Page 6 of It's Not PMS, It's You

“Just tell me.” Dee took a sip of her tea.

I sighed. “I hurt myself in the spinning class trying to remove . . . a wedgie.”

Dee’s eyes went wide and tea sprayed from her mouth straight onto her computer monitor. She coughed and snorted, her laugh building until it became hysterical. I could no longer see her since her camera was obviously covered with tea. Waiting for her to get it out of her system was my only option. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take all morning.

“At least your problems are behind you!” Dee laughed harder as she started to come back into view, furiously wiping her monitor like she wanted nothing more than to see how embarrassed I was.

I’m glad somebody thought it was funny because it wasn’t to me.

After she finished wiping her computer screen, she wiped her eyes. “You made my day. I’m not sure if I ruined my monitor, but it was worth it.”

“I’m glad my pain is your gain. May I go now?”

Dee nodded, her bottom lip quivering from trying to hold in more laughter. “Keep me updated on Amsterion, and good luck.”

I nodded and disconnected the video conference, knowing luck would not help me one bit.

I could attribute the success in my career to hard work, determination, experience, and knowing how to deal with men’s super-sized egos. It was also about having the right information available to make the right decision at the right time.

Teddy Markston was a brilliant businessman who believed in honesty and integrity.

Stewart Peters was a lying, cheating douchebag.

That was all the info I needed to make things right in Phoenix.

Chapter Two

NICK

“Careful!” I said to Brandon, who was laughing and on the verge of dropping the brand-new french door he was carrying to my truck. “If you drop it, you’re paying for it.”

I pointed at the door and gave him my best serious look, even though I could never get mad at him. He was one of the nicest and hardest working guys I had ever met. I was lucky to have him working for me.

“Relax. I’m not going to drop it.” Brandon continued to laugh but got a better grip on the door. “And it’syourfault. Don’t tell me things like that when I’m in the middle of something that requires my attention. That’s hysterical.”

I had just mentioned to him that a woman in my spinning class fell off her bike while she was trying to remove a wedgie.

“Maybe she was falling foryou.”

I shook my head. “Not funny.”

Brandon was a rare man, a hopeless romantic. They weren’t very easy to spot in the wild, but he assured me that there were many more out there if I looked close enough.

Maybe I needed to buy binoculars.

“Is she okay?” Brandon asked.

I nodded. “She’ll be fine. She injured her wrist, but I’m guessing the bruised ego is what’s bothering her. Talk about embarrassing. Hang on.” I opened the tailgate of my truck and stepped out of Brandon’s way. “Okay, go for it.”

Brandon laid the edge of the second door on top of the first one and slid it into the bed of my truck. Then he closed the tailgate and wiped his hands on his jeans.

We were headed to a client’s place to get the key to her house, but had to make a stop to pick up custom-ordered french doors for the job.

Brandon was my employee, even though he felt more like an equal partner because of everything he did, including the grunt work that my doctor ordered me not to do. The same doctor who told me the spinning class was okay for me.

It didn’t make much sense for a forty-five-year-old man who had gone through what I had gone through, but maybe that’s why I was a landscape designer and not a doctor.

Brandon leaned against the back of my truck. “You didn’t ask her out then?”