I didn’t say a word—I just turned around and marched away, determined to put this whole day behind me.

“Woah, whoa, whoa, where are you going?” said the man who I recognized as the sexy stranger from the ice cream shop. He attempted to keep up with me, so I willed myself to walk faster. It didn’t work. I was already spent from walking up the first two hills and my muscles were screaming in protest.

“Home.” I struggled to get just that one word since I was almost panting in exhaustion.

“So you’re just going to leave?”

“Yep,” I said, trying to maintain my dignity as I stumbled over a rock and barely stayed upright.

“Is walking new for you?”

I shot him a glare. “Is being a decent human being new for you?”

“Ouch,” he said, attempting to look injured, but failing miserably.

I ignored him and continued marching away. He tried to keep up with me and I walked faster. I knew I was huffing and puffing, and I felt even more humiliated because I was apparently really out of shape.

“Hmmm.... maybe you should slow down,” he said easily, not at all winded.

“You—can’t tell—me—what—to—do,” I said between breaths. Apparently, I couldn’t walk quickly and talk at the same time. My heart was beating fast and I could feel sweat collecting across my forehead. With frustration, I wiped at it.

“You need a handkerchief?”

“No—I—need—you—to—just—leave—me—alone!” I managed to yell, again having to pause between words, which served to make my plea to be left alone even weaker.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Do you have some sort of health condition?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, stopping and turning in his direction. I planted my hands on my hips and tilted my head to glare up at him. Being just five feet tall wasn’t helping me feel in control of the situation, especially since I struggled to control my own breathing. Honestly, I hadn’t stopped to confront him because I was offended by his words, I just thought I was going to pass out if I didn’t stop walking.

“Jude, I gave you one task and you managed to completely make a mess of things,” came a voice from in front of us.

I turned in the direction of the voice and couldn’t help but smile. In front of me was an older man with a big bushy white mustache and a bald head. He was wearing brief shorts and pumping his legs back and forth. I guess he had just got back from exercising. He was shirtless and his chest sort of caved inwards. He looked like a baby bird. And when he smiled, I saw that he had a large gap in between his two front teeth.

“Dad, I said I would take care of it and I was,” the guy from the ice cream shop said with annoyance.

“Well, apparently you aren’t taking care of it, because she’s obviously walking in the opposite direction of the house.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m leaving,” I said turning away from them both and continuing my way to the entrance. Pete saw me and gave a hesitant wave in greeting, before seeing who accompanied me.

“Uh oh,” I saw him mouth.

The shirtless older man stepped in front of me, blocking me from leaving. He gave me an apologetic smile, saying, “You must be Ms. Cabot. I’m sorry for my son’s behavior. He doesn’t know how to talk to women, that’s why he’s currently single.”

Ice cream shop guy responded, “Excuse my father. He, unfortunately, has no excuse for himself. I wish I could call him senile, but that would be giving him too much credit.”

There was no humor in his voice and the tension between the two of them instantly made me wish I had never stepped out of the taxi.

“Well, umm... I hope you guys figure everything out...” I said, gesturing for Pete to open the gate.

The older Mr. Foster immediately looked contrite, “I’m sorry, Ms. Cabot. I’m Oliver. Oliver Foster. And you’ve already met my son, Jude. I hope not by reputation—”

“Nice, Dad. Contrary to popular belief I’ve only slept with a quarter of the women in this state, not all of them,” Jude said sarcastically, folding his arms across his body.

I got the feeling their argument was less about me and more about something I had no involvement in.

I looked from father to son and said to Oliver, “So you’re my prospective client? Not Jude?”

Oliver nodded, “Jude was supposed to meet up with you and escort you to the house. Apparently, that task was much too hard.”

“If you cared so much about what I could do right, you could have met up with Ms. Cabot on your own.”

“Apparently...”

Now I was feeling like a third wheel and I saw that Pete had the gate open. “Well, gentleman, it’s been a blast. I hope you guys settle whatever this all is,” I said, gesturing between the two of them.

Oliver stopped me, saying, “We’re sorry, Ms. Cabot. I’m afraid our manners are lacking. Please stay.”

I looked at Jude who seemed to want to be anywhere else but in the presence of his father. Then what was he doing here?

“Not to be too personal, but do both of you live here? Would I be working as a personal assistant for the both of you?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not the old, senile one,” Jude said with a dry laugh.

Oliver’s expression became tight. “Trust me, my dear, I wouldn’t subject you to that type of torture. You were hired as my assistant. Jude can fend for himself.”

Jude gave a harsh laugh. “You got that right.”

I glanced again at Oliver. Despite his obvious contempt towards his son, I didn’t think he seemed too bad. I figured if I were related to Jude, I would hate him too. My mind made up, I said, “Well if that’s the case, I guess we can give this a shot.”

Oliver grinned and folded his hands in as if praying and bowed to me. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Cabot.”

“Please, just call me Lacey.”

He took my hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. “A pleasure to meet you, Lacey.”

