CHAPTER 9
Kenzie
“Good morning, Mr. Walker.” I greeted my new boss with much more optimism than I actually felt.
I moved to his desk and set a cup of coffee on it.
Black.
No cream.
No sugar.
Theo had been by while I was making coffee, and he told me how Dane liked it.
I couldn’t believe he was functioning without his caffeine. I was completely addicted, and the first thing I did every morning was suck down as much coffee as I could get.
Of course, maybe my coffee intake had something to do with being completely sleep deprived.
For the first time, I actually felt rested. I’d slept eight hours last night, waking up feeling like my head was clear.
“Thanks,” he answered, sounding distracted as he focused on his computer screen.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, sitting down in front of his desk with my own full mug, and a notebook in my hand.
I planned on making notes about what he wanted me to do, and get started on any work that he had outstanding.
“You can go,” he remarked absently.
Oh no, you don’t! You’re not just dismissing me for a second day!
“I wanted to get a list of instructions from you,” I said. “It would help if we could meet every morning.”
I arranged my cotton sundress around my legs. Since Dane didn’t seem to be much on formal attire, I’d dressed in a casual blue and white sundress with floppy sandals. I didn’t have a ton of clothes, and I generally dressed casual except when I’d been at the gallery. I’d worn one of the two professional outfits I had yesterday.
Finally, he looked up from his computer and handed me an envelope. “Here,” he said in a grumpy tone.
I took it, hoping it was a list of the things he wanted. It would be so much easier for me to know what he expected.
“What’s this?” I questioned as I drew out the contents of the envelope.
“A check,” he answered in a brusque tone.
“For what? I haven’t done anything yet.”
“It’s an advance on your salary. No woman should be without some cash.”
I looked at the check, then at him, but he’d already turned back to his computer screen. He’d given me the equivalent of a few months of pay, and it touched me that he’d even thought about the fact that I had no money.
I was torn between gratitude and shame.
“But your brothers hired me,” I informed him gently.
“You’re mine now,” he answered huskily.
I let his words sink into my consciousness. For some reason they made me feel warm and safe. It didn’t matter if Dane had only meant that I was going to work for him directly. I still savored the words of belonging somewhere. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced much in my life.
“Thank you,” I said gently. “That’s really kind.”
“Believe me, I’m rarely kind,” he answered in a guttural voice.
I ignored his self-deprecation. He’d been nice to me, so I didn’t believe for a minute that the man didn’t have a decent heart. It might be well hidden, but it was there.
“Maybe Theo could take me to Nassau some time,” I said hesitantly, not knowing how Dane felt about me leaving the island. “I could use some clothes.”
Everything I had was thrift store bargain bin. I was good at making something out of nothing.
“I’ll cover your clothes,” he offered as he kept tapping away at the computer. “It’s not like you asked to be stuck in a tropical environment.”
“No. I’m fine,” I sputtered, surprised that he’d made such a generous offer. He hadn’t wanted me here, and now he was offering to cover everything from my cash poorness to my wardrobe.
“It’s no big deal.”
Yeah. Actually, it was a big deal to me. Other than Paige, nobody had ever offered to do anything nice for me in years.
“The check is fine. I’ll work hard to earn it,” I told him, and meant every word I said.
It was obvious that Dane had decided to give me a chance, and I wasn’t about to take that trial for granted.
“I think you should take some time off,” he suggested. “Sleep. Eat. You look tired and you’re way too skinny. You’re in the perfect environment to relax a little.”
“I’m here to work,” I protested. “If you tell me my working hours, I can relax on my time off. Tell me what I’m allowed to do. Can I use your pool?”
He shrugged. “Of course. Your work hours can be from ten a.m. to noon.”
I laughed, hoping he was joking. “I was thinking more like nine-to-five.”
“Nine-to-two,” he said emphatically.
“Dane, that’s—”
“If you keep talking, I’ll fire you.” He finally looked up from his screen to shoot me a warning glance. “I work during the morning and early afternoon. I usually work on my accounts early. I taught myself to be an actuary, figuring out the risk and benefits of investments. Then I work on investing into the ventures that I like. After that, I catch the late morning and afternoon light to paint in my studio. I don’t work late. I take off to the beach to surf or dive.”
“Can I use your studio after hours?” I asked breathlessly.
“You paint?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m not very good, but it’s a passionate hobby.”
“How do you know your work isn’t good? It’s good if you feel better after you release your emotions on canvas. There is no right or wrong way to express yourself.”
“Says the guy who gets more than a million per piece,” I answered with a smile. “Not that you don’t earn it. I’ve admired your stuff for several years.”
“I was trained by some of the best,” he said nonchalantly. “I couldn’t attend college, but I brought the artists that I admired the most here to the island to study under them. We all start somewhere. It’s a never-ending progression. As artists, we never feel like we’re skilled enough, which is why we keep trying.”
I felt good that he’d included me in the artist crowd, even though I wasn’t talented enough to deserve it. “My first love is actually making pottery. I do paint and sketch, but I’d much rather be making something useful.”
“Then keep on doing it,” he suggested, his dark eyes softening as he encouraged me.
“It’s not that simple. Equipment costs money. But I’ll go back to it someday.”
“I’m sure you will,” he concurred.
