It's Never Easy - Boudreaux Universe

I was of two minds about the perfume. I’m testing him because I did spritz a few wisps on my neck and my wrists. Now, all I can smell is the freaking apples that he mentioned he hated. Well, he didn’t say hate, but the frustration in his tone spoke volumes. I’ll happily obey any work regulations, but if he acts like an asshole, I’m not going to stand by and have him order me around.

If he wants me to wear something specific, he can issue a uniform. And my perfume doesn’t change how I do my job. Since I know we won’t be working closely together from what the advertisement mentioned, I don’t see how it’s a problem.

As I make my way down the long, tree-lined driveway at seven-forty-five, I can’t help my stomach tumbling with excitement. The prospect of having a job already has me nervous and anxious. I can’t believe he gave me the job on the spot.

The sun is high already, beating down on the lush green grass and the colorful flowers that line the porch. The white siding of the house seems far too bright. The shutters on the windows are dark blue, open, offering a glimpse of the curtains that close off the interior from the exterior.

I reach the door, lift my hand, but before I can knock, it swings open, and I almost fall into the house. The man on the other side regards me with narrowed eyes as I look up into those dark depths that hold so much pain my breath is stolen.

“You’re early,” he grits, frustration evident in his voice, but I don’t allow him to bring me down. The morning was crisp and welcoming, and I allowed myself to enjoy the sunshine, and the dark, stormy cloud he’s got following him around won’t get to me.

“I know.” I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and await the gruff tone to tell me off, but instead, he nods before stepping aside and allowing me to enter.

The moment I brush past him, my senses are on high alert as the scent of his cologne, something like a forest in the middle of a rainstorm, engulfs me. It’s madly rough, just like him, and yet I can’t inhale it deep enough.

“Follow me,” he says after he slams the door shut, causing me to jump. He doesn’t take note of my nervousness; instead, he walks ahead, and I follow him down a long hallway toward the back of the large house. We reach a white painted door, which Julian opens, and on the other side is an office that looks like it’s outdoors.

The windows are high toward the ceiling, giving off an illusion of height to the room. The patio doors are open. They lead to the lush greenery beyond, beckoning me to go there, but I know I’m meant to be focused on my job.

The floors are tiled in a soft gray color, and the desks and chairs, two of each, are light wood. Everything about this room is the complete opposite of Julian Elliot. Two bookshelves fill one wall, and I notice all the spines are coordinated by their color.

“This will be your desk,” Julian says. He’s still not greeted me, and I don’t feel the need to be overly friendly if he can’t even share common courtesy. “I’ve put all the information for next week’s event here,” he tells me as he gestures to the stack of pages I know will take me all day to go through.

“Thank you.”

“Once you’re done with that, I’ll take you through to the gallery, and we can talk about how to set up the artwork.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he moves about the room, shoving a chair under the desk I’m guessing is his. “I’ll be out for an hour to grab some food. If you want coffee, water, or juice, the kitchen is free for you to use. Just don’t venture anywhere else in my house.” His tone is gruff, a warning laced in every word.

“I’m not a snoop,” I bite out without thinking. Snapping my gaze to his, I half expect him to be angry; instead, he’s grinning. I’m not ready for that this early in the morning because, if I had to be honest, my new boss is a hottie. As Phee would say.

“Good.” He nods and heads for the door.

I set my purse down along with my laptop bag before I look at him and ask, “Is there an internet connection I can use?”

He stills at the door as if that’s something he hasn’t even considered. I can’t work and send emails if I’m not connected. He should be able to understand that.

“The password is on your desk. There’s nothing else you’ll need,” he informs me before disappearing out the door, leaving me in my new office.