Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2) Read online

  “His desk is already cleared out. He must have known on Sunday that he wasn’t planning to come back. You’re sure he didn’t say anything to you?” Tommy’s suspicious nature was legendary in the office.

  “Literally the only thing Aidan said to me on Sunday was, ‘Got any plans for your off days?’ And I told him I was going to read the rest of A Discovery of Witches and bake bread. That’s it.”

  Tommy huffed in a way that suggested he wasn’t impressed by her weekend plans — but then, she hadn’t mentioned to him or to Aidan that she also took an advanced combative self-defense course on Mondays and traditional taekwondo plus an MMA sparring session on Tuesdays, and taught classes both days as well. Aidan had abhorred violence of any sort, no matter how necessary and justified, and Tommy made it known on a regular basis that he admired women like Lila who “didn’t need to work out to look good” and entertained themselves on weekends by going out to restaurants and clubs. He’d hate the thought that Nell might be stronger than he was, which would likely make him even more poisonous in her vicinity. Nell would much rather stay invisible around the office as a homebody bookworm and bread-baker, hiding her strength under the business casual clothes she hated, even if she’d overheard Tommy referring to her as Chunky Booty.

  Quit the damn job, Amy had said to her once. It sounds like a horrible place. You could get something else. But she was trapped, as so many people got trapped, by a salary she’d worked up to within the company — from booking support to junior booking agent to senior booking agent, then she’d been promoted across departments to property assistant and then to property manager — and it was all just specific enough to be not very transferable in terms of skills and position. She’d have to start over completely, rent would become unaffordable without a roommate, and she’d have a hard time paying her martial arts training fees. No.

  “—all going to need to pull together and cover Aidan’s accounts until we can replace him, right?” Tommy was saying, and Nell nodded and tried to look appropriately concerned. “Good. Thank you.” Tommy’s satisfied tone puzzled Nell for a moment, then he plunked one of the folders he was holding onto her desk. Oh, no. He can’t possibly… “I’m giving you Champagne Cascades for the moment, and Scott or Trina can take Applegarth Cabins. Unless you’d rather have Applegarth?”

  “But… I already have two properties, and no assistant. Couldn’t Scott and Trina take these ones?” Nell didn’t believe in the word can’t, but it was perilously close to forming in her mind at the thought of a third property to handle.

  Tommy gave her a grimace of impatience. “I’m asking you, Nell. You’re taking one of these. Which one?”

  Nell swallowed her frustration. As usual with Tommy, she had to force a smile — he liked to see women smile, he’d said, and he had a way of making life difficult if you didn’t accommodate him. “Champagne Cascades is fine.” She knew nothing about either property, as Tommy would know if he thought about it for a flipping minute. “But I haven’t got an assistant right now. I really will need some help managing three.”

  “You’re on salary, Nell. That means you stay until your work is done, right? No running home at five. But I’ll get you an assistant. In fact, I have an idea about that…” His words trailed off as he left her office.

  “Okay, so where is Champagne Cascades?” Nell muttered to herself, picking up the folder and opening it. “Huh. Up near the Canadian border. Romantic cottages for two, no kids or singles. One of those.” She read on. Rentals were at a higher price point, so this was obviously more luxurious than she was used to handling with Winter Pine and Secret Creek. Would it be interesting or just a hassle? The site manager’s name was Jessalyn Roberts. A woman? Nell didn’t know that Wildforest hired female site managers at all — she’d only ever dealt with men like Brian and Stu. What would this Jessalyn be like?

  Soft chimes sounded over the office PA system, letting everyone know it was noon. They were allowed to leave the office for lunch as long as they were back before the chimes sounded again at one, as if they were at school, not adults working in an office. As soon as she heard the lunch chimes, Nell whisked her purse out of the desk drawer where she kept it and bolted for the stairs. Sure, it would be financially more responsible to bring a packed lunch, but then she’d have to eat at her desk and would have no escape all day from the Wildforest dungeon.

  It was a matter of principle for her to get down the stairs in under three minutes, without running.