Half an hour later, I found myself seated across from Jude. I tried to avoid looking directly at him even though it was nearly impossible. The stupid look on his face made me want to roll my eyes in annoyance. The look was a cross between a smirk and gloating. And more bothersome was that I still found him just as sexy now as when I first encountered him in the ice cream shop. I was so annoyed with myself.

“I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Ms. Cabot,” Oliver said, as a butler appeared from nowhere and began to serve lunch. We were sitting in the expansive dining room and I was still trying to get over how much I was surrounded by wealth. The house was easily 10,000 square feet and the most endearing room in my mind was the library. He had taken me on a tour of the main house while lunch was prepared and it had been overwhelming.

“I definitely enjoy meat. I’m a huge carnivore.”

“I can believe that.”

I ignored Jude’s comment, refusing to acknowledge the innuendo paired with his not so innocent look.

I cleared my throat and pointedly turned my attention to the senior Foster. “If you don’t mind me asking, what type of business are you in, sir?”

“Please call me, Oliver,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “And my business entails a lot of things.”

“Our family earned its money the old-fashioned way. Inherited.”

Mr. Oliver chuckled at Jude’s interjection. “He’s right. My great-grandfather made a few excellent investments and since then not a member of this family has actually had to work for a living since.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t be too impressed. Jude here knows how to spend money faster than the Treasury can print it.”

“I do my best.”

“Don’t we know it.”

The tension between the two of them made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I needed this job and Jude wouldn’t always be around, at least, I hoped he wouldn’t.

“But enough about us, let’s talk about you, Lacey. I love your name by the way. It’s very lady-like. It truly fits you. Women nowadays can be so gauche, but you, you’re so classy.”

Jude shot me a grin that clearly told me he was thinking of our encounter in the restaurant the other day or earlier when I was picking my underwear out of my butt. I narrowed my eyes at him and thanked his father for the compliment, although I felt it was borderline sexist.

“I have my moments,” I said with a shrug.

“So where are you from, Lacey? And why aren’t you gainfully employed?” Jude asked as he cut into his steak and took a huge bite. I secretly hoped he would choke on it. But of course, he didn’t.

I’m sure I was glowering as I went to answer his rude question, but Oliver cut in, “Excuse my son. He was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Jude?”

“Nope. I think I can spare a minute or two.”

They silently stared at each other, waiting for the other to back down when Oliver sighed and said, “Must you drive me insane all the time?”

“It’s what I live for, father dear.” Jude’s tone dripped with veiled hostility and sarcasm. I rethought my earlier feelings. They didn’t just dislike each other. They hated each other.

I felt uncomfortable so I began to speak, hoping that would detract from the tension. “What would you like to know about me, Oliver? I’m a pretty open book. I’m assuming Kadija sent you my resume.”

“Oh yes, but a resume can only tell you so much about a person.”

I nodded, “Well, to answer your earlier question, Jude, I’m from a small town outside of Georgia.”

“Really? You don’t have a discernible Southern accent.”

I shrugged, not daring to mention that my accent had been the bane of my college existence when I went to school up north, surrounded by people who hadn’t ever heard a Southerner talk in “real life”. I had grown tired of being an oddity and had worked hard to eliminate the Southern twang.

I didn’t say this to the Fosters though. I moved on to the next question. “And I think I’m pretty gainfully employed, after all, I’m working for your father.”

Oliver smiled. “And I’m so happy to have you.”

“Cheers to that,” Jude said unexpectedly. I raised my wine glass with the other two and ignored Jude as he winked at me.

Abruptly he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp, wiped his mouth across his sleeve and stood up. “Well, Father, Miss Cabot, it’s been fun but I have to go.”

“Work’s calling?” I said deliberately being intrusive. Tit-for-tat as far as I was concerned.

“Nope. Women to chase,” Oliver quipped. “You know Jude here was a professional soccer player. Although I think he spent most of his time chasing women instead of focusing on the game.”

Jude said, “A bit of both. I like mixing business with pleasure.”

“Yeah. Don’t we know it.”

As if he didn’t even hear his father, Jude walked away without another word. I watched him leave. I couldn’t help myself as I checked out his butt. It definitely belonged to an athlete. And as if he felt my eyes on him, he turned around and shot me a meaningful grin before disappearing through the dining room doors.

Oliver shook his head and gestured to the butler for more wine. After he was done filling up the glass, he went to leave, but Oliver stopped him saying, “Just leave the bottle. I’ll need it.”

The butler walked away with a little smile.

“I have to apologize for my son. He’s a little bit of an asshole. Well, actually more than a little bit.”

I choked into my wine and Oliver looked at me with amusement.

After I was done coughing, I struggled to come up with something nice to say. I tried to be considerate. “I’m sure he has his moments.”

“Not many of them,” Oliver said without any animosity. There was mostly amusement in his voice. His expression became serious. “We don’t see eye to eye on most things, but he’s still my son. I did a crappy job raising him, so apparently his being an asshole is mostly my fault.”

“I’m sure you did the best you could,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s not what my therapist says,” Oliver said with a laugh.

I liked Oliver. I liked his frank way of speaking and his self-deprecating humor.

“Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t become a personal assistant to listen to a rich old person’s problem.”

“Actually, I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re paying me for.”

