Page 5 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

Rodney downs his glass of water in five seconds flat before setting the glass down on the wooden table and turning his grizzled gaze on me. I can see it in his eyes: I’ve pissed someone off.

“What?” I say, even before he’s told me. My voice is more defensive than it should be, considering I don’t even know the problem yet.

“Did you know that someone from corporate came to visit your branch last week?” he finally says.

I scoff at this, because “corporate” is a relative term. Is Explore growing as a company? Yes. But is it public? Do we have thousands upon thousands of employees all over the country? Are the headquarters in a New York skyscraper? No.

“I didn’t see anyone,” I say.

“It was Fuller,” Rodney goes on, ignoring my skeptical noise—which might get even louder at this news.

Fuller is the company’s head of merchandising, and we don’t get along very well.

He’s got a superiority complex that makes me want to scream; he thinks I’m too young for the position I’m in, too close to Rodney, and he’d love to leave behind the small business mindset Rod has worked so hard to maintain.

He thinks Rod is a fool for keeping things as hometown and personal as he has.

“I put up with him because he’s good at his job,” Rod says now, shooting me a look . “But ever since I sent you here, he’s been waiting for a reason to pull you out and install someone he thinks is better suited here in Lucky.”

“Some he likes, you mean.”

Rod shrugs. “He gives me regular earfuls about shifting directions, and I know he would love an inconsequential petri dish like Lucky to test a few things.”

“So tell him no,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re in charge.”

Another shrug from Rod, slower this time. “I won’t be around forever. If the majority wants a change, we’ll end up changing anyhow. There’s some sense in what Fuller wants—what some of the others are pushing for.”

I just grit my teeth at this. More mass-produced stock, cheaper for us because of the lower quality; that’s what Fuller and some of the rest want.

They want to get rid of relationships with smaller local businesses we have in place, switching instead to giant wholesalers.

I understand the appeal on a surface level, but I’m not sure I agree with the idea as a whole.

“Anyway, now he’s talked to your employees,” Rod goes on, “and they had some pretty bad stuff to say about you.”

I throw myself down in the chair across from Rod.

“I’m shocked,” I mutter. And it’s actually partly true.

The Lucky office has been falling behind in their quarterly sales targets, but it’s more than that; they’re slow on reports and efficiency, too, to the extent that Rodney sent me here to figure out the problem.

And I found it: the workers are too friendly.

The businesslike culture creeping into Explore?

It hasn’t hit the Lucky branch yet. Normally I would approve of that, but the pendulum is swinging too far in the opposite direction here.

The Lucky workers are too chummy, unprofessional, too close to effectively keep a business running.

The sales department is too laid back, and I suspect they’re not hitting the community’s real needs, either.

But managers don’t tell people what to do, and when they do, no one listens, because they’re all friends who laugh about it later.

It’s not even a clique thing, or an exclusivity problem. They’re all just… friends.

Though not fans of me, apparently, no matter how friendly they might be.

“You’re not shocked,” Rodney says, a wheezing bark.

“No one is. But it won’t fly. You need to be personable, Luca.

You can’t keep making everyone mad all the time.

No one else has the faith in you that I do.

” His beady eyes narrow on me. “And no one in the Lucky branch likes you, either. They’re all scared of you.

Regardless of how long we keep you as the manager, you’ve still decided to move here. These people will be your neighbors.”

I shift uncomfortably, though I try not to let Rodney see.

He’s right; when he first asked me to come and take over this branch, I had already been considering a move further north.

I was splitting my time between different branches and the headquarters in Denver, and I was tired of all the running around.

I needed someplace closer to Boulder. So after looking into Lucky—and, more specifically, into their rental and real estate prices—I decided to make the switch.

“So get your act together,” he goes on. “It’s a tough argument for me to make that a jerk like you should keep this assignment when people are throwing around words like toxic environment and tyrannical dictator.

” He pauses again, and a wave of granite determination passes over his features—like he’s steeling himself.

“You’re going to be making some changes.

Changes you’re going to hate,” he adds, two grunted sentences that send a shiver of foreboding down my spine.

“What changes?” I say, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I mean,” he replies. “You can’t stay here if you don’t clean up your act. I don’t want to hear about it,” he adds severely when I open my mouth to protest, because I know he’s right; whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like it.

