Page 5 of Tempting Frey
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FREY
Chickie filled the doorway to my office. “You have a minute?”
“Sure.”
I gestured for him to enter, and he closed the door. He rocked on his heels, glancing around distractedly, as he always did when he had something to say but didn’t know where to begin. Then he grabbed his belt, adjusting it under his respectable potbelly, and cleared his throat. I waited for him to get it out.
“Ollie’s back in town,” he finally said. “I brought him home from college last night.”
I’d seen them arrive.
Oliver had been sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down, squinting into the evening sun. His honey-and-copper-colored hair had fluttered in the wind, and he’d been smiling like he’d learned things I’d better not know about. The now-familiar tingle of apprehension had run up my spine.
The awkward teen was long gone. Oliver had grown into a confident, breathtakingly beautiful man of twenty-two. Wehadn’t spoken in four years, and he’d never looked at me twice during his short visits home, which was exactly what I’d wanted.
I’d done my best to make myself scarce when he’d been around to spare us both any embarrassment, or so I’d been telling myself. But of course, I’d noticed him. The last time, when he was at home for spring break and appeared at Jordy’s, I’d been blinded by him.
I didn’t have a word for the strange mix of fear and longing I felt when I thought of him. I didn’t want to know what it meant.
Chickie squinted at me, and I kept my face carefully neutral. “Phil must be over the moon to have him home.”
“We both are, but that’s the thing. He’s looking for work in Green Peaks, and I’m sure he’ll find something soon. He graduated at the top of his class and had the best internships and everything. But I know he’d be happier here, in Beauville.”
Fuck me, I knew where this was headed. “More like you’ll be happier to have him close.”
“No shit, I will! Three of my kids have moved away, but the last one could stay.” My friend put his hands on his hips and glowered at me. “But this isn’t me asking for a favor. This is me doingyoua favor. Ollie’s sharp and a hard worker. You’d be lucky to have him.”
Of course, anyone would know that Oliver, with a fresh degree in economics, should replace Hughes at the town hall. But I couldn’t work with him. Seeing him every day? Spending time in the same room? What if he still smelled like…
“I hear you, and you’re right, but I can’t decide this myself. And he must send an application.” I pretended to search through some papers on my desk. Just like I knew Chickie’s every tell, he knew mine. I had to get him out of here before he noticed I was being weird.
“I spoke to Jesse and the guys on the council, and they got excited like kids at a fair. What’s with that sour face, Frey? Thisis my son we’re talking about. Besides, I thought you’d be glad we have young talent returning home.”
I couldn’t back out of this, could I? I had nothing against giving Oliver a job. He was probably the most qualified for it anyway. Hell, with his fancy college degree, he was overqualified. But I’d been doing my best to avoid him, and now I’d have him right where I could smell him every damned day. A flash of pale skin framed by turquoise lace flickered through my mind, and I cringed inwardly.
Calm down. It’s been years.
Oliver was an educated, grown man. With his face and confidence, he’d surely dated plenty at college. He’d long forgotten about me and would be just as eager as I was to pretend nothing had ever happened between us.
“If he applies, the job is his,” I said, my tone remarkably steady. “It would be even without you asking.”
“Thanks, man.” Chickie put his hat back on and flicked the edge. “I’m going to the diner for lunch. Meatloaf?”
I could see the greasy plate in front of me. Bert made the mashed potatoes creamy and poured the grease from the pan over them. You could also get extra gravy on the side.
“You know you want it.” My friend winked. “My treat.”
“I can pay for my lunch, Chickie. You wouldn’t want folks to think you’re bribing me to give your kid a job, huh?”
He laughed. “Not much of a bribe. C’mon.” He patted his belly. “I’m starving.”
We crossed the street to our tiny diner, and Chickie gestured at Bert from the door.
“I know, chief. Meatloaf, extra gravy. And you, Frey?”
“Same. Thanks, Bert.”
