Switch (Landry Family 3)

My shoulders rise and fall. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what I plan on doing. So many things have changed for me and I’m not really sure where I sit these days. I’ve worked as an Administrative Assistant for years now. Even when I was going to nursing school, I worked at Beenmeyer Company. It’s all I really know and can do well.”

I look away because I feel like he’s trying to read me again. I’m afraid that this time, he’ll realize what a mess I am. That’s not something Graham will appreciate in all his organizational bliss.

“Eric Johnson,” he says finally. “Is he still in the picture?”

“No. I told him I wanted to drop out of nursing school, we had a fight, and I ended up leaving him.”

Something passes through his eyes. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. I apologize for pressing you.”

“It’s fine,” I concede, finding my footing. “You didn’t press me. It’s still so raw for me to discuss.” Especially with you. “So, what happened in your life?”

“I went to the University of Georgia and got a Master’s in business. Pretty predictable, right?”

I grin. “Yes. But there has to be something more. No one gets through high school and college with no crazy tales.”

A knock comes to the door and Graham sags back in his chair. He holds up a finger to tell me to wait a second.

I sit quietly and listen to him converse with Raza, her giggle drifting through the room. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Let’s eat over here,” he says over the rustle of a plastic bag.

I stand and follow him to a circular table near a window. As he places the containers at our seats, I take a moment to admire his office.

It’s a large corner office with bright white paint, dark wood, and a loveseat against the back wall. A glass table is in front of it with what appears to be a handful of magazines of some sort and a small figurine that I can’t make out. A tree stands in the corner in a beautiful terracotta pot. Everything is clean, organized, smart . . . and slightly uptight. Just like Graham.

“Ready?” he asks. When I look at him, he raises a brow. “Like what you see?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you approve.” His lips twist and I know he knows I wasn’t just referring to the abstract painting on the far wall. “I had your credit card reimbursed for your lunch.”

“I—” My objection is silenced by a look from Graham. “Thank you,” I gulp.

“That pained you, didn’t it?”

“What?” I say, opening the container in front of me.

&nbs

p; “To just say thank you.”

“Kind of,” I laugh. “I’m just not used to someone doing something for me without expecting something in return. I’ve learned it’s easier just to do everything yourself.”

He cuts his sandwich in two pieces and lays half of his alongside my side salad. My mouth opens to object, but closes as his quirked brow silences me.

“First of all,” he says, “you’re right—it is easier to do things yourself. I understand that. It’s hard for me to trust anyone.”

“Is that why you went through so many assistants before me?”

He raises a brow.

“Sienna told me,” I say. “She also might’ve said you’re a little difficult to get along with, but if I give you time, I’d like you.”

“Did she?”

“She did,” I shrug. “Lincoln too, now that I think of it,” I admit. “I’m hoping they’re right.”

“So you don’t like me now?” The way he says it, a slight tease to his tone, is enough to send my hormones into a frenzy.