Chapter Five
Ian
I spent the rest of the day in my office with the door open, so I could overhear everything that Jonathan and Daisy talked about. It was quaint, really, sort of like listening to “How Not To Get A Girl Interested In You.” It was almost unbelievable how badly he sucked at flirting. I mean, it was painful for me, and I was just eavesdropping.
It got so bad that at four-thirty, I made my way out of the office and told Daisy she could take off early. She was sitting at the desk, pen in hand, file folders separated into different piles in front of her.
“Oh,” she said. “I was just going to file these, and then I’ll go. Does the day usually end now?”
“Not usually,” I said. “So tomorrow you can expect to be here longer. But for your first day, I think it’s good if you ease into it. If you want to file those before you go, you can.”
“Okay, I’ll do that first.”
She got up, smoothing her skirt down, even though it wasn’t rumpled, and took the files.
“You’re doing great, Daisy,” Jonathan said, as though he were her life coach or something.
He was trying not to hover, but he only lasted about two seconds before he made his way over to the filing cabinet.
“Thanks so much for coming in today,” he said as she dropped the last file in and closed the door. “I—we, I mean, think you did great.”
“You already said that,” I said. “But you did, Daisy. Great job.” Did I sound sarcastic? I wasn’t meaning to be, but it was hard not to make fun of Jonathan a little bit.
“Well, thank you, both of you,” she said. “Should I come in earlier tomorrow?”
“That’s fine. Nine o’clock is good. Don’t worry about bringing me a coffee.”
I watched as she got her stuff, said goodbye to us two more times, and then finally left.
“So,” I said, once Daisy’s behind had disappeared from view. I glanced at Jonathan, who was also looking after her, puppy dog eyes on full display. For fuck’s sake. “How did the little bloom’s first day go?”
“Huh?” Jonathan said when he was finally able to yank his gaze away from the door she just exited. “Bloom?”
“Yeah . . . her name’s Daisy . . . flowers . . .” I waved my hand. “Never mind. How’d it go?”
Jonathan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s great, man. You didn’t make a mistake giving her the job. I mean, yeah, Lynn probably would’ve done fine, too, but she was kind of . . . I don’t know . . . prickly? That’s the vibe I got from her.”
“And you definitely don’t get that from Daisy.”
“No! She’s really enthusiastic. She wants to please.” He frowned. “That came out sounding wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You should get your mind out of the gutter,” I said, which was laughable because Jonathan was about as Boy Scout as you could get.
“I wasn’t . . .” He let his voice trail off. “She was definitely a better choice than Lynn was. I know that for sure.”
“If she’s not, we can just fire her and go with number three on my list, who I believe was Charlotte.”
Jonathan blanched. Christ, he really was whipped.
Daisy’s second day on the job. Let’s see, what was she wearing today? Was that a wool skirt? A wool skirt that went past the knees? Why, yes, yes it was. And a blouse that was buttoned all the way up to the top button? Christ. I leaned against the door frame of my office and watched as she struggled with one of those five-gallon Poland Springs bottles. I could change one of those one-handed, but Daisy was obviously going to have much more of a challenge. She wasn’t completely devoid of muscle; underneath those clothes, I could tell there was a slender figure wrapped up in toned muscles—she probably did yoga or pilates—but she still wasn’t going to be strong enough to be able to easily get that thing on the cooler.
Her back was to me, and she was contorting herself over the bottle, trying to figure out the best way to heft it up without spilling it all over herself. That gray wool skirt made her ass look like a shapeless lump. Really? Freak in bed? What the fuck was Jonathan smoking? Unless it was like some sort of purposeful deception, like underneath that shapeless skirt she was actually wearing crotchless panties and a garter belt, which, even I had to admit was hot.
Her calves, though. They were shapely, tapering down to rather delicate looking ankles.
I cleared my throat. “You need to bend your knees,” I said, “or you’re going to pull a back muscle.”
She jumped and turned, smoothing her skirt down as she did so. “Oh!” she said, her face reddening. “I didn’t realize you were there.”