  There was a little vegetarian café down the block from the office, barely a hole in the wall, it was so tiny — just a counter and a couple of tables, and some tall stools by the window. Nothing fancy, but Nell could eat in peace for half an hour. The tomato and avocado sandwich was her favorite, but she also liked the cucumber and cream cheese one, and egg salad some days for variety.

  Refreshed, and a little more tolerant of the circus that was her workplace, Nell returned as usual just before the one o’clock chimes. On her desk was a yellow Post-It note from Tommy — Assistant confirmed, will start ASAP. No other details were provided, so she’d just have to wait. But at least help was coming.

  She sent off an email to Jessalyn Roberts, introducing herself as the new property supervisor and inquiring about paper supplies at Champagne Cascades since the folder had no recent inventory report. And then Lila transferred a call to her desk with the warning, “Incoming hot top, Nell.” A hot top was the interoffice term for an actively angry guest.

  Nell spent the next forty-five minutes listening to an enraged woman who claimed that Brian at Winter Pine had been rude and disrespectful, and ended up offering her a voucher for a night at Secret Creek to make amends. Forty-five minutes she’d never get back. And while it was quite possibly true — Brian was, in general, a rude and disrespectful sort of person, though she believed he mostly held his attitude in check around the guests to keep his job — Nell also had the feeling that the woman was milking a probably mild incident to get freebies in compensation, so it galled her a bit to play into that game. And now she’d have to call Brian and find out what happened from his point of view.

  About twenty-four hours later, Nell returned from lunch to find another of Tommy’s yellow Post-It notes on her desk: My office — 1:30 pm. Everyone else at Wildforest seemed able to use the interoffice calendar and messaging app to arrange meetings, but Tommy liked his Post-Its, or maybe he just liked that one couldn’t decline or reschedule them.

  Feeling all the relaxation of her lunch break boiling away, Nell bent down to grab her favorite vanilla spice rooibos from the tin box where she stashed her tea in a bottom drawer. She usually waited until later in the afternoon, but today she’d need it to handle Tommy’s meeting calmly. He’d probably tell her that it would be weeks until a new assistant could be hired, or that she’d have to share Trina’s assistant — putting a strain on both of their files and probably their relationship. Then she became aware of some thumping noises and swearing from the photocopier room behind her. Plainly, someone was having trouble with the copier and not handling it particularly well.

  Stifling a wry snicker, Nell decided to see if she could help, like some kind of photocopier superhero. All she needed was a cape. She whipped around the corner and into the copier room.

  A man in beat-up jeans and a Queen t-shirt bent over the copier, prodding its innards unsuccessfully, and giving the base of the machine a desultory kick when it continued to beep and flash error messages. Tall enough. Toned arms with just the right amount of ink. Blond wavy hair. Oh, hell no.

  The man stood up.

  Their eyes met.

  It was definitely, without a doubt, the pool player from the Frog and Ball — the man she’d left writhing on the floor of the women’s bathroom. And there was no question that he recognized her.

  “What are you doing here?” Nell asked, before he could say anything.

  He looked down at his hands, which were streaked with copier toner. “Tommy Bax
ter is my uncle. It seems I’m going to be working here for a bit. I’m, ah, not used to being in an office — do you know anything about these beasts?”

  “Right,” said Nell. “Let me have a look at it.” She gave him a cold look and a jerk of her chin to let him know that he needed to move out of her space before she’d approach. Somewhat warily, he backed away to lean against the office supply cupboards. Stepping up to the copier, she turned the handle that would open the inner section of the machine, then rotated the wheel to move the jammed paper forward.

  As she eased the crumpled and smudged paper out of the copier, the blond man moved closer, leaned down next to her ear and asked quietly, “What the hell was up with you putting me on the ground at the pub like that?” His unexpected nearness startled her, and she jumped back, only narrowly controlling her impulse to take down the threat. “Whoa!” he said, seeing her half-fisted hands and ready stance.

  “You were in the women’s can, where you had no business being. You wouldn’t listen when I told you to back off. So yeah, I put you on the ground. And I’ll do it again if I have to.”

