinned. “I can’t wait to watch when you go through all this. It’s a lot to have on your plate.” She picked up the list and grabbed a pen.
“When I go through this?” I asked, my breathing going a little, well, breathy.
“Sure. Don’t you think you and Simon are heading that way eventually?” she asked, putting on her glasses and positioning them so she could look down at me. Cheeky.
“Um, I don’t, well, I mean, how can I, Jillian!” I stuttered, blood rushing to my face at the thought. Picket fence territory.
“Whoa, strike a nerve there?” she asked, a twinkle growing in her eye. “Don’t you think Simon’s the marrying kind?”
“I don’t . . . I mean . . . he’s never had a relationship longer than the one he’s currently in, I don’t think we need to push the issue, and besides, it’s good the way it is now and—I don’t know that I, I mean, what if I don’t want—”
“Easy there, Trigger, settle down.” She grinned, pleased that she’d rattled me off course.
“Okay, this isn’t what we’re here to talk about this morning. We need to go through this list and put out some fires, and I need to know when you’re coming back from your honeymoon, woman!” Simon and me getting married. Pffft.
“Not sure,” she said calmly.
“Wait, what?”
“We’re not sure when we’re coming back. Wanna house-sit too?”
“House-sit too?” I asked, my eyes crossing.
She sighed, sitting back in her chair.
“The thing is, Caroline, I need a break. I love my job, you know how much this business means to me, and I’m so very proud that I’ve been able to carve out a niche for myself. But I need a break, and Benjamin and I just want to go wherever we feel like for a while. Does that make any sense?”
It made perfect sense. A gorgeous man and his gorgeous new bride, with all that money burning a hole in their bonds or funds or whatever really wealthy people had their money in. They wanted to see the world while they were young enough and sexy enough to do it right.
“Hanging up on you now.” And he did just that.
I fell back into the pillows, flushed and giggly. The things that Wallbanger made me do.
• • •
Text from Simon to Caroline fifteen minutes later:
Someone’s in trouble when I get home.
Promise?
Woman, you give me ideas.
Do I, now?
Seriously though, all sexting aside, congratulations. I’m proud of you.
I’m proud of me too. Thanks.
Now then, what are you wearing?
Go chum the water, Wallbanger.
That’s what we’re calling it now?
Sigh. You remember the first time you texted me? From Ireland?
I do.
And you remember when I went across the hall and kicked your door?
There was a short pause. Then:
You just did, didn’t you?
Maybe.
Love you.
Love you more. Be careful with Jaws.
• • •
“You got a minute?” I asked, standing in Jillian’s doorway. I’d been trying to pin her down all week to make a final decision about the intern I wanted to bring on board, but she was booked solid with clients and last-minute wedding appointments.
“I’ve got my last dress fitting in twenty minutes; what’s up?” she asked, looking frazzled.
“Well, I’ve interviewed all the interns and narrowed it down to three that I think you’ll want to meet with, and one is actually—”
“You pick, Caroline. This is going to be mainly your intern, so you pick.” She smiled, turning off her computer and grabbing her jacket off the coatrack.
“Um, okay, I can do that, but—wait! Are you leaving now? I thought I had twenty minutes!”
“I have to be there in twenty minutes, which means with traffic, I’ll actually be late. Walk me out?” She gestured for me to follow her.
“Jillian, I need to talk to you about some stuff. There’s a few things that need to be taken care of before you—”
“Caroline. You’ve got this. I trust you. Hire the intern you think is best and I’ll sign off on it, okay?” she called out, walking past me and out into the hallway.
She’s getting married, she’s getting married, be happy, be happy, I chanted in my head.
“Okay, but we need to have a serious powwow about some things before you leave. I don’t know if—”
“Make a list of everything we need to go through, then e-mail it to me, okay? I’ll read it tonight and we’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning, I promise,” she replied, sailing down the stairs and out the front door, calling back over her shoulder, “And congratulations on your first intern!”
I smiled in spite of myself, watching her get into a waiting car. Hair perfectly done, killer heels, off to try on the wedding gown she was going to marry her Prince Charming in.
Spinning on my own slightly less expensive but still somewhat lethal heels, I caught the eye of our receptionist. “Hey, Ashley, can you call that last one, Monica, from Berkeley? Let her know she’s our new intern,” I said. One task down, I headed back to my office to tackle the next thousand.
chapter five
The next morning I was waiting in Jillian’s office when she arrived. As asked, I’d sent her my list of questions and tasks that needed her approval or input before the wedding. We had lots to discuss, but foremost was getting a better idea of when she was coming back.
“Wow, you’re here early,” she exclaimed, shrugging out of her coat and unwrapping her scarf.
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Hey, my boss is all over the map—she’s getting married this weekend, you know. Figured I better nab her while I could.”
She sighed, sinking down into her chair. “Have I been a bridezilla?”
“Nah, I’d characterize you more like the phantom boss,” I joked.
“Watch it, Reynolds; I’d hate to have to write up my maid of honor for insubordination,” she warned, a twinkle in her eye but enough steel to tell me I was pushing it. “So I read your list. It’s long.”
“It is. And I can handle practically everything on there. I just need to know what your plans are, and what your expectations are of me so I can manage things.”
“I know, kiddo; sorry I’ve been a little absent lately. Who knew weddings had so many arms and legs?” She grinned. “I can’t wait to watch when you go through all this. It’s a lot to have on your plate.” She picked up the list and grabbed a pen.
“When I go through this?” I asked, my breathing going a little, well, breathy.
“Sure. Don’t you think you and Simon are heading that way eventually?” she asked, putting on her glasses and positioning them so she could look down at me. Cheeky.
“Um, I don’t, well, I mean, how can I, Jillian!” I stuttered, blood rushing to my face at the thought. Picket fence territory.
“Whoa, strike a nerve there?” she asked, a twinkle growing in her eye. “Don’t you think Simon’s the marrying kind?”
“I don’t . . . I mean . . . he’s never had a relationship longer than the one he’s currently in, I don’t think we need to push the issue, and besides, it’s good the way it is now and—I don’t know that I, I mean, what if I don’t want—”
“Easy there, Trigger, settle down.” She grinned, pleased that she’d rattled me off course.
“Okay, this isn’t what we’re here to talk about this morning. We need to go through this list and put out some fires, and I need to know when you’re coming back from your honeymoon, woman!” Simon and me getting married. Pffft.
“Not sure,” she said calmly.
“Wait, what?”
“We’re not sure when we’re coming back. Wanna house-sit too?”
“House-sit too?” I asked, my eyes crossing.
She sighed, sitting back in her chair.
“The thing is, Caroline, I need a break. I love my job, you know how much this business means to me, and I’m so very proud that I’ve been able to carve out a niche for myself. But I need a break, and Benjamin and I just want to go wherever we feel like for a while. Does that make any sense?”
It made perfect sense. A gorgeous man and his gorgeous new bride, with all that money burning a hole in their bonds or funds or whatever really wealthy people had their money in. They wanted to see the world while they were young enough and sexy enough to do it right.
