Page 32 of The Relationship Clause

No one speaks to Cynthia Burton that way unless they have a death wish.

“Let’s see, does Thursday afternoon work?” Junie asks.

No response.

“I’m afraid that’s the next available time slot I have for your son.”

“No, that does not work. Either you let me through, or I’ll see to it that you’re fired.”

“I don’t think you can fire me, Ms. Burton, but I’d like to see you try. Only Mr. Ferguson can do that, and he won’t. Want to know why? Because I’m the best freaking secretary he’s ever had. He told me so this morning. Now, either kindly let me pencil you in for Thursday, or you can take your poor manners and leave.”

There’s a long silence. Oh, how I wish I had video surveillance in that little hallway for this.

Then, the silence is pierced by the sound of heels clacking on the tile floor like gunshots. They grow further and further away until they’re completely gone, and finally, after what feels like a long time, someone in the office starts slow clapping.

I’m not kidding.

One slow clap follows another, and soon, there’s a full-on round of applause happening out there. I clear my window in time to see Junie spinning into a curtsy. The applause immediately peters out, I assume because of me, and heads duck back down to their work. Junie’s gaze finds mine, and the smile fades from her face.

I should say something. Thank her. Tell her that she is, in fact, an amazing secretary.

But something inside stops me. I shouldn’t be encouraging this type of behavior. It isn’t professional.

Screw professionalism. She stood up to my mother.

The unspoken compliment rests on the tip of my tongue. I’m about to say it…until my father’s voice pops into my head.

“Above all else, you must be professional with your employees, Owen. Especially those of the opposite gender. Otherwise, you’ll regret it someday. Unless you take after your mother, that is.”

The compliment dies, and the memory leaves me scowling.

“Clear my schedule for the morning, Miss Cousins,” I grunt, turning my back to her. “I don’t want to be disturbed.” Then I darken my windows again, which feels about as loud as slamming a door in her face.

CHAPTER 10

JUNIE

“You mean you can fix it? Seriously? Like, today?”

The man in front of me scratches the whiskers on his chin, looking down at the mess that is my kitchen pipes. I practically begged the guy to get here before I left for work this morning, and I’m so glad I did. This is the best news I’ve had in a while. My luck might finally be turning around.

“The damage is pretty extensive, so I’m not promising it will all get done today, but I can start.”

I fold my arms over my chest, trying to contain my excitement. “So, no more showering at the gym?”

Mario—no, seriously, that’s his name—chuckles and stands up, stretching his back. He also twirls his dark mustache—I’m not even kidding about that either. “You might have to take one or two more showers at the gym, but I don’t think it’ll take longer than that.”

Yes!!!

This time, I don’t hold back. I do a little happy jig right then and there to the amusement of Mario the Plumber.

Happiness flooding my system, I go straight to Pete’s. Because when one receives the excellent news that they’ll no longer have to keep using copious amounts of dry shampoo in between visits to a communal shower of questionable cleanliness, one celebrates with pastries.

After a quick catch up with him and Marlee—they are very invested in my work life right now—I literally run to the office. Mr. Ferguson has been extra growly and grumpy ever since that run-in with his mom, so being late is out of the question. Heck, being on time isn’t an option either. I need to be on my best behavior, which means I need to be early.

Did I think the whole bit with his mom might possibly win me some brownie points? Yes. I was amazing. The way I handled that woman is probably one of my proudest moments. Despite the absolute terror pumping through my veins, I stood my ground and pretended I was as big and bad as she was. And you know what? It worked. Ever since then, she’s called once (shortest and most curt phone call ever, BTW) to schedule a meeting with Mr. Ferguson, and I haven’t seen her since.

That means I won. That also should have meant Mr. Ferguson would be happy with me. But instead… Ugh. I don’t know. Maybe I completely misread their relationship? Maybe he secretly liked her random drop-ins? I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years, but what other explanation can there be for the cold shoulder he’s been giving me?

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