Page 24 of Tempt (Peachwood Falls #1)

M egan

I hit the speakerphone button. “Hello?”

“Hi, Megan. It’s Dorothy from Iyala. How are you?”

I stare at the screen. Sure enough, the number printed in white is one of the Iyala Nails office numbers. What in the world do they want ?

Sure, the company and I parted ways without bad blood.

They gave me a glowing reference as a going-away present, and I know they were disappointed to let me go.

I was disappointed to be let go but also relieved to get out of the city in a strange way.

Nevertheless, it was clear that there was no room for me at Iyala . So why is she calling now ?

“Hey, Dorothy,” I say, looking through the window over the sink. The sky darkens over the treetops. “How have you been?”

“Honestly, I’m a mess over here.” She chuckles. “We just finished an audit, and you know how stressful those are.”

“Yeah. I don’t miss that.”

She sighs. “I was hoping that maybe you did.”

Huh?

I spin around and rest my back against the sink for support. Surely, I misheard her.

My brain kicks into overdrive, working hard to make some sense of the vice president of operation’s sentence. “I was hoping that maybe you did.”

What does that mean?

“Our summer line didn’t hit our goal,” Dorothy says. “To be honest, it didn’t come close.”

My spirits sink. I can imagine how the team felt when they got the final season reports.

We always knew when they were coming in and would practically make ourselves sick for the couple of weeks leading up to it.

The report numbers affect everything—how the next budget is divided, who gets bonuses, and who does not. And, in my case, who gets fired.

Despite having been let go from the company, my heart still hurts for them. I understand why I was let go. At the end of the day, it felt right for me anyway. But I can’t help but be bummed for my former colleagues.

“I’m so sorry, Dorothy. I know that’s extremely hard.”

“Yes, it is. And we’re looking for ways to make up the difference in the spring campaign. Unfortunately, it’s already too late for winter.”

“What’s the winter theme?”

“Frost.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “ We went with Frost .”

“That’s …”

“It’s uninspired, that’s what it is. It’s basic and unoriginal.”

The oven timer beeps. I shut it off and remove a sheet of cookies. “I can’t disagree. We ruled out Frost as a concept nearly every year. Why did you choose to go that direction now?”

“Oh, I don’t know anymore. Our creative team struggles to fine inspiration. They have virtually no ear to the ground, so to speak. They’re flat and one-dimensional. I don’t know if you saw the marketing materials for winter, but they were absolutely boring, Megan.”

I jump at a sound behind me. Chase walks through the door holding two pizzas. He gives me a sideways smile that makes my knees weak.

“Dorothy, can I put you on hold for a moment, please?”

“Of course.”

I tap the mute button.

“I didn’t know you were on the phone,” Chase says, putting the pizzas on the table.

“It’s fine. My old job is calling me to tell me how much they miss me, I think.”

Chase’s eyes darken.

“Did you pick up Kennedy?” My chest tightens. “She’s still at Neve’s. She told me you would get her on the way home.”

“I did tell her that,” he says, running a hand over his head. “But I forgot it was Neve’s birthday today, and she’s having a few girls stay the night. I already told Kennedy she could stay.”

My brows shoot to the ceiling. You mean, we’re alone?

He holds my gaze so long that I shiver.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he says. “And whatever you just baked smells great.”

“Cookies.”

He grins and walks to the mudroom. The lock clicks in place.

A breath of air rushes from my lungs as I hit the mute button again. “I’m sorry, Dorothy. I’m back.”

“I won’t take up much more of your time. But I’m calling to gauge your interest in coming back to us.”

I still.

“This is probably the moment that I admit we were wrong to let you go,” she says. “You have a knack for this industry that is dreadfully missing from our team, and we need you, Megan. We need you desperately.”

What?

“Well,” I say carefully, “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting this. And I have a lot of questions and … wow. This is just very unexpected.”

“I understand. How about this—would you like to email me a list of questions so you can sit down and pull your thoughts together?”

I nod. “Yes. That would be helpful.”

“You have my contact information, and I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, and Megan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m serious. If you have competing offers or have taken another position, I’ll match salaries. I need you.”

I slow blink, blindsided by her admission. “Okay. I’ll email you next week.”

“Have a good weekend,” she says.

“You, too. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

I end the call and stand frozen in place. “What just happened?”

The door swings open, and Chase walks in clad in a pair of gray sweatpants sans shirt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he knows exactly what he’s doing.

