“Why don’t we see where the pieces fall after he works here and not before?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I huffed and brought my gaze back to the screen.
“What’s wrong? You’re not still entertaining the idea of allowing that shithead access to your daughter?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because it’s a terrible idea.”
“That’s your opinion, Dad, and thanks for sharing.”
“Not just mine alone. It’s your mother’s too.”
“That’s nice. But this is my decision.”
“It certainly is. Please, for the sake of your daughter, make this decision with careful consideration.”
“Dad—”
A hand came up. “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”
Stuart had a right, as her father, to have some kind of relationship with her. I didn’t want Easton to resent me in the future for not allowing it.
Chapter Four
English
On Monday, Tristian showed up at the office right after me. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and looked mighty tasty. It made me think about the last time I’d been with a man—it had been with Stuart way back when. This girl needed to get laid.
As I stared at him, he said with raised brows, “Hope there isn’t a dress code here. I forgot to ask.”
I held back the urge to fan myself. “Gosh, no. We wear whatever is comfortable, unless you’re on a shoot that demands different attire. Dad should be in soon.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Should I call him Mr. Bridges?”
“Pretty sure he’ll tell you to call him Beck. But if I were you, I’d call him Mr. Bridges the first time. He likes to have respect shown.”
“I totally get that. Then show me to my workstation.”
It was more of a demand than a request. It sort of rankled me, but I let it pass, figuring he wanted to get a start to make a good impression on my dad.
“For the first week, you’ll work with him in his office.” I pushed away from my desk and signaled for him to follow me. “This is where you’ll be hanging.” I pointed to the spare desk in Dad’s office. “Follow me.” We went down the hall to the space where he’d be on the regular. “This will be yours and you can do whatever you want with it. If you need something that isn’t in here, just let the admin, Phyllis, know. She should be in any moment.”
He entered the room, which contained a desk, computer with dual monitors, lots of shelving, and a large printer that was used for photos. “This looks good. I’ll be using my laptop so I probably won’t need those.” He gestured to the dual monitors on the desk. “You can remove them.”
Damn, he was bossy. “Maybe you should give them a try first. Once you get used to them, a laptop becomes pretty lame for photos. It can be okay to load and look, but the duals help you decide with a better eye.”
His eyes narrowed critically. “Don’t think so. I know what I like already.” Was he dismissing me like some nitwit who didn’t know this business?
I rubbed my palms together, itching to remove myself from his presence. He was handsome in an extraordinary way, but this man was turning out to be a jackass. “Guess I’ll get back to work.”
“Hey, how about getting me a cup of coffee first? I take it black.”
All right, this was crossing the line. “I’ll be happy to show you the kitchen and the coffee maker, but I will not, nor will anyone else in this office, be your errand person.” My icy response should’ve imparted my anger. Only he ignored it.
“Why not? No one else complained in the other places I worked.”
“If you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the nineteenth century, or 1960 for that matter. You have two arms with hands attached and are perfectly capable of making your own coffee. Follow me and I can show you where.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Was this asshole toying with me? I was fairly adept at reading people, but he had thrown me for a loop. I marched out, head held high in defiance, and went to the kitchen. He was on my heels and when I stopped to fill the coffee maker with water, he asked, “Are you angry?”
“And why in the world would I be?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I only wanted some coffee and now you’re angry.”
“Because you expected someone to get it for you, instead of asking where the coffee maker was.” He was positively infuriating. And obtuse.
He grabbed the water reservoir out of my hands, filled it up, and asked, “Where are the pods?”
“In there.” I pointed to the drawer where we kept them.
“And the cups?”
I opened the cabinet for him. “Right here. And wash your cup after you use it. We don’t do anyone else’s dishes around here except our own, nor is there a magical kitchen fairy that shows up every night to clean up this place.”
His mouth twitched again. “Understood.”
“Good.” I turned to head back to my office.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to work. Where else?” He couldn’t possibly be this ignorant.
“Show me your work. Mr. Bridges sang your praises yesterday and I’d like to see if you’re as accomplished as he said.”
“Yeah, no. Some other time.” As accomplished as he said. What the hell! This man was a complete dick. Too bad that hadn’t shown up in his background check.
“By the way, nice shirt.”
Glancing down, I saw the smiling faces of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Easton had picked it out for me to wear this morning. “Thanks. I love it, especially since my daughter wanted me to wear it today.” I started to leave again and his voice stopped me.
“Daughter?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. What kind of hobbies do you have?”
Was this conversation never going to end? At least Stuart knew when to shut up… sometimes.
“Hobbies? I work full time and have a six-year-old. Pray tell, when would I have time for hobbies? I fall into bed each night, exhausted.”
“Maybe you should exercise.”
That was it. I was so done with him. Mr. Smokeshow had just burned and fizzled out into a pile of dead cinders. “Maybe you should mind your own business.”
“No, it would give you more energy. I run each morning. Get up at six and go out for an hour.”
“Lucky you. And if I did that, who would watch Easton? The tooth fairy?”
“What about a treadmill?”
“Oh, I see. I could snap my fingers and one would magically appear.”
“Why don’t you ask your dad to buy you one?”
I crossed my arms and tucked my hands under them to keep from punching his pretty face. “What I ask my parents for is none of your business, but, since you brought it up, let me say this. I don’t ask them for a single thing. I work every day, just like you, and care for my daughter. She goes to after-school care when I can’t pick her up on time, but when I can, I work from home after I get there. Yes, I am fortunate my job is flexible. But I also freelance, like you. I have other clients besides my father. I don’t ask them to buy me treadmills or other exercise machines. When I want to buy something, I pay for things myself.” While it was true my parents gave me many gifts, they were things I hadn’t asked for, but he didn’t need to know that.