Page 27 of Under Daddy's Spell

It had wafted through the ventilation duct minutes during her Saturday morning K-2 reading group. The older kids’ responses were mixed compared to the easily frightened preschoolers. Some giggled. A few simply looked annoyed because they were at the pivotal point in the plot when Pooh Bear, who’d eaten too much honey, was stuck in the door to Rabbit’s hutch, and they couldn’t hear over the noise.Others, mostly the boys, got excited because it sounded like the Incredible Hulk would burst through the wall at any moment.

Tessa had to end the group early when the Hulk only kept getting louder. The parents, who were shopping for books while waiting for their children, gathered them and left empty-handed because they’d thought they’d have plenty of time to pick out a few books, which, of course, they didn’t.

Dealing with the constant problems since the grand opening on Monday had Tessa on edge. With the A/C out and the temperature rising, so was her blood pressure.

She didn’t knock on the office door; her irritation was too great. Instead, she barged in and, not caring how rude it was, blurted out, “As the old Southern expression goes, your manager is as useless as teats on a boar hog. I’m getting nowhere with him, so you’ll have to deal with me, Coop.”

Tessa froze, instantly regretting her impulsive and unnecessarily dramatic entrance when Jordan glanced up, his phone to his ear, and said, “Someone just walked into my office, Jack. I’m going to have to call you back.”

After he ended the call, he dropped his cell on the desk, crossed his arms, and reclined in his chair. He didn’t speak, only stared, looking none too pleased.

Well, neither was she.Her livelihood was on the line because of his gym.

She kept a close eye on her books. Her revenue took a hit when construction began. The noise was a problem, as was the mess out front and all the double-parked delivery trucks that kept shoppers away. But money coming in had taken a nosedive this week when The Body Shop opened its doors.

If things didn’t change,Tournez La Page, opened by her grandparents in the 1950s, wouldn’t survive another month.

“Has Seth filled you in on what’s been going on?”

“He’s my regional manager. We talk every day.” He leaned forward, brawny forearms stacked on the desk. “You’ve had an eventful few days since I’ve been away.”

“I’ve tried to work with him, Jordan, really I have, but things are getting worse, not better.”

“So you mentioned when you came storming in without bothering to knock.”

As set downs went, it scored a direct hit. The tips of her ears burned as she flushed furiously. She shouldn’t have barged into his office and made the comments whoever he’d been talking to surely must have heard. She should apologize. But if she did so now, it would be insincere.

Biting back hersorry, not sorry, Tessa crossed her arms and returned his stare.

He pushed to his feet, an edge of impatience entering his voice. “We’re working to correct the issues you’ve brought to us, Tessa, but change doesn’t happen overnight.”

“It has to. My customers are leaving in droves, which means I’m losing my shirt.”

Bad choice of words because his eyes dipped to her chest. She looked down and immediately dropped her still-crossed arms, which pushed her breasts together, creating a notable amount of cleavage in the V-neckline of her blouse.

With not as much to see, his gaze tracked upward. “Was it necessary to have vehicles towed?”

Indignant, she raised her chin as she defended her actions. “I only reported the ones parked illegally in the two handicapped spaces. I only threatened the others with towing in the strongly worded notes I left on their windshields.”

His eyes flashed, as did his half smile atstrongly worded. She found nothing about this funny, however.

“I’m serious, Jordan.”

He sobered appropriately. “I know, Tessa. I don’t condone the able-bodied taking spaces away from those who need them. Being ticketed and towed is the least they deserve.”

His reasonable reaction took some of the wind out of her sails but only a smidgeon.

“The other spaces,” she went on, “which I pay extra for, are so my elderly customers and mothers with children won’t have to walk for miles.”

“Duly noted, although it’s hardly miles.”

“Have you seen the parking lot? Or walked from the last row in ninety-five-degree heat? Not everyone who enters my store is in tiptop condition with zero body fat and the ability to bench-press a refrigerator; they’re human.” A muscle jumped in his jaw at her sarcasm, but she steamrolled forward. “And something has to be done about the litter. There are smoothie cups everywhere with your logo on them. That can’t be good for your reputation. Then there’s the grunting. Some of the guys are really loud, not to mention scary. The weight benches are along the shared wall, and we hear everything. I have kids in for story hour twice a week. The youngest are three and four years old, Jordan.”

He came around the desk and stopped in front of her. Only a foot separated them. She would have preferred the desk in that space because he was big and intimidating, which he clearly was aware of, but she stood her ground.

“I hear your concerns, Tessa. As did Seth. We’re addressing the problems you’ve brought to our attention.” You’re going to have to be patient. We haven’t been open for two weeks yet. All of our clients are new and are still learning the rules—”

“They’re adults, aren’t they? Even my preschoolers know where the trash goes.”

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