Читать книгу An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love - Kimberly Van Meter - Страница 11

“IT’S JUST temporary,” Dean said to Brandon’s sullen, accusatory glare from across the dinner table. “Your uncle Sammy seems to think we need a little help around the office. And Annabelle is a friend of Dana’s so it seemed like a good deal for both of us.”

“We don’t need anyone messing around with the office,” Brandon said. “She’ll screw up Mom’s system. Besides, what happened to the temp service you were using?”

“The temps weren’t working out as we’d hoped. There was too much turnover. Besides, there wasn’t one I felt was a good enough fit. As much as I hate to admit it, we’re in bad shape. And we can’t afford to lose any more business. But don’t worry, she’s not going to change anything. And, if things don’t work out, we don’t have an obligation to keep her. I made that clear.”

Dean pushed away from his plate, his appetite disappearing at the direction of the conversation. He drew a deep breath. “Like I said, it’s temporary and there’s nothing wrong with helping a person who’s down on their luck. Your mom would’ve wanted us to lend a hand. You know she would.”

Brandon softened imperceptibly at the mention of Beth, but Dean could still see the storm raging behind his son’s eyes. “I don’t want her there,” he said. “It feels wrong seeing her sit in Mom’s chair. Doing Mom’s job. It’s just not right.”

“You didn’t have a problem with the temps.”

“She’s different. The temps were usually old ladies looking for a supplement to their retirement. This woman is no old lady.”

Dean leveled his gaze at Brandon and hoped his son never found cause to doubt his word as he said, “No one is going to replace your mother. Ever. She’s always here in our hearts and no one can ever take that away. But, as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, the office is falling apart. We lost two bids last week to Eagle Construction, and as far as I can tell Aaron’s hot on the trail of any unsecured contract. We can’t keep taking hits like this for much longer if we want to stay in business.”

A long pause sat between them until Brandon relented with a slow nod of his head. His boy was headstrong but not stupid. “So, you’re saying she’s only staying until we get things organized, right?” Brandon asked.

“Well, that’s the plan,” Dean answered with complete conviction, but Brandon still seemed troubled. “What?” he asked, wanting to do whatever he could to allay his son’s fears.

Brandon shifted in his chair, plainly uncomfortable with whatever else was rattling around his head. “She’s pretty,” he finally blurted, but the way he said it didn’t make that sound like a good thing and Dean knew what his son was afraid of.

“She’s attractive,” Dean acknowledged, shutting out the image of Annabelle as she’d been dressed the other day. All legs and breasts. “But I’m not looking, if you know what I mean.”

Brandon sighed with obvious relief and he grinned for the first time since the evening began. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that. I got a little freaked out when I saw her. A lot of guys would think she’s hot or something, but I should’ve known you’re too old for her anyway.”

Dean forced a chuckle, trying not to let his son’s innocent statement sting. Hadn’t he told himself the very same thing? “Glad we got that out of the way,” he said a bit wryly, signaling the end of the conversation.

Brandon smiled. “Me, too. I guess she can stay until you can find something else for her. You’re right. Mom would’ve wanted us to help if we could. She was always looking out for everyone but herself.”

Dean nodded and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat that never failed to choke him when he thought of Beth. God, he missed her. It didn’t seem fair that she’d been taken from them so young, but since it never brought her back, he’d long ago stopped railing against the injustice of God’s plan.

Some things just weren’t fair and that was that.

His thoughts wandered to Annabelle and what little he knew of her. Sammy had implied that life hadn’t been particularly fair to her, either, but she didn’t seem the type to cry about it. He had to admit he admired that in a person. Anyone could sit and bawl. It took guts and a strong character to pull themselves up and move when all they wanted to do was quit.

Where was Honey’s father? Was he in the picture at all? Sighing, he realized it wasn’t his place to wonder such things. No good was going to come from him poking his nose into Annabelle’s business, especially after promising his son that she wouldn’t be around long.

ANNABELLE ARRIVED on time the following morning, earning a curt nod of approval from Dean as she entered the office. He also didn’t hide his relief that Honey was not with her. She withheld a sigh for his obvious dislike of her baby and tried not to take it personally. It was his loss. Honey was an amazing kid.

Dean gestured toward a ridiculously small desk and she looked at him quizzically. “That’s where I’m supposed to sit? Which sixth-grade classroom is missing a desk?”

“I know it’s on the small side, but I wanted you to have a space to work from while we get things figured out. It’s all I could find on such short notice.”

“What’s wrong with that desk?” she pointed at the large and still cluttered desk he was behind.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not.”

She inhaled a short yet frustrated breath. “Listen, this is a little crazy. You can’t possibly expect me to sit at that baby desk when there’s a perfectly good, adult-size desk right here.”

“My wife used to sit there,” he said bluntly.

She tried to tread carefully, but his odd territorial stance on the furniture was wearing on her patience. If she’d had anything else to go to, she’d ditch this job in a second. But she didn’t and therefore was stuck with the need to make a go of it. With as much delicacy as her annoyance would allow, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Dana told me your wife died. But I can’t really do the job you’ve hired me to do without a proper place to sit. I promise I won’t change anything. I won’t move pictures around or kill her plants—although, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself—and I’ll even do my damnedest to learn your kooky system, but you have to loosen up, too.”

He stared and she held her breath, knowing the next words out of his stern mouth were going to be something along the lines of Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, and resigned herself to another serious job hunt.

But he didn’t.

“You’ve got a point,” he slowly agreed, though it looked like the admission was painful. “All right, I’ll haul that kiddie desk out of here.”

“Thank you,” she said, thinking privately it seemed an odd thing to be grateful for, but she accepted the victory just the same. “Now, show me how to run this office.”

