“’K.”
“Love you.”
CURSING LIKE A SAILOR, I park in the last row at the plant and quickly make my way through a sea of cars into the lobby. The last thing I need is a lecture on timeliness after a stale and uneventful dinner with my father last night. That hour or so I was forced to spend under eagle-eyed scrutiny was enough to make me thankful for my new schedule, which will have me working most nights. The warmth of the sun disappears the second I pull open the glass doors. The building itself feels ancient. Though polished, the tile floors are cracking and peeling after decades of use. There’s a large potted fern in the middle of the lobby that gives a pretense of life somewhere inside, but upon closer inspection, I realize it’s fake and littered with cobwebs. A lone security guard that looks past his prime stands idly by as an older, well-dressed woman with shrewd grey eyes greets me from behind a front desk.
“Hello, I’m Cecelia Horner. I’m here for orientation.”
“I’m aware, Ms. Horner, last door on the left,” she replies, her eyes assessing my dress as she directs me to a long corridor. Dismissed, I take the steps, pass a few vacant offices and just in time, slip past a woman holding the door for the last of the newcomers. She greets me with a warm smile—the only warmth in the building apparently—as I shiver from the frigid indoor climate. She instructs me to fill out a name tag, and I do, sticking it on the sundress I opted to wear today before being bound to the drab uniform that waits in my closet. I feel the heavy stares of those already seated and choose the closest open desk.
The room is dark, the only light from a projection screen that says ‘Welcome’ in bold letters with the Horner Technologies company logo across the bottom.
I’ve never taken pride in my last name. As far as I can tell, I was a spill Roman made years ago that he had enough money to clean up. I have no illusions we’ll ever be close. He doesn’t look at me with the same cruel indifference as he does my mother from what I’ve gathered in the few encounters I’ve witnessed, but I’m most definitely an afterthought.
Dinner last night was awkward to say the least, our conversation forced. Today I’m here to do his bidding. Another worker ant to add to his industrial farm. It’s like this is some attempt to teach me a life lesson that hard work pays off, but I’m no stranger to that. I’ve paid my way since I’ve been able to work, bought my first car, and made the insurance payments while balancing my own checkbook. I’ve got nothing to learn from him, that much I know. I have little doubt the longer I comply with his demands and agree with his plans for me, the more my resentment will grow.
This is for Mom.
The woman who greeted me at the door steps up to the front of the room and smiles. “Looks like most of us are here, so let’s begin. I’m Jackie Brown, yes like the movie,” none of us laugh, “and I’ve been working for Horner Tech for eight years. I’m the HR director, and I’m excited to welcome you to orientation. In an effort to get to know everyone, I would very much like if each of you stood and briefly introduced yourselves.”
I’m in the first seat upfront, and she nods toward me. I reluctantly stand, not bothering to face the rest of the room and speak directly to her. “I’m Cecelia, not like the song. New in town. I’m just going to clear the air now and let you know my father owns this place, but I want no special treatment. And I promise not to narc if you take an extra cigarette break or like your afternoon delight in the janitor’s closet.”
My introduction doesn’t go over well with Jackie Brown as she gapes at me, while a chuckle sounds up behind me. Taking my seat, I curse my inability to get through the first few minutes of orientation without my grudge rearing its ugly head. I should know better than to poke the bear on my first day and have no doubt my father will hear about this. But other than the inevitable repercussion, I’m having a hard time regretting it. I remind myself for the hundredth time that this is for Mom and vow to keep my attitude in check, at least until my probation period is over.
“Next, you, behind her.”
With the movement behind me, I catch a whiff of cedar before he speaks. “Sean, no relation to the man upstairs, and this is my second time working for Horner Tech. I left briefly. And I would very much enjoy some afternoon delight in the janitor’s closet.” Muffled laughter sounds throughout the room as the first smile I’ve been capable of in days, spreads over my face.
I half turn in my seat and look over my shoulder to meet amused hazel eyes. The drag of his gaze over me has my skin prickling with awareness. Feet away, in the dim light, I’m able to appreciate the alluring outline of his features along with his incredible build, the stretch of his T-shirt across his pecs, and snug-fitting dark jeans before he takes his seat. We play a short game of stare off where I wait a few seconds past the awkward point before I turn back to face Jackie Brown.
“Welcome back, Sean. Let’s refrain from making any more comments like that, shall we?”
It takes a lot of effort to hide my grin, and I can still feel his gaze on me as one by one the room stands to introduce themselves.
Maybe this won’t suck so bad after all.
“HEY, AFTERNOON DELIGHT!” AN AMUSED chuckle sounds up behind me as I make my way through the parking lot, “Wait up!”
Frown in place, I turn to see Sean sauntering toward me between a row of cars. Hands on my hips, I stare him down as he approaches, and then am forced to look up at him when he gets closer due to our difference in height.
In the sparkling light of day, he’s far more impressive than I gave him original credit for, and I’m careful to control my gawk. His looks are—paralyzing—spiked two-toned dirty blond and platinum hair, sun-drenched skin, insane build, and hazel eyes with undecided dominance, a strong nose with a slight bump along the ridge ending with just the right flare. And his mouth, his mouth is enough in and of itself to keep my thirsty eyes busy. His tongue darts out, sliding against the ring tucked in the corner, showcasing his full bottom lip. His gaze glitters over me, along with a building smirk as I take my fill and then drift to his pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, and lower, and lower. A large tattoo covers the majority of his left arm, the dark black tip of a wing and feathers starting just above his elbow and looks like it ends at the base of his neck.
“That’s not my name.”
“Sorry,” a flash of teeth, “couldn’t resist.”
“Try harder.”
His chuckle sends a flutter across my skin. “Will do. That was pretty brave back there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not looking forward to the job. It’s a condition of my sentence.”
He frowns. “Sentence?”
“Because of my last name. I’m being forced to work here for a year, so I’m deserving of it, I guess.” I shrug as if my bitterness hasn’t said too much on my behalf.
“Hmm, you aren’t alone. I’m not thrilled about being back here either.” He’s older, I’m guessing somewhere in his mid-twenties, his presence impossible to ignore due to his insanely good looks and his scent is just as tempting—cedar and something else I can’t put my finger on. The vibe he’s throwing off is irresistible. The more he stands in the golden sun, the more he seems to absorb. It’s alarming just how much looking at him is unnerving me. But I don’t berate myself for it because his gaze is equally shameless. This morning, though my mood was grim, I’d dressed up, and I’m glad I made an effort as I face off with Sean in a knee-length halter sundress, black with small white polka dots. I’d left my hair down, and it lays straightened over my shoulders. I’d spent extra time on my lashes and heavily glossed my lips, which I lick under his stare, and his eyes drop.