Tequila, Tequila

“How? We work here, not in Denver, and I’m not moving to Denver.”

“I didn’t say you had to, Cameron. But if we open another office—and it’s high time we did—you’ll be in control of it and managing. She’ll be integral in helping you manage two offices.”

I ground my teeth. “You weren’t sold on her the other day.”

“Well, I spoke her to her, and she called me ‘ma’am.’”

“You hate being called ma’am.”

“I know, but I like that she was polite enough to do so.” She shrugged one shoulder and sipped her tea before delicately setting it back down onto the saucer. “I know that you’re trying to put me off inviting her, but I think it’s the right thing to do. I’d like to meet her and see if she’s up to the job.”

Jesus. After the last two days, I wasn’t sure Hurricane Mallory was cut out for my mom’s kind of mixers. She was exactly how she’d said Jade had described her—a catastrophe queen.

She didn’t find disaster. Disaster found her.

“You’re not her boss,” I reminded her. “I’m her boss. It matters if I think she’s up to the job, not you.”

Mom waved her hand. “Of course, but we still own the company, darling.”

I tried not to grind my teeth so hard that I literally wore them down, but it was damn right. “Yes, but you signed over control of the office to me when Dad stepped down. My office. My assistant. My choice.”

Mom sighed. “I’m not trying to change your choices—”

“You just said you want to see if she’s up to the job. You can’t decide that in a business mixer where she’s not actually doing her damn job. If you want to see that, stop by for a day and see how damn good she is at it.”

When she’s not spilling coffee or getting the window stuck and wearing bright yellow rubber gloves.

Mom sipped her tea again, not bothered for a second by my words. “Look, I felt rude asking her to pass on the message to you without inviting her. I’d like to meet her, so it kills two birds with one stone.”

“She’s been there less than a week. You can’t expect her to go to the mixer and act like she’s been with me for a year.”

“I’m not at all. She’ll be introduced as your new assistant, but Casey did things like this all the time.”

“Casey was born into this job. She was handed the Saturday job as soon as she turned sixteen.” I leaned against the island. “She’s been in the job for four days. Have you lost your damn mind?”

Mom wasn’t bothered at all by my words. “No. I’m quite in control of my faculties, thank you, Cameron.”

She could have fooled me.

“Mother. You invited my assistant of less than a week to a fancy, formal, business mixer. I’d like to argue about the control of your faculties.”

“Do you not trust her?”

About as much as I’d trust a landslide in a town center.

“Of course I do,” I replied without blinking. “But she’s just getting settled. Have you considered that it might be too much for her? She’s not as used to this as we are. You have to understand that you can be quiet overbearing sometimes.”

Mom paused, turning her eagle eyes on me with disapproval glaring in them. “Does she not want to come?”

“I didn’t say that.” My words were quick. I didn’t want to get Mallory in any trouble, but she also needed to know that she’d overstepped a little. “She’s happy to come, but I don’t want you putting any pressure on her. She’s the best assistant I’ve had since Casey left, and I don’t want to lose her because of this.”

Silence reigned for the longest time until she finally sighed. She dropped her shoulders the tiniest moment. “Fine. I understand what you’re saying. I advise that you keep her by your side the entire night and lead her in what to do.”

“Are you suggesting we throwback to when women were to be seen and not heard?”

“Do you know me at all?”

I quit.

“Support her, Cameron. Professionally, she is your employee, but personally, you are equals.” Mom daintily took a drink from her teacup, using both hands to steady the cup. “Show her the ropes. Give her respect. Allow her to speak without overshadowing her.”

“Be her boyfriend,” I said dryly.

“If that’s what it takes to help her through the night, yes. But with less touching.”

“Emotion wouldn’t kill you,” I noted, grabbing my coffee mug to keep me grounded. The woman was a nightmare. “Understanding that she doesn’t come from money and isn’t used to your soirees would do you well, Mother.”

“I know she isn’t from money. I did a thorough background check of her when Casey approved her application.” Again, another sip from that damn teacup. “She’s more than qualified for her position, but is she qualified for this business?”