I turn away before I drool and take out two plates, glasses, and a Sprite. I hold up a beer, offering it to Chase. He nods and picks up the pizzas.

“You know,” I say, following him into the living room. “I thought we said no lingerie.”

He puts the pizzas on the ottoman. “Huh. I don’t remember that one. Why? Do you want to break out something sexy tonight?”

“Uh, no. Maybe I lumped it in with no cleavage.”

He looks at his chest. “Yeah, well, I don’t have any of that, so I’m good.”

“Gray sweatpants are men’s lingerie. Everyone knows that.”

He snorts, opening the boxes. “Who made up that bullshit?”

“Not me, but I concur.”

Slowly, he stands and runs a hand down his abs. He smirks. “Want me to change?”

“I do not.” I put a slice of pizza on my plate, not looking at Chase, and then sit at one end of the couch. “Fridays are pizza and movies. Is that right?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can go to my room and hang out—give you some space. Or I can even take your mom’s car and?—”

“Respectfully, hush.” He grins. “You’re not going anywhere. Eat your pizza and relax.”

“Yes, sir.”

He rolls his tongue around his mouth but doesn’t say anything.

After grabbing a couple of pieces of pizza and his beer, he sits on the other side of the sofa. He hands me the remote, giving me a look not to argue with him, then gets comfortable.

I have no idea what to watch. So instead, I decide to talk.

“Guess who I had lunch with today?” I say before taking a bite.

“Who?”

“Gavin.”

Unamused Chase is amusing.

“I was at The Wet Whistle before I was supposed to get Kennedy at school?—”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for not telling you she was going home with Neve. It slipped my mind.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. No harm, no foul.”

He grimaces and goes back to his dinner.

“Anyway, I was eating,” I say, “and Gavin walks in. We had an interesting little chat.”

“What about?”

I grin. “Gavin stuff.”

He scoffs. “That sounds like a headache to me.” He takes another bite. “Did Luke come by today?”

“Not while I was here. You know, I’ve yet to meet the infamous Luke.”

“You’re not missing much.”

“I don’t know. You and Gavin are two-for-two on the interesting level.” I open my can of Sprite. “Apparently, I’m interesting too, though, because my former boss, Dorothy, just offered me my job back.”

“ Oh? ” He chews slower. “You gonna take it?”

I sigh, falling back against the pillows. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Did you like working there?”

“Well, that’s tricky. On the one hand, I loved it. I got to travel all over the world and attend events and meet all kinds of people. But, on the other hand … no. I didn’t. Not really—not thoroughly.”

Chase places his beer on the end table. The sound of the can hitting the wood dings through the room.

The light overhead is dim—something I haven’t noticed about the living room until now. The room is pretty dark without the television's light, the sun's rays from the window, or the lamp by the fireplace.

“What was the worst part of the job?” he asks.

“Well, I guess it was just the loneliness of being on the West Coast alone. Mom won’t leave Dallas—which is ridiculous on so many levels. But I get it. Her life is there; she shouldn’t have to uproot all that for me.”

Although, I wish she would.

“But you liked California?” he asks.

“It was lovely. I don’t think it’s for me, per se. So many people. So much garbage. Never a dark sky or a quiet evening—two things I didn’t know I loved until I came here.”

We exchange a grin.

“So what did you love about your job?” he asks before taking another bite.

I set my plate on a box and then curl my feet up under me.

“My favorite thing was the traveling,” I say. “I saw so many incredible places—Morocco, Greece, Peru. Iceland was amazing. Maine and New Hampshire and Vermont in the fall were stunning.”

“Is that something you still want to do?”

I laugh. “Strangely enough, no . It’s odd because it was my favorite part, but I’m … tired, I guess. There’s nothing left that I’m chomping at the bit to see and so much else that I’d rather do.”

“Like what?”

“Fuck if I know. I just know that I feel like I’ve completed that part of my life. So another part has to be open, right?”

He grins before wincing. He rolls his shoulder around, holding it with his other hand.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I whacked my shoulder off a bucket last week.”

“Did you go to the doctor?”

“No, I didn’t go to the doctor,” he says like it’s a harebrained idea. “They’ll just tell me to take an over-the-counter pain reliever or an anti-inflammatory. I don’t need to pay a fifty-dollar co-pay for that.”

“So you sit and suffer. Got it. So smart.”

He gives me a look while continuing to move it in circles.

I start to offer to rub it but stop short of speaking.

If I get my hands on that man …

My stomach clenches. Hard.