Pushing through my office door, purse in one hand and a box of files balanced in the other, I use my ass to open the door, which isn’t easy in a pencil skirt. My heels click as I hustle my ass into my office. Fucking King, making me late.
“Good morning, Miss Samantha.”
“Mornin’.” I smile at Tina, the receptionist, as I make my way toward my office door.
“You need help?” she calls out, getting up from her seat. The woman is paper thin, shaky and unsure. She couldn’t help me carry a paper sack, let alone a twenty pound box of files.
“I’m good, but thanks.”
I juggle my way down the hall, trying not to drop anything.
Practically falling through my door, I drop the box a few feet into the entryway and toss my purse down with it, the contents spilling out everywhere. “Fuck,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
I scoop up the contents of my purse and shove it all back inside. “Tina?” I holler, head out the door, bent down on the floor. “Could you please get me a coffee?” I need it. Desperately.
“Of course,” she answers, and is immediately out of her seat again, scurrying down the hall.
Leaving my messy boxes on the floor, I put my ass in my seat and stare at the mess on my desk. Papers. Post-its. An old coffee mug. File folders. Hell, there’s just shit everywhere.
I don’t know how long I stare at my mess, but it’s long enough for Tina to bring me a cup of coffee. “Do you need anything else?” she asks, lingering at my desk. She’s a fabulous receptionist, but she’s weird as hell in all social situations—shifty and jittery. You know, the type of people who are sweet and smart, but uncomfortably odd around other humans. That’s Tina.
“I’m solid,” I tell her, sipping my coffee, enjoying the rich brew. “Great coffee, Tina. Thank you.”
She nods and scuttles off, shutting my door on her way out.
Coffee in hand, I dig in, cleaning up my mess and getting to work.
A few hours later my door flies open, the handle hitting the wall. “You ready, bitch?” Lilly interrupts, standing in my doorway, a smile on her face, practically scaring the shit out of me.
“Jesus!” I jerk, almost knocking over my second cup of coffee. “You could knock.”
“I could, but I didn’t.”
“No shit,” I mutter, closing out the window I was working on of a new listing a few miles away. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”
She laughs, looking around my office, head shaking. “Thank God for winter break.”
“Lucky you.” The bitch has it easy. A teacher with a cake schedule. I’m jealous. “Some of us have to work all year.”
She rolls her eyes, waving her hand around dismissively. “Bitch, you work whenever and wherever you want.”
“I’m hungry,” I state, not answering her or bothering to argue with my crazy cousin.
She laughs. “Then let’s go, working girl.”
Grabbing my purse, I shake my head. “That makes me sound like a prostitute.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with your old man.”
She just keeps laughing as I follow her out the door and into the elevator. The bitch is nuts.
Lunch with Lilly and Ellison is like being kidnapped and added to the circus’ lineup. The two together are too much. Loud laughter and too much booze, and it’s only noon.
“So, where’s King?”
Shrugging my shoulder, I look around half-expecting to see him standing outside across the street, watching me. “I’m not sure.”
“So, you’re alone?”
That’s funny. “Hell no. There’s a prospect out there somewhere.”
Ellison seems surprised by that and looks around. “Really? I didn’t see him.”
“He’s somewhere out there.”
We order tacos, nachos, and quesadillas, but we’re here for the margaritas and salsa; the food is just a bonus. The waitress brings us piping hot plates of goodness and our second round of drinks.
We eat. We bitch. We talk. I don’t see Lilly and the girls as often as I’d like, but we get together every few months, and every time there’s a week’s worth of shit to catch up on.
“I have to get back to work. I’m showing a house later.”
“Anything good?”
“Are you plannin’ to buy it?” I ask Lil, quirking a brow.
She chuckles. “Nope.”
“Too bad. We could use some more girls around here,” I tell her, finishing my lunchtime margarita.
“If Tank ever left Washington, I’d die of shock.”
“We all would.”
Walking back through the office doors, Tina smiles at me from her desk. “Nice lunch?”
“Tacos.” I smile, handing her the to-go order I snagged for her on the way out. “Your favorite.”
Tina sighs, inhaling into the bag. “Thanks, Samantha. Mr. Lewis wasn’t keen on me takin’ lunch, being in there with his afternoon delight.”
I roll my eyes, grossed out by the image. “Sherry?”
“Yep.” The bleach blonde desperate housewife of some city council member he sold the mansion to a few weeks ago. Mr. Lewis, the opportunist. It wasn’t too long ago my dad was setting him straight when he tried to crawl under my skirt when I was a new hire. Sick pervert.
“Any calls for me?” I inquire, flipping through the mail on the front counter.
“No, but a man in a suit stopped by and had flowers for you. I let him put them in your office.” She says it so casually, but the moment the words leave her mouth, my head starts to spin and a panic starts to build.
“O–Oh,” I stutter, turning on my heels and staggering toward my office door. “Thanks, Tina.”
“You okay?”
I nod, pushing my door open. Spots dance in my vision, floating across the red roses sitting on my desk.
Making it through my door, I sit down slowly, sucking in deep breaths.
He was here. In my office. I was here only an hour ago.
Pulling out my phone, I call King.
It rings twice.
“King?”