He laughed and said, “You’re right.”

I reached for my purse and pulled out my tablet. I turned it on and said, “So should we start off with a list of tasks you would like me to complete and perhaps we can share calendars and sync your contact lists?”

“All that sounds great. I love technology. My previous personal assistant wrote everything down on a notepad.”

I laughed as if I didn’t do that too. I only reached for my tablet before I left the house because I couldn’t find my notepad.

Oliver and I covered the basics of the job for about an hour. I asked a lot of questions that he really couldn’t answer, but I got to know more about him. He was a really dear old man. I didn’t know what he’d been like as a father, but as an employer, it was clear that he was going to be one of my favorite clients. Thanks, Kadija.

Afterward, he gave me a tour of other areas around his home, the stables, guest house, swimming pool and gardens, and a series of passwords he wanted me to commit to memory; he insisted I didn’t write them down.

Later that afternoon, I packed my purse ready to leave.

“So what time tomorrow would you like me to stop by?”

“Don’t you have a birthday coming up this weekend?”

I looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

He replied, “Your personnel file.”

“Oh yeah. I have some plans but nothing really concrete.” I was lying. I didn’t have anything planned. Even though Emmaline and Misha had offered to take me out for the weekend, we hadn’t actually come up with exciting stuff to do. We’d probably just sit around my house and drink some beer.

“That’s too bad. A young girl like yourself should celebrate. Do something special. After all, you only turn twenty-one once.” He winked at me then and it reminded me so much of Jude’s wink earlier. Maybe he had gotten his rakishness from his father after all, I thought, amused.

“I’m turning thirty, as we both know, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

“Maybe not to you...” Oliver said turning away from me and walking towards the study. I followed behind him, wondering where he was going so abruptly.

He found his phone and tapped a few buttons and the next thing I knew, my phone beeped. I reached for it and my eyes grew wide at the message there. It was an alert from an app that we had agreed upon for payment purposes and according to the notification, Oliver had wired me $5000.

I opened my mouth and sputtered, “Is this some sort of payment advance?”

“No. It’s a bonus.”

“But I haven’t even done any work yet.”

He shrugged it off. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Consider it an investment. A happy, rested assistant is a good assistant. So take the weekend off, on me. Do something fun. Go to Vegas! Or Monte Carlo!”

I laughed. “Hold your horses. You gave me five thousand, not ten thousand.”

Oliver laughed, “I have a hotel in Vegas, if you want to go there you’ll have free accommodations and of course, you have access to my private plane.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t—”

“I insist.”

I was about to say no and then thought to myself – why not? I didn’t have any solid plans. And that had been my own fault since I’d insisted on not having a party even though both Emmaline and Misha were more than willing to plan one.

I frowned as I thought about the choices I tended to make. For some reason, I always deprived myself of any fun. When had I become such a stick in the mud? Oh yeah, I’d always been one. But no more. I was turning over a new leaf, with my employer’s blessing and money, obviously. I would be stupid to say no and so I said yes.

I thanked Oliver profusely and waited while he called me a taxi. As I walked to meet the taxi, I pulled out my cellphone and texted Emmaline and Misha. “We’re going to Vegas, ladies!!!!”

As expected, they didn’t text back. They called. Emmaline called first.

“Lacey,” she said without preamble. “Please tell me you’re not joking because Dora is driving me crazy and I need a break from being a mom like right now.” Emmaline had gotten pregnant during our senior year in college and Theodora had arrived shortly after Emmaline turned twenty. They had an unusual relationship, more like sisters than mother and daughter. And that had seemed to be working until recently; Emmaline mentioned on more than one occasion that Theodora was turning into a crazy tween and they barely agreed on anything anymore.

I filled her in and half-way into the call, Misha called as well. I connected the calls. “Don’t play with my emotions, Lacey. Please tell me you’re serious. I want to be in Vegas like right now. All male revue, baby! Wooohoooo!”

I heard Misha’s coworkers cheering in the background. I knew she had me on speakerphone and her entire office was listening. We’d both decided not to go into teaching after being teacher assistants in college and Misha had decided instead to go into interior design. She’d recently started her own interior design firm and it was an open office. No cubicles. Just everyone hanging around designing stuff. Most of her staff were women our age, except for her secretary, who was a sixty-year-old guy who didn’t say much. He mostly ignored them and ate BBQ all day. At least, that’s what Misha told me. I’d never met the guy.

“No joke. We’re going to Vegas ladies.”

“Whoop! Whoop!”

“On a private plane...”

“What?” gasped Emmaline.

“And that’s not even the best part, all our accommodations are paid for.”

“Excuse me!” Misha yelled. “Shut up! You have got to be kidding me.” I could hear the ladies in the background asking for more info.

I quickly filled everyone in, barely noticing the challenging trek back to the entrance since I was so excited over the recent turn of events, and when I was done with my story, I was at the gate and my taxi was waiting for me.

“This is crazy,” Emmaline said in awe as she digested all the details.

“No, this is awesome,” I said with a huge smile on my face as I slid into the taxi, waved good-bye to Peter and thanked God that I hadn’t said no to Kadija