The Relationtrip, page 21
“Here you go, Callie Michaels,” he says, clearly flirting with me.
“Thank you, Chris Potter.” I tap to pay him, and his phone cha-chings from where he’s attached it to the windshield.
“Hey, before you go,” he says, and I know what comes next. I actually smile, because he’s going to ask me out, and that means I’ve put all the parts of myself together well enough to make other people believe I have my life together.
They don’t know about the house fire. Or the escaped hamsters. The partial nudity in public. Or the Glue Incident.
So.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asks. “Maybe you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime.”
He has nice eyes, the color of the rich, deep earth that my potted plants sit in. At least until I kill them.
“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” I say. “When is ‘sometime,’ Mister Potter?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I think I have a date with another pretty woman I drove to work yesterday…”
I laugh, because he is cute, and why shouldn’t I go out with him? He’s clearly not a serial killer.
He could be, I think.
That’s why you date, I hear in my head, in my mother’s voice. To find out if he’s a serial killer or not.
“No facial piercings?” I ask, searching that handsome face. “Are you a cat-hater? Wait. Do you only own sweats?” I eye the pants, once again noting how skinny he is.
I need a beefier guy to go with my size twelve body. Fine, size fourteen. But it’ll be a good dinner date, and I won’t have to eat meatloaf for the third or fourth night in a row.
He swipes on his phone for a moment, his chuckle still filling the car. “Looks like I have to work tomorrow, and my mom is going to do our monthly are-you-dating-anyone dinner on Wednesday…Thursday?”
He looks up, hopeful.
“Sure,” I say. “Thursday.”
“I’ll text you right now, and then you’ll have my number.”
“Perfect.” I’ve already tucked my phone away, because Dawson doesn’t like it when I walk in, glued to my phone. I feel the device vibrate against my foot, and I add, “I got it. Now, wish me luck with my raise.”
“Good luck with your raise,” he says dutifully, and I giggle again as I get out of the car.
Facing the house, though, I erase all signs of joviality. It’s time for work, and that means I need my best game face securely in place.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself as I walk down the sidewalk. “You’re smart. You’re capable. You’ve taken this company from floundering to thriving. You, Callie. It’s Monday morning, and you have meetings with this man specifically to talk about this kind of thing.”
I put my hand on the door handle and take another breath. I’m going to slay this Monday.
I open the door, my cute bag on my shoulder and my leopard underwear concealed beneath adorable, professional attire.
This raise is mine, I think…at least until I hear Dawson yell, “It better be here by ten, or someone’s going to lose their head!”
Sneak Peek! Just His Secretary Chapter Two:
Dawson
I cannot believe the guy on the other end of the line. “This is unacceptable,” I say next, taking my bellow down to a mere yell. It might even simply be how I’d call out to Callie, my secretary.
She appears in the doorway, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised toward the ceiling. I wave her inside as the guy explains to me about an accident his bike courier experienced that morning.
“Then get another courier,” I say. “And if those renditions are damaged at all, I swear, I’ll make sure no one uses your services again.”
Callie enters the office, her tartly green-apple bag hanging from her forearm. She strides in, which I like. She’s not afraid of me, even when I’m on the edge of rage.
She’s dressed perfectly for this afternoon’s meeting, though she wears a skirt five days a week. I’d told her she could dress down on Fridays, but I never do, and I guess she picked up on my cues.
Today, her blouse reminds me of a field of flowers, and the CEO of Veterans Brew loves poppies.
She’s got those, and some violet blooms, as well as some flower that’s yellow. The greenery flowing over the white, silky fabric makes her the epitome of spring, and I’m male enough to notice her curves.
“Fine,” I bark into the phone as the owner of the courier company tells me he’ll drive over the renditions of the marketing materials we need for that afternoon himself. “By ten o’clock.”
I slam the phone down and run both hands through my hair. “Good morning,” I say with a sigh.
“Is it?” Callie asks.
When I look at her, she tilts her head, her expression open and questioning at the same time.
“No,” I say. “The bike courier got in an accident this morning, and the renditions of the posters won’t be here until ten.”
“Should we postpone the morning meeting until we get them?” She bends to open her bag, taking out several folders and putting them on the edge of my desk.
I’m tired already, and it’s Monday morning. I suppress a sigh and run my fingers down my beard instead. I reach for the glasses I need to see things close up, though I haven’t told anyone that they should be a permanent feature on my face. Callie thinks they’re reading glasses, and since I’ll be reading her notes, I’m fine to wear them.
“No,” I say. “Let’s go over the week.” I reach for the notes she’s extracted, but she doesn’t extend them toward me.
I lift my eyes to hers, and if I still dated women—which I don’t—I’d be looking for a pair of eyes the color of hers. Bright blue, like a perfect summery sky over South Carolina. The kind I experienced as a kid, sitting on the beach at the fancy resort my parents had taken me to.
I swallow, something sparking inside me that had died the day Kim had left me standing at the altar.
“What’s going on?” I growl, a third at her for refusing to give me the notes, a third for the late renditions, and a third at the stupid way my hormones and body have reacted to my secretary.
I’ve told more people than I can count that she’s just my secretary. So many clients and customers have commented on how well we work together and how cute we are as a couple.
“She’s just my secretary,” has come out of my mouth dozens of times, almost like a parrot.
