Page 83 of All's Well that Friends Well

Don’t trail mud over the rest of your life every time you visit Maura’s grave.

The words haven’t left me, and neither has the mental image. I try to banish them as I stride into the office, clomping heavily up the stairs and down the hall until I turn the corner and enter the work floor. Most of the cubicles are still empty, but a few bleary-eyed employees have arrived; I nod at them, and they nod back. Then I make my way into my own office?—

Where the lights are already on, the stale air smells of strawberry shortcake, and Juliet Marigold sits on my couch.

The skirt is back, I notice, the one she wore the first day. Pink tweed that matches her jacket, under which a silky white button-up peeks out. Her shoes are heels in the same color, bobbing as she crosses her legs and twirls a lock of hair around her finger.

And I know, two seconds after I lay eyes on her, that if I’m not already insane, I will be soon.

“You’re early,” I grunt as she looks up at me. Her face lights up, and she stands quickly.

“Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. “I’m your assistant now. So I thought it would be good to be early.”

I give half a shrug, holding my breath as I walk past her and round the desk. I’ll need to acclimatize myself to being surrounded by strawberry shortcake all the time. “It’s not necessary,” I tell her.

Her shoulders fall, but she nods.

“Well,” she says, rallying once more. She approaches the desk and stands next to it, looking down at me. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” I say. I jerk my chin at the couch. “Sit and amuse yourself while I figure the day out.”

“And then you’ll give me some work?” she says.

“And then I’ll decide how we want to do this. But I just got here,” I say tiredly. “So let me breathe.”

My eyes aren’t on her, but I can see her serious expression as she nods in the corner of my vision. Then she returns to the couch and sits neatly, crossing her legs once more.

I do let myself glance at her as she reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs a pink bag I hadn’t noticed before. From inside she pulls out a small silvery notebook and a pink pen with some sort of fluff on the end. She opens the notebook and jots something down, her teeth digging into her bottom lip in concentration.

“I—” I begin, my voice hoarse as I watch her. “What are you doing?”

“Making a note,” she says. She finishes writing and then snaps the notebook closed.

I stare at her. “What—reporting me to Rodney already?”

A smile twitches at the corner of her lips. “Of course not. I’m putting a reminder for myself. In the mornings you need a bit towarm up before being able to appreciate my delightful personality and exceptional assistant skills,” she says. She threads the fluffy pink pen through the looped binding of her notebook and sets them both on the couch next to her. “So now I know.”

“I’m just tired,” I say, looking back to my computer—which, I realize, I haven’t even entered the password for yet. “I don’t sleep well.”

She hums, sounding interested, but she doesn’t say anything else. In fact, she’s more or less silent for the next twenty minutes, during which time I get everything organized for the day—my to-do list, mostly, things I need to check, people I need to follow up with, and so on. Finally, when I’m ready, I sigh.

“All right,” I say, looking at Juliet. “Here’s what we’ll do.”

Juliet straightens up, her eyes brightening again as she nods.

“Today you’re just going to follow and observe. My routine, my workload—” I break off and then grudgingly add, “Anywhere you see need for improvement.” Because like it or not, I think Rod was right: I need to get my act together.

I’ve never used an assistant before, and certainly never one focused on my relations with other employees, so I’m flying blind. I do have to admit, though, that if I’m being forced to use someone, I’m glad it’s Juliet. She’s comfortable to be with, in her own way—the ice is already broken.

More like melted,a little voice in my mind whispers, and the memory of Juliet’s kiss resurfaces—the way she tasted, the way she pulled me closer?—

“Stop it,” I mutter. I don’t even realize I’ve spoken out loud until Juliet speaks.

“Did you say something?” she says, tilting her head as she looks down at me. The motion causes a few locks of hairto fall over her face, shiny and soft-looking, and I’m grateful when she tucks them behind her ear.

Of course, that only reveals the curve of her neck, which is just as distracting.

Date that girl.It’s Rodney’s voice, his admonition popping most unhelpfully into my mind. I shake my head and ignore the heat creeping over my skin. Then I stand, and she takes a few steps back to give me room.

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