  The man laughed, a sexy, throaty laugh. Flirty. “I would never have hurt you, gorgeous.”

  Nell rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to, and I don’t care about your intentions. Stay out of the women’s bathroom here at work, and stay away from me at the Frog and Ball on Sundays.”

  “All right.” The man’s chuckle told her he wasn’t taking her seriously.

  She finished putting the photocopier back together. “There. The copier is fixed. Try not to break it again.”

  “Thanks. What’s your name, ninja woman?”

  “Nell.” She didn’t want to tell him, but he’d find out from Tommy soon enough. No point in creating a war over something minor.

  “That’s pretty. I’m Eamonn.”

  Nell shrugged. Damned if I’ll show him I like anything about him. She didn’t want to find even his name appealing. “Right. Well, I’d better get back to my desk.”

  Not waiting for a response, she swirled out of the room and ducked back into her office, grabbing her tin of tea and her mug. A soothing cup of vanilla spice rooibos would be just the thing to settle her agitation over finding him here, in her office.

  At the dot of half past one, Nell knocked on Tommy’s office door. He didn’t like late, or early. But instead of his usual barked “Come in,” she heard footsteps, and he opened the door for her himself. “Nell, you’re here,” he said, in an unusually affable tone. “Come and sit down. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Oh, crap. Eamonn the photocopy room guy, the pool player from the Frog and Ball, was sprawled in one of Tommy’s guest chairs. “Hi, Nell. Uncle Tommy, we’ve met — she helped me with a paper jam in the copy machine.”

  “Well, good. Nell, Eamonn’s going to be your assistant for a while. No experience, but he can learn on the job. Changing careers isn’t easy, so I trust you’ll help him out and not be too hard on him?” The inflection made it a question and asked for her agreement, but the wording didn’t give her a choice.

  “Of course. I’m… sure we’ll work things out.”

  Eamonn looked across at her and gave her a slow wink, making the words work things out seem somehow dirty, like a double entendre she hadn’t intended. “It’ll be a pleasure to work things out with you, baby.”

  Tommy or no Tommy, that couldn’t stand. “Do not call me baby,” Nell gritted out.

  “Calm down, Nell. Eamonn isn’t used to an office environment; it’ll take him some time to learn all the niceties.”

  “Right. Eamonn, if we’re going to work harmoniously together, you’ll have to call me Nell — or Miss Whelan.” No one used last names at Wildforest, not even the most senior management or the board of directors. But Nell was accustomed to being Miss Whelan in a martial arts setting, and she could use a little of that respect from Eamonn.

  That only got a laugh from him. “Miss Whelan, is it?” And she realized that the title didn’t have quite the same meaning as it did in martial arts circles; his emphasis made it something dainty, maybe even a bit southern belle, rather than the earned title of a black belt. Damn. Well, in ten years she’d qualify as Master Whelan, and then… That wouldn’t show him anything. She wouldn’t even know him a decade on. But her goal of attaining mastership had sustained her through a lot of things. She held onto it now and straightened her spine.

  “The Wildforest board prefers that we use first names here,” Tommy explained to Eamonn. “Friendly corporate culture and all that. Run along now and Nell will show you your office — Shannon’s is still empty, right, Nell?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Tommy. Let’s go, Eamonn.” She turned to leave Tommy’s office and nearly ran smack into Lila, who was carrying two cups of coffee.

  “Whoops! Didn’t know you were in here, Nell. I was just bringing some coffee for Tommy and Easy — it’s okay if I call you Easy, right? I’ll never remember to say Eamonn.” Lila held out the coffee to the men, practically purring and batting her eyelashes. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.”

  “Thanks, sugar.” Eamonn took the coffee, seeming to accept the nickname and Lila’s fawning behavior as normal and his due. Weird.

  Tommy accepted his coffee with a shrug and a muttered, “Typical.”

  “Let’s go,” Nell repeated, nearly taking Eamonn’s arm to drag him away from Lila’s fluttering attention. But she jerked her hand back just in time; he might take the contact the wrong way. Who knew what went through that man’s mind?

