Page 22 of Pucking Wild

“What? Don’t try and cover up one bad financial decision with another one. Mars, you don’t want me as your director anyway. I don’t know a damn thing about sea turtles.”

“Yes, but that’s not really necessary in the director role, is it?” he challenges. “What’s needed is a sound business mind capable of scaling up a brand, you said so yourself.”

“I’m flattered,” I admit, hoping it shows in my face. “Truly, Mars. And it honestly does sound like fun. But my life is in Cincinnati. My job, my apartment, my…family,” I add, my voice faltering a bit.

“I understand,” Mars says at last.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could say yes,” I admit. “Six months in Florida, are you kidding? A little beach air in my hair, all that delicious fried shrimp. Not to mention I miss Rachel like a piece of me has been cleaved away. She’s my best friend, Mars.”

“I know.”

“You three better be so fucking good to her,” I say, pointing a finger at him.

“We will,” he says, getting to his feet.

“You better,” I challenge, rising to my feet too. “Or Iamgonna come down there to Jacksonville. And I’m going to chop you up into tiny little bits and feed you to those damn sea turtles.”

He smirks. “Noted.” Then he holds out a hand to me. “Come. We’ve stayed away long enough.”

I snatch up my shoes, slipping my finger through the straps. Righting myself, I let out a little breath. He’s right. It’s time to go back in there. For Mars, it’s the start of something new. For me, it’s the end. He gets to walk in there and say ‘hello’ to his new wife. I get to walk in and say a tearful ‘goodbye’ to my friend, the woman who has been the only home I’ve ever known.

Reaching out, I take his hand.

8

“Hey, Tess!” My assistant Rhonda slips out from behind her desk as I approach.

“Hey, girl,” I call. “You have a good Christmas?”

“Well, Steve’s parents were in town,” she replies, which is answer enough.

I unwind my thick scarf one-handed, holding my coffee with the other. “Yeesh. How bad was it?”

“Wendy informed me that she thinks my children are going to hell because I wouldn’t let her baptize them when they were babies,” she replies.

“Seriously?” I cry, handing her my coat.

“Yep.” She hangs my coat and scarf up with hers. “Oh, and she accused me of stealing sleeping pills from her purse. Twice. Turns out she had them in her makeup bag the whole time.”

“Oh god. Is she gone, at least?”

“Yes, thank God. They left for Akron this morning.”

“That’s a relief,” I say with a sympathetic grimace. I pick up my bag and coffee from the edge of her desk.

“Hey,” she calls as I turn towards my office door. “Your meeting with Dalton Holdings Limited got pushed to 10:00 a.m. Some HR thing was just scheduled at the last minute. You’re meeting with them at 9:00 a.m.”

I glance over my shoulder, lowering my voice so the other secretaries in this suite can’t hear us. “Do we know what it’s about?”

“No idea. I just saw your name was added to the meeting invite. Dale is running the show.”

I fake a snore, which earns me a soft laugh from Rhonda.

Dale Eubanks is the head of HR for Powell, Fawcett, and Hughes, and a duller man has never drawn breath.

“Give me ten minutes to charge the batteries,” I say, gesturing with my coffee hand. “Then you and I can head down together.”

“Oh, I have a mandatory accounting training,” she replies. “But…I can probably get out of it if you need me—”

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