Page 19 of In Good Company

I bring my rental to a stop and roll down the window to punch in the key code. It takes a moment, but a loud beep rings out from the tiny box before the gates push open, revealing a neatly paved driveway and one of the most stunning homes I’ve ever seen.

“You’re joking,” I whisper, stepping on the gas before the gates close on me and my rental gets crushed because I’m too busy gaping at my new place of employment.

The house looks like it was pulled right out of a catalogue. It has gray siding and navy blue shutters that appear to be freshly painted. Even the double front doors are painted the same vibrant navy blue.

Every window on the first floor has a flower box attached to it. Inside sit beautiful arrangements of flowers that bring even more character to the stunning home. I pull my car off to the side, parking next to a large black SUV.

Grabbing my phone from the cup holder, I read over the email from Cal’s assistant that lays out all the details of the job. Apparently, the house has a chef’s kitchen, something I’m thrilled to see in person. Cooking for private events here in the Hamptons has given me the chance to work in drop-dead gorgeous kitchens, but just by looking at the outside of thishouse, I’m fairly confident this kitchen is going to be the best one I’ve worked in yet.

And it’s mine for the summer—kind of.

I’m busy memorizing the email from Cal’s assistant when the sound of a knock against my car window startles me.

“Fuck!” I scream, my hand immediately covering my mouth when my eyes meet Cal’s.

He smiles. “Well, good morning to you too, Lucy.”

TEN

CAL

Lucy lets out a yelp as her hand drops from her mouth to her chest. She pushes the Bronco door open. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to curse…you just scared the shit out of me.” Her eyes go wide as she realizes another curse word slipped out. “I mean, you really scared me.”

I pull my earbud from my ear and give her a wide smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It was just a bit of a surprise to see you. Wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon.”

Her breaths still seem quick from the scare, but she manages a timid smile in my direction. “I wanted to give myself plenty of time to prepare. I hope you don’t mind…” Her words trail off for a moment, and so does her smile.

“It doesn’t matter to me at all.” I point to the bags of food in her passenger seat. “Need any help bringing those in?”

Lucy looks toward the passenger seat. “No, I can get them. I don’t want to make you help me. You can finish…” She looks back in my direction, her eyes traveling over me for a moment. “Your run?” Her words come out as more of a question.

I look down at my shorts and old college T-shirt. “I try to get out every morning I can for a run along the beach.”

Time seems to tick by slowly as her gaze roams my body farlonger than necessary. She focuses on where the fabric of my shirt clings to my skin from sweat. When she realizes she’s been caught, her cheeks turn the perfect shade of pink.

“The weather is perfect this morning,” she rushes to get out. She manages to keep eye contact with me for a few seconds before the embarrassment of getting caught is too much for her, and her gaze whips to the bags in her passenger seat.

I let out a slow chuckle. “Yes, it is.” I don’t say anything else, instead choosing to prop my elbow against the door of her car as she gathers all her things from the front, her cheeks still flushed. She seems to be so reactive. It’s amusing. I can’t quite put my finger yet on why I find her so fascinating, but I’ve been looking forward to her first day all week.

Lucy sticks a leg out of the Bronco to get out, but I step closer, caging her in slightly as I reach for the bags. “Let me bring these in.”

She keeps a grip on them, being stubborn just like she was the first night I saw her at Laurent’s. Tiny frown lines appear on her forehead with her concern. “You’re my boss. I can’t make you take in your own groceries.”

I scoff, annoyed she thinks I’m incapable of helping. Or maybe it’s that I’m annoyed she thinks I’ll walk inside empty-handed as she carries everything in on her own. Either way, she’s barely begun her first day, and she’s already finding ways not to listen to me. My teeth grind together with frustration as I attempt to take a deep breath. “I’m fully capable of helping whether you work for me or not.”

When I reach out to grab the bags from her a second time, she lets me. Her mouth opens and shuts as she tries to find the right words. Her shoulders sag in defeat as her eyes meet mine. “It just doesn’t seem right to make you carry in food when it’s my job to do it.”

I take a step back, allowing her to step out of the Bronco. “Itdoesn’t seem right to make you carry in bags of food when I have two perfectly good hands that can help you.”

Lucy grabs a bag I hadn’t seen from the floorboard of the passenger seat. The way she clutches it to her chest tells me it’d be best if I didn’t argue and at least allowed her to carry that one in.

“Why do I feel like working for you is going to be incredibly different than any other chef job I’ve taken?” she asks, her tone more playful than I was expecting.

I can’t help but smile at the easy way she gives me shit. I think that’s why I’m fascinated by her. People rarely talk back to me, yet she does it so effortlessly—even if it makes her cheeks turn a little pink when she does. I’d guess that she’s not typically defiant, and that smart mouth of hers is reserved just for me. “Because I’m better than anyone else you’ve worked for, obviously. Wickedly charming. Incredibly handsome. Pays well…”

“You do pay well,” Lucy responds casually. She follows behind me as I walk to the side entrance. I want to give her a full tour of the house, but the door I lead her to is closest to the kitchen, so we can put her bags down before doing anything else.

“Weird you didn’t mention anything about what else I said…”

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