Flustered, I turned my attention back to my notebook. “So tell me what duties I can take off your shoulders.”
“Honestly, I’m not that busy,” he said reluctantly.
“Then why am I here?” I was confused.
“I skipped going to Denver for the holidays last year. I told my brothers it was because I was so busy,” he said.
“But you really aren’t?” I questioned, starting to understand why there was so much miscommunication between the brothers.
Dane had things he didn’t share with his siblings.
“I have a lot of pieces that I want to complete, but I’m not really pressed for time. I don’t do commissioned pieces. I give the stuff I’m satisfied with to galleries when I finish them.”
“I know. The galleries hate that,” I verified with a smile.
Nobody knew when they were going to get a Dane Walker painting, and it had driven my boss crazy.
“Fuck them,” he said. “I don’t send my work out for money. Did you contact your old boss yet?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “But it will be the first thing on the list.” I sat my coffee down on his desk and wrote the item down, then looked at Dane again. “What else?”
“You could do the communication between me and the galleries I work with. Contact your friend, and let her know she can take Maxfield’s place. I’m sure they’d appreciate a much nicer voice than mine,” he considered.
“Okay,” I said happily.
He caught me up on the pieces he was currently wanting to put on exhibition, and I took copious notes. Then he talked about what he planned on doing in the future, and I took more notes.
When we finished, I finally asked, “Why did you lie to your family?”
He was silent, glaring at me from his seat behind the desk. “You’re getting a little too personal,” he warned.
“That’s why I’m your personal assistant,” I said with humor in my tone.
“I’m not always going to tell you what I’m thinking. I’m not used to spilling my guts, except when I’m painting,” he informed me with a pained note in his voice.
“I’m not asking you to do that. But if I’m really going to be an asset to you, I do need to understand some things.”
He was quiet for moment, appearing to consider my words. After a tense silence, he said, “I didn’t feel like going. Trace and Sebastian are hooked up and happy now. Nobody needs me to ruin the party.”
God, Dane sounded so much like me. I felt exactly the same way about inflicting my presence on anybody who was happy.
“They wanted you there,” I protested. “Paige was looking forward to meeting you.”
“Some other time,” he mumbled.
“I thought you liked Eva,” I said.
“I do,” he reassured me. “It’s just…awkward.”
“Because they’re a couple now?” I understood what he was saying. It was uncomfortable when everybody around you is with somebody and you aren’t. I’d been there myself.
“I don’t know,” he answered tersely. “I just didn’t feel like going.”
He’d obviously had a serious case of the holiday blues, or maybe the constant isolation was just getting to him. “I get it. I really do,” I commiserated.
I moved back to my objective, feeling him out about duties I could take over. Even though he wasn’t overwhelmed, he could definitely use a personal assistant, and I was determined to be the best I could be at making his life easier.
“Thanks,” I told him as I finally rose from the chair. “I’ll start with this.” I looked down at my notes, knowing I’d have enough to keep me busy for the rest of the day.
I walked toward the door, then turned back to him again. “Where am I working?”
He pointed toward a door on the other side of his office. “There’s a small office connected. I was pretty sure I’d never use it, but I had the builders include it anyway.”
The door was hidden behind a massive plant, and I didn’t see it until I moved beyond his desk. I rearranged the overgrown greens, and then pushed the door open. “Oh, my,” I muttered in a gut reaction to the room.
Dane’s office was very masculine, and this space was feminine in comparison. It was light and bright, and the doors leading outside gave me a stunning view of the beach.
“It will work, right?” he grunted from behind me.
I glanced at the white desk and chair, thinking that it was probably the most calming atmosphere I’d ever had the privilege of working in.
The office was obviously an add-on in case he married, so I had hope that he wasn’t completely cynical. The space was definitely built with a possible woman in mind.
“Who did the painting?” I croaked, mesmerized by the seascape that took up a large portion of one wall.
“Me.” Dane had risen from his chair and was right behind me.
The powerful watercolor was nothing like Dane’s usual work.
He didn’t do watercolors.
And he definitely didn’t do whimsical.
But the piece was both of those and more.
I stared at it, still entranced by the powerful, mesmerizing image. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured, knowing the words weren’t nearly enough.
“Not one of my best,” he rumbled. “But I was in the mood to do something different.”
“It worked,” I answered in a hoarse whisper. “It definitely worked.”
“Glad you like it. Have a good day. I’m going out to my studio soon.”
“Okay,” I agreed distractedly, still staring at the piece on the wall. “I’ll get to work.”
The door closed quietly behind me, signaling Dane’s exit. I had to force myself to sit down at my desk and quit gawking at the unusual work on the wall.
Granted, the watercolor wasn’t Dane’s signature work. He did powerful oil abstracts that generally got a gut reaction from the viewer. The watercolor was subtle, but no less beautiful in a completely different way.
It was no less powerful than his abstracts. The dark, powerful painting hit me right in the gut.
I glanced at my notes, trying to get myself back on track. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I got up and rearranged the desk until all I had to do was turn my head to look at Dane’s painting.
Satisfied, I picked up the phone to call my ex-boss and let him know he’d never receive another painting from Dane.
It was the most gratifying and empowering phone call I’d ever made.