She’s said it too, and she’s never once indicated that she’d like to spend any more time with me than she has to.
“I’d like to speak with you about something first,” she says, reaching up and tucking her long, sandy-blonde hair behind her ear.
She’s nervous.
I lean back in my chair, suddenly nervous too. “You’re quitting.”
“What?” She shakes her head. “No.” A light, girlish giggle comes from her mouth, and I glare at her.
She silences it. She’s a couple of years younger than me, and some men like giggling. I am not one of them. I barely tolerate the stuffed animals she brings into the office for Valentine’s Day, and the fruity candles she’s forever lighting to make the office smell more homey drive me to the brink of madness.
Most things do, in all honesty. Including the way my stupid male side wonders what her very female mouth would taste like.
My hormones rear up every few months, and I have to tamp them back down into the box where I keep them. Sometimes I’ll chat with someone via a dating app or even go to dinner with Lance, my best friend, and his girlfriend. That reminds me how much I do not want to be tied down, and I’m good for a while.
“I want a raise,” Callie blurts out. Her eyes widen, and she shakes her shoulders slightly. “I mean, I’ve been here for over five years now, Mister Houser. You were barely operating in the black then, and now this place is turning customers away.”
She has a ton to do with that, and I’m not oblivious to that fact.
“It’s been sixteen months since my last raise, and I believe I’m due.”
I steeple my fingers in front of my face and consider her request.
She nods, her pitch done. I do like that about her. I have a list of things I’d like to discuss for this week too, and we need to go over our afternoon meeting.
“Fine,” I say again, this time with much less animosity in my voice. “Another twelve?”
“That would be wonderful,” she says, her smile professional though her eyes now dance with merriment.
I can admit I’m glad she’s happy. The rope that is always wound tight inside me releases a little bit. “Now, can we go over the notes?”
“Yes, sir,” she says, handing them to me. “We also need to discuss a possible new cleaner, as you mentioned it last week. And I’d like to change the fresh flower delivery to bi-weekly instead of weekly.”
“I have a list too.” I take the notes from her and hand her the list I’ve scrawled on a scrap of paper from a pad my mother gave me for Christmas last year.
She takes that and we study what we’ve been given. “Your mother is coming Thursday?” she asks, plenty of surprise in her voice.
I look up and find her frowning. “Yes,” I say. “I just found out.”
“You better have,” she said, exchanging my list for her phone. “You do know how hard it is to get a housekeeper on such short notice, right?” She lifts her phone to her ear. “You do need me to get someone to clean your house, yes?”
“Yes, please,” I say, embarrassed my secretary has to do such a thing for me.
She sighs and looks at my list again. “It’s a good thing I’ve got my power panties on today,” she says. “Or I’d never get all of this done.”
I choke, not used to talking about unmentionables across my desk. At least not with Callie.
Not with anyone, I remind myself.
“Your what?”
Callie gasps and claps one hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as dinner plates and stuck on mine.
The moment between us is almost funny, if I wasn’t now thinking about what she has on beneath her clothes.
She jerks to attention a moment later and says in an ultra-crisp voice, “Yes, hi, I know it’s last-minute, but I need someone to clean an eighteen-hundred square-foot house before Thursday morning.”
Read JUST HIS SECRETARY now!
Read more by Elana
Want something in first person that’s fun and funny? Try a romcom set in Charleston! I write those under my pen name of Donna Jeffries, and the first book in the Southern Roots RomCom series - which is full of enemies to lovers workplace romance with fake dating - is JUST HIS SECRETARY.
* * *
If you liked the slow-burn, tropical beach elements of this book, boy, do I have more books for you! You should start with THE ISLAND HOUSE and fly to Hawaii for some amazing cinnamon roll hero beach romances. It’s free on all retailers and directly from my website.
* * *
Want another fun, tropical romance? Try these later-in-life, second chance at love romances on the beach. THE LOVE LIST is the first book in the Hilton Head Island Romance series.
* * *
Love the small town feel of romance? I have that! They’re cowboy romances, and HOPEFUL COWBOY starts the Hope Eternal Ranch Romance series, where you’ll find rough-around-the-edges cowboys, their redemption, and the women who fall for them.
* * *
Love family saga romance?
Try THE HEARTWOOD SEA, Book 1 in the Carter’s Cove series, which follows five sisters and the beachside inn they own - it’s on an island right next to Hilton Head! It’s free!
About Elana
Elana Johnson is the USA Today bestselling author of dozens of novels, from YA contemporary romance to adult beach romances. Learn about all of her Feel-Good Fiction Romances on her website.
* * *
Find her on Facebook, BookBub, Instagram, TikTok, and Goodreads.
* * *
She also writes under the pen name Liz Isaacson, who is the USA Today bestselling author and Kindle All-Star Author of over 100 Christian cowboy romances. Learn more about Liz and her books at Feel-Good Fiction.
* * *
If you liked this book, please take a few minutes to leave a review. Authors (Elana included!) really appreciate this, and it helps draw more readers to books they might like. Thanks!
THE RELATIONTRIP
by Elana Johnson
* * *
Copyright © 2023 by AEJ Creative Works Inc, Elana Johnson
All Rights Reserved
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Cover by Elefont Books: https://elefontbooks.com
Interior design by AEJ Creative Works Inc.
Elana Johnson, The Relationtrip
