Jaxson’s door opened, and he strode out, stopping when he saw us. He frowned, taking in our close proximity.
“Coffee break already?”
“Haven’t got that far yet,” Michael replied easily.
“Move it along, Michael. I have a busy day. I need Ms. VanRyan up to speed ASAP.”
“I’m aware of your busy day. I oversee your schedule. I was welcoming Grace to the office.” He sniffed. “Someone has to be nice.”
Jaxson glared, then handed me a stack of files. “Read these, and we’ll discuss after lunch.” He looked at Michael. “Show her around. Make sure her schedule allows some study time. Take her to HR and get her settled. IT should have set up a laptop for her. Find it. I need more information on Drake’s Manufacturing. The file is thin.”
I spoke up. “I can do that. I’m great at research.”
Jaxson’s blue gaze flickered to me. “Fine. I need it today.” He looked back to Michael. “Get her a computer. ASAP.”
“I’m sure there is a computer in the library I can use if there isn’t one on my desk. It’s not a problem. I can work anywhere.”
Jaxson spun on his heel, pausing at his door. “I need coffee, Michael.” He met my gaze. “And it is a problem. I want you at that desk, not in the library.” He paused. “No personal cell phone usage in the office unless you’re on a break.”
He disappeared, and the words were out before I could stop them. “At my desk so he can watch me and make sure I’m not breaking the rules?” I muttered. “Jeesh.”
His head appeared around the doorframe. “Yes. Trust is earned, Ms. VanRyan, not blindly given.”
I felt the heat in my cheeks, but I refused to back down. “The same with respect, Mr. Richards.”
His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. His door shut loudly, and I looked at Michael with a grimace. “So much for a good impression.”
He grinned. “Girlfriend, I am totally in love with you. Don’t tell my husband that, though. The big brute is a jealous bugger.” He indicated a framed picture on his desk, and I tried not to laugh. His husband was shorter than him, slightly chubby, and had the sweetest expression I had ever seen. He was looking at Michael in the picture as if he hung the sun.
“I can see that.”
Michael chuckled. “Okay, let’s get moving before boss man comes back out and starts yelling. I’ll take you to HR and get his coffee and blueberry muffins. He eats two every morning. I think the sugar helps him. He’s usually not as grumpy afterward.”
I made a mental note of that—it might come in handy. Plus the fact that Jaxson Richards had excellent hearing. I would have to remember that and use an inner monologue for my smart remarks. I grinned at Michael. “My dad is always better once he has a bagel in the morning. My mom says he used to be unbearable before he ate.”
He grinned as he opened the door and let me walk out first. “You have experience in dealing with high-handed men. That’s a good thing.”
I had a feeling he was right.
Chapter 3
Grace
I smoothed down my hair, straightened my shoulders, and knocked on Jaxson’s door. He had been in and out all day, meeting with people, on the phone, constantly busy. My computer had been delivered, I had filled out all the necessary forms for HR, and I had spent the day going through the files Jaxson placed on my desk and researching Drake’s Manufacturing.
“In,” he called.
I entered, shutting the door behind myself. I had learned several things today. Mr. Richards was an extremely busy man. Not only did he deal with corporate, but his expertise in copyright and trademark law kept him in constant demand. His files were varied and vast, and he consulted with several of the lawyers on staff. He liked his records a certain way, and he insisted the documentation on all of them done to his specifications. He was meticulous and precise. Stern and unflappable. His mood did get slightly better after he ate his muffins, but I wouldn’t call him friendly. He was reserved with some people and downright cold with others. He muttered under his breath a lot. His hearing was uncommonly good, and he liked his door kept open unless he was on a client call. He grimaced a great deal, especially when drinking coffee.
Yet twice I had spied a small glimpse of a different side to him. I heard him inquire about Michael’s daughter, Abby, who had a cold, asking if she was feeling better. I gleaned that he had sent her a stuffed animal—which she adored—to brighten her day. He seemed pleased to find out she was doing better and was happy his gift was met with so much enthusiasm. Another time, I had carried in a stack of correspondence while he was on the phone, and he had glanced up as I walked in. I paused, unsure if I should continue, but he waved me in. “I’m on mute.”