Page 6 of Love From the Ashes

“That was the owner’s son, Reid Morgan. He’s the man who now runs the company. I’d be shocked if he didn’t fire you.” Della walked away, muttering something under her breath.

I leaned my head into my palm. I’d been threatened and looked down on my entire life. I fought like a starved wolf to survive and knew it had made me sarcastic and bitter. But it was no excuse for what I had done. Why couldn’t I learn to curb my tongue for once? I desperately needed this job, and my rude behavior was about to get me fired. Devastated, I wiped my cheek as I glanced toward the conference room. Reid Morgan was watching me through the glass. I put my head down, not wanting him to look at me, and sorted the mail that had come in this afternoon.

I was sitting at my desk an hour later when the conference room door opened, and the attendees exited the meeting. I looked away, pretending not to notice, while I sorted a stack of documents that needed filing. Sensing someone standing by my desk, I looked up, meeting Reid Morgan’s eyes.

“Well, Sofie Fletcher, I can’t say it was a pleasure, but it was certainly interesting to meet you. I look forward to our next conversation.” Mr. Morgan tipped his head at me. Then he briskly walked toward the door.

Confused by his words, I turned to stare at him, catching a glimpse of Krista watching us from across the office. He’d said he looked forward to our next conversation. Did that mean I wasn’t getting fired?

CHAPTER 3

Reid Morgan

Itook thestack of mail from my in-basket on the counter and placed it next to my computer. I figured I’d sort and distribute it right after lunch. I’d been with the company for two weeks, and with the help of Trudy’s SOP manual, I was doing fine, or at least I thought I was. Nearing the noon hour, I figured I’d leave for lunch a minute or two early so I could avoid Della. She and Adam had intruded on my lunch hour every day since I’d been here. Rather than eat my sandwich in the courtyard, where I was an easy target, I was going to splurge for once and have lunch at Beck’s Bakery and Café. Although I couldn’t afford it, my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had become unappealing, and I needed a break from Della and Adam.

Reaching the restaurant fronting the courtyard, I got in line to order. The place was busy with several people in front of me, the line quickly growing until it reached the door. I was browsing the menu written in chalk on the giant board above the counter when the person standing behind me took several steps forward. Whoever it was had taken one step too close for my comfort. I was about to turn around and say something snarky when I heard the person’s voice behind me.

“The rotisserie chicken pita is good. That’s what I’m getting.”

I recognized the man’s voice. It was the one I couldn’t seem to avoid. I spun around and arched my brow at Mr. Morgan. “In that case, I’ll get the barbeque beef sandwich.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“No, I don’t. You tried to run me down at the street corner, remember? Thankfully, you had someone driving you. Otherwise, I might be dead. Your driving is probably as bad as your manners.”

Mr. Morgan narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. “Considering you’re the one who stepped into the street against a red light, your comment is hardly justified.” After a short pause, the corner of his mouth visibly twitched. “You know what, stick your tongue out.”

“Excuse me?” I stared at him, shocked at his request. He had to be slightly crazy.

“I want to see if your tongue is as pointed as your words.” He chuckled when he heard me suck in my breath.

“I’m not sure if anyone has told you, but you’re not funny.”

“Hmm. I could have sworn I was,” Mr. Morgan said, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.

I held my tongue and spun around. I had a whole vocabulary of words that were dying to come flying out of my mouth. I tapped my foot on the floor while I waited in line. I needed the two people in front of me to speed it up. I wanted to get away from the arrogant jerk.

The man in front of me finished ordering his lunch, and I stepped to the counter.

“Hi, can I get the barbeque beef sandwich and water?”

“Sure.” The young man placed a cup on the counter. “You can get water from the beverage dispenser. Your order comes to fifteen dollars and sixty-five cents.”

“I’ll pay for her order. You can add it to mine,” Mr. Morgan said from behind me.

“Could you ignore his request, please? I’m perfectly capable of paying for my lunch.”

The employee nodded at me before taking the twenty-dollar bill I handed him.

“Hang on. I want to pay for your lunch. Consider it my olive branch for, as you so nicely put it, trying to run you down.”

“More like poison ivy,” I said under my breath. I turned to Mr. Morgan. “I’d prefer not to owe you or anyone else any favors. It keeps misunderstandings from happening.”

“Fine. I was trying to be nice.”

“Thank you.” I took my change and a numbered stand from the employee and grabbed my cup from the counter. “Excuse me.” I walked past Mr. Morgan and searched for a table. Seeing a gentleman getting up from a prime spot by the window, I hurried toward him, intending to snag it before someone else could. I had just gotten settled when Mr. Morgan was standing there, looming over me.

“Since you wouldn’t allow me to buy your lunch, may I join you at your table?”

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