Page 6 of Found by Him (Nashville Security #1)

6

Ella

F orty minutes after I get off the phone with Jack, I’m rubbing my forehead in frustration. Craig sent me the wrong report for an important meeting with Mark and the rest of the finance department, and I’m desperately trying to locate where the correct one was saved. Craig left for an unplanned appointment when I returned to my office with my makeshift lunch of peanut butter crackers. Part of me is relieved he’s gone, but another part is concerned about why he would unexpectedly head out after what he saw on my desk earlier today.

“Gisella Easton?”

I look up from my computer to find a delivery man with a uniform shirt indicating he’s from a nearby local deli. Maggie, the office manager, follows close behind as she points in my direction. “Uh, yes?”

“I have a lunch delivery for you,” the man announces .

“But I didn’t order lunch…” I tell him, head tilting as I take in the situation.

“Ella, I told him he could leave it with me, but he insisted,” Maggie says, then throws the man an annoyed look.

“Look, I was told if I delivered this personally, I would get a huge tip. So here I am, delivering this personally.” He steps into my office and hands me the bag and a bottle of water.

I smile at the man. “Okay, well, thank you so much for delivering this.”

He nods and starts walking away before turning back to me. “The guy who ordered put a note inside.” A big, knowing smile stretches across his face.

Maggie winks at me as I fight the blush burning my cheeks, before leaving me with, “We should get drinks so you can tell me all about this lunch man.”

I laugh as I watch them walk back toward the front of the office. Once they’re out of sight, I open the bag. Curiosity is getting the best of me, and I want to find the note. Inside the bag is a wrapped sandwich, a little container of pasta salad, a pickle, and a cookie. Bewilderment floods me. The only person who knew about my lunch was Jack.

But he wouldn’t have sent me lunch, would he?

“Ella.” Mark’s stern voice from my doorway makes me jump. “Do you have that report?”

I quickly put the bag aside. “Sorry, Mark. I’m still looking for where Craig has those saved.”

Mark gives me a terse nod and returns to the conference room.

I turn back to my computer monitor. A noise of celebration escapes me when I open a folder and find the report. I quickly jot down the file path so this doesn’t happen again while printing off enough copies for everyone in the meeting.

I’m relieved when the rest of the meeting goes off without any further complications. Generally, this meeting is led by Craig, but this isn’t the first time he’s been unavailable and I had to step in for him.

Returning to my office following the meeting, I grab the bag from under my desk. The crackers were definitely not enough, so now I’m starving. As I pull out each item, my stomach growls in response. It all looks delicious. Lastly, I take out a fork and a napkin. But I don’t see the note. Looking into the bag once more, I spot a folded-up receipt caught in the bottom of the bag. Thick, bold writing lines the small piece of paper.

Gisella,

I didn’t know what you liked so I hope this is okay.

Jack

Chalking it up to my stressful day, I’m overcome with gratitude at the thoughtfulness. Those butterflies are back again. Pulling out my phone, I’m surprised not to have a text from Jack.

Me: I got an unexpected delivery today.

Dots appear and quickly disappear. I smile as they reappear.

Jack: I’m glad you got it. I wasn’t sure when I didn’t hear from you.

Me: Sorry…after we got off the phone, things got hectic, and I had a meeting. The food looks delicious. You didn’t have to do that, but it’s extremely nice of you. Thank you.

Jack: You’re welcome Gisella.

I decide I’m not going to correct him this time. Maybe his use of my full first name is growing on me, because it annoys me less this time. I can’t wipe the smile off my face or tame the giddiness in my belly.

There’s one more thing I really want to know, though.

Me: One question, how did you know where I worked?

Jack: G-Wagon has a tracker.

“Of course it freaking does,” I laugh to myself.

By five o’clock, I’m exhausted. The rest of the day continued to have one problem after another. I could barely remember what issue I was trying to resolve at any given moment.

I pack up my bag and amble to the front door. I want desperately to take off my shoes, but I figure that would be unprofessional. As soon as I’m in Jack’s car, though, these shoes are toast.

Maggie is finishing packing up her stuff when I reach her desk. “Hey, Ella! What a day!” She spent part of the afternoon helping me handle everything.

Air whooshes from my lungs as I shake my head. “I’ll be so happy to be home with a glass of wine, that’s for sure!”

“Will your secret lunch man be joining you?” Maggie asks slyly as we enter the parking lot.

I feel myself flushing at the thought. “No, he’s just a friend. I had mentioned I left my lunch in the car when I was on the phone with him, so he was just being nice.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she hums, unconvinced.

I stop at the back of Jack’s G-Wagon. “Have a good night, Maggie.”

Maggie is gawking at me with wide eyes. “Is this a new car?”

I didn’t even think about walking out to a vehicle that costs over six figures or the questions that might arise. “Oh.” I laugh nervously. “This is just a loaner. I was in a fender bender the other day.”

“What the hell kind of rental company loans out cars like that for a car accident?” Maggie exclaims.

Biting my lip, I hold up the cookie that I saved for tonight. “Not a rental company.”

Maggie’s grin splits her face in two, making me chuckle. “Just a friend, my ass.” She starts walking backward toward her car. “Let’s get dinner and drinks this weekend, and you can tell me all about him.”

I smile and wave, agreeing to a night out. I’ve always found it hard to make friends. It usually takes a long time for me to open up and trust, and most people decide waiting around for that to happen isn’t worth it, and the budding friendship peters out.

Since the day she started a year ago, after moving here from out of state, Maggie’s outgoing personality has put me at ease. I love how she speaks her mind, and you always know where you stand with her. But behind her friendly, bubbly personality, there’s a pain in her eyes that tells you that life hasn’t always been kind, and I can relate. While our friendship has been slow to blossom, we’ve hung out multiple times over the last year, and every time, I’m reminded how much I’ve missed by not having close girlfriends.

Lost in thought, I drive home and drag myself to my condo. After I change into pajamas and pour a large glass of wine, I check my phone. My at-ease feeling disappears in an instant as I read the message, the large sip of wine I just swallowed threatening to come back up.

Unknown: Whose car are you driving, you little slut?

They’re back.