  As they filed down the narrow corridors to Nell’s office and the empty one beside it, now Eamonn’s, she wondered about Lila nicknaming him “Easy” — and how readily he’d accepted it. That seemed pretty brazen of Lila, in retrospect, although it did somehow suit him. Maybe the receptionist had heard Tommy call him that, or perhaps he’d leaned over the reception desk and suggested it. Without thinking it through, she turned back to him and asked, “Hey, why did Lila call you Easy? Is it a nickname? Something you prefer?”

  He looked at her in stunned incredulity, coming to a stop in the hallway. “You don’t know?”

  “Should I know something about you? Other than your habit of entering women’s bathrooms uninvited?” And she didn’t even know that was a habit, but it didn’t strike her as a one-time effort.

  Eamonn still looked stunned. “You don’t, ah, recognize me?” She blinked at him, still drawing a blank. “Rock band? Bass player?” he prompted. “Stage names?”

  Crap. “Smidge,” she said, as the puzzle pieces fell into place in her mind. She wasn’t a huge rock fan, preferring classical music and jazz, but she didn’t live in a convent. She’d seen them on television, on bus shelter posters, heard their songs on friends’ playlists. She hadn’t expected one of them to be here. “You’re Easy from Smidge.” And then, “So what the ever-loving hell are you doing in an office, working for Wildforest?”

  His face closed up, grew hard, stony. “If you have to ask, do you think we could talk about it somewhere more private?” The icy tone to his voice told her something had gone very wrong and he was raw about it right to his core.

  “It’s none of my business,” Nell said at once. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  Eamonn shrugged. “Whatever. Show me my office so I can get settled in, okay?” A faint hint of a flush around his neck and jaw told her he wasn’t as blasé about it as he seemed. A complicated man. A rock god. An office assistant?

  “Would you rather I call you Eamonn, or Easy?” she asked.

  “Either. I’ll answer to both.”

  She shrugged, letting him have his privacy. “Here’s your office. Mine’s next door. Have you been given a username and password for the office computer system yet?”

  For answer, he fished a crumpled Post-It note out of his pocket and held it up.

  “Okay, then, go ahead and get logged in and configure your email an
d chat profile and stuff. I’ve got a couple of things I want to get done, then I’ll come back and walk you through the basics of managing a Wildforest property. All right?”

  “Cool,” Eamonn said, sliding into the desk chair with a smoothly graceful movement that shouldn’t have made Nell shiver.

  She needed more tea. Hell, she needed a Frosty Peach and some sweet potato fries.

  How is it only Thursday? Sunday night seemed an eternity away.

  Did it bother him that she didn’t recognize him at first glance? The question had troubled her a few times in the night. Presumably, he’d earned his place in the music world every bit as much as she’d earned hers in martial arts; she was familiar with the infuriating feeling of having one’s skill disregarded — she hated it when people assumed she was helpless just because she was female. If being recognized was inherent to being a rock star, then to go unrecognized…

  Still, Nell refused to vary her routine for a new assistant, especially one who was so presumptuous with women and so sure of himself and his fame and sex appeal. She felt particularly glad that she hadn’t done something silly — like buy a new blouse or put on makeup — when Lila floated in, early for a miraculous first time ever, in a ruffled peach chiffon dress and smoky, sparkly eye makeup. “Hot date after work, Lila?” Nell asked, although she was pretty sure she knew the cause of Lila’s extra efforts.

  Lila giggled. “Not unless Easy asks me out. Is he here yet?”

  “No. Haven’t seen him.”

  “Do me a favor and let me know when he comes in, ’kay? I want to be the one who brings him coffee.”

  Nell snorted. “Sure, but you’ve got feathers for brains if you think that’s going to get you anywhere. The man probably has a dozen girlfriends.”

  Eamonn didn’t turn up until after ten o’clock, eating a doughnut and drinking coffee from a Top Pot to-go cup. He propped himself against the open door of her office and said, “Morning, baby.”