So I sigh and then prepare myself. That headache in my temples is definitely growing. “Just tell me,” I say. I can already hear the defeat in my voice. “What do I have to do?”

“First,” he says, and I swear just that one word has me holding my breath. “You will be hosting an office breakfast next weekend.”

I stare at him, my mind suddenly blank.

His wiry brows twitch. “Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps when I’m still unable to speak.

“You’ll be in charge of nothing. All you have to do is show up.

Not that it wouldn’t be good for you, mind,” he grunts, “but I’d rather you spend your time on the branch’s problems. Susan will handle everything. Understood?”

“No,” I say as I try to remember who Susan is; a stern older woman flashes into my mind, one Rod relies on for a smattering of loose ends. “I don’t understand. What’s a breakfast got to do with?—”

“You’re creating a sense of community,” he says. “Several months too late, frankly.” Then he points out the window to the backyard. “It will be out there. So you’ll just turn up, be personable, so on and so forth. Something to show you’re willing to mend fences.”

I’m not sure I am willing to mend fences, if it means hosting breakfast at my house.

“Second,” Rod goes on, his voice more severe now, probably because he can tell I’m going to protest. “Pending the hiring of a suitable candidate, you will be required to work with a PR assistant,” he says.

“A PR…”

“Assistant.” He nods. “Someone who will follow you around and preview every email, every memo—someone who will help you smooth over all the feathers you’ve ruffled.

” He pauses, possibly to watch the dawning horror on my face.

“You don’t have to be loved or even liked by everyone.

But you can’t piss everyone off, either.

This is a tiny town. If your subordinates don’t feel like you’re one of them, they’re not going to work well for you, and they might not respect whoever you choose to take over when things are back on track, either. Take it or leave it, kid.”

Kid. That’s the word that does it for me—the word that tells me how serious he is, how badly I’ve apparently screwed up without even realizing it.

I’m nineteen again, a freshman in college, careening toward self-destruction after the death of my parents, and Rodney is once again swooping in to give me a good kick in the pants and get me back on track.

I could argue. I could fight back. And I want to; my irritation is running high, coursing through my veins, and there are words on the tip of my tongue that could do some damage.

But I know they won’t do any good. I can see it in the set of Rod’s face, the stubborn line of his mouth and the shrewd look in his eyes. This condition is nonnegotiable.

For better or for worse—almost certainly for worse, in fact—I will be receiving an assistant. Someone spineless who will kowtow and simper and suck up to everyone in the Lucky office so that they’re willing to put up with me.

“You know these things make me want to dive off a cliff,” I say flatly as my stomach sours. “Breakfast? An assistant? ”

“I know,” Rodney grunts. “And I don’t care. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to. But you’re coming close to burning bridges, and I expect better from you.”

“And how long do I have to keep this—this assistant? ” The word is poison in my mouth.

I work better alone; I always have. I keep to myself. I don’t feel the need to explain myself or justify my actions. Having someone constantly nearby is going to be torture.

“Undecided,” Rodney says. “But don’t plan on anything less than a month. Not unless I see some big changes. I’ll be personally monitoring you.” He pauses and then softens, so slightly I might be imagining it. “This is a big one, Luca. This one is important.”

“Why?” I say wearily. “Why can’t I just…promise to do better?”

But he doesn’t answer.

I swallow down my simmering frustration, bite my tongue to keep in the words that want to escape. Rod’s doing what he can for me, even if I don’t understand. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like. That’s just part of life.

When a light knock at the door sounds, I’m almost grateful. My head reels as I try to reconcile myself to my new working situation, and I’m barely paying attention as I make my way to the front door. I fling it open, so preoccupied that I don’t give any thought to who it might be?—

But the fresh spring air that gusts into my face carries the scent of sweet strawberries, and when my eyes meet hers, somehow I’m not surprised. Because of course it’s Juliet Marigold. Of course it is. Who else would it be?

She’s still wearing her pink and white outfit, but the book she took from her old bedroom is nowhere to be seen. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she stands there on the doorstep, fidgeting, and when she speaks, her voice is slightly out of breath.

“Me,” she says. Then she fixes a bright smile on her face. “You should hire me.”

I blink at her as, from behind me, I hear Rodney’s slow shuffle toward us. “What?” I say.

She inhales deeply, and somehow that smile never wavers. “You should hire me,” she repeats. “To be your assistant.”