An hour later, Annabelle had a headache.

“But why don’t you just file the jobs alphabetically?” she asked, not quite understanding the inefficient way they were doing things. “This number system is bound to screw things up. No wonder you’re losing stuff. Look here, this job and this job—” she gestured to two different slips of paper “—have the same number but they’re different contracts. If you used an alphabetical system by company or client name you’d have less slipping through the cracks.”

“Beth devised this number system and it worked before so it’ll work again. Now, instead of fighting me on it, just listen and learn.”

Annabelle bristled. It wasn’t in her nature to allow someone to talk to her as though she was an idiot. And it didn’t matter that Dean was the kind of man who could make her look twice on a crowded street—he was seriously pissing her off with his dogged refusal to see what was plain in front of his face.

“I’m sure this system worked peachy for the woman who conjured it out of her head but for us mere mortals, it’s a bit confusing. Even you can’t seem to figure it out.”

Dean’s face flushed a dull red and she knew she’d crossed the line. Damn it all to hell. But even as Annabelle prepared for the roar of indignation she was sure was heading her way, he seemed to choke down whatever had been dancing on his tongue and uttered a grunt of some sort that may have been an agreement.

But he didn’t look happy about it. “Well, she made it look easy. And all the files are numbered in this way. To start over would take an inordinate amount of time that I don’t have.”

At this Annabelle brightened. Finally something she could work with. “No problem. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll get this system turned around so that anyone coming in after me could easily figure it out, and you can concentrate on getting the jobs.”

He shifted uneasily, but there was a glimmer of interest in his brown eyes that Annabelle had to admit made her insides flip-flop oddly. “You think you could do that?”

She smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I couldn’t deliver. I’ve worked in an office before and I have an eye for efficiency. I guess you could call it my gift.”

He grunted, but she couldn’t tell if it was a noise that qualified as approval or disapproval and so she said, “You know, if we’re going to work together we need a better communication style.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the grunting has to stop. I know guys have their own language, but for the purposes of ensuring that I don’t misunderstand you, let’s try for a mutually agreed-upon language. Like English.”

Dean scowled, but Annabelle wasn’t deterred or intimidated. She’d been around men more coarse and meaner than Dean Halvorsen could ever manage to be, and she wasn’t going to back down. Besides, her mom had always said, men needed to be reminded every now and again of the rules, otherwise they ran amuck. Much like dogs.

Although, now that she thought about it, her mom might not have been the best for advice about men—she never seemed to be able to hold on to one or find one worth keeping.

She sighed privately, pushing that particular thought as far away as she could manage, and returned her attention to Dean.

“So, what’s it going to be?”

He sighed with annoyance but answered quite clearly, “Fine. Can we get back to work?”

“Absolutely.” She graced him with a wide smile that wasn’t the least bit coy or suggestive but suddenly he seemed caught, and when he tore his gaze away from hers, she wondered whether she was imagining things or Dean might actually find her attractive.

Did she want that? Good God, no. But…a lonely voice protested softly, Dean was one of the good guys. She could feel it in her bones. Her intuition was usually spot-on—having had to dodge creeps and toads on a regular basis growing up—but she’d let her guard down and Thad had somehow gotten past her defenses. She thought of Honey and she couldn’t regret her choice in that regard, but she’d be a liar if she didn’t say that she wished she’d found a decent man to father her child.

But messing around with the boss was a giant no-no.

“I see you found a babysitter.”

Dean’s voice broke into her thoughts, a welcome distraction. She nodded. “Dana is watching her for me on the days that she isn’t working.”

“You and Dana grew up together, right?”

“Yeah,” she answered, moving away from Dean and grabbing a handful of files. She wasn’t in the mood to share her dismal upbringing. Besides, he probably already knew all the highlights. No sense in sharing the lowlights as well. “Well, I’d better get started redoing this system or else it’ll take all day.”

DEAN MOVED to one side of the office and tried to ignore the way Annabelle’s skirt swished around her legs as she went about her business, filing and lightly humming as she went. There was something earthy and comforting about her confidence, in spite of her wardrobe choices. It wasn’t her skirt that was the problem, he thought, averting his eyes, searching for anything that might be more appropriate than what kept drawing his gaze.

Autumn was in the air but it was still warm enough to cause beads of sweat to coat his brow if he stood in the direct sunlight, which was probably why she had chosen the strappy number clinging to her breasts like a second skin, molding to the firm, plump flesh as if it were painted on, but it was damn distracting and not exactly professional, he groused. Jamming his baseball cap on his head—intent on getting out of there to meet a client at the job site—it took a moment for him to realize that his groin was reacting in a most inappropriate manner, reminding him painfully that he was a man with needs he’d been ignoring for far too long. He’d been sure after Beth’s death that that part of him was pretty much down for the count, too. Apparently, that was not the case.

Shame at his bodily reaction caused him to inhale sharply, and guilt for thinking of another woman in a sexual manner made him feel that he was no better than Aaron Eagle.

Echoes of Brandon’s concerns floated into his panicked brain and he spun on his heel toward the door, only to slam his shin into the leg of a chair.

She turned at the sound to ask, “You okay?” Her eyebrows arched in concern, causing the tiniest wrinkles to mar her otherwise perfect face.

“Fine,” he answered, biting back the swear words he wanted to yell because his shin was throbbing in time with the blood rushing to his cheeks…and other places. He managed to say, “I’ll be back later,” and then slammed out the door.

ANNABELLE STARED after Dean as he walked—no, limped—stiffly from the office, and she shook her head. Men. Would she ever understand them?

Probably not. Annabelle shrugged her shoulders, and said, “I don’t think that man likes me.” Then she turned to the file cabinet and focused on finishing her filing.