“Sure. I’m loyal to those who are loyal to me, and Marcie has been there for me since I started working for Mr Garrett. I wouldn’t feel right about just leaving her there without me.”
“Well, there you go, it’s a win-win for everyone.”
“You really want me to work here?” she asks, and the moment takes a serious turn.
“Cameron, it doesn’t matter where you work, I’ll always find you, but if you’re here, it saves me the hassle of playing detective,” I say, and that gets me a playful slap to my arm along with a laugh. “I promise you, it won’t be weird, and if it is, then tell me and we’ll work it out.”
“I don’t know…” she says as she bites her bottom lip. I know she’s tempted—she bites her bottom lip when she’s tempted.
“Let’s go and see if Anthony is back to discuss pay structure and the work schemes, and then you will have all the information to chew over before you decide,” I suggest.
“Okay,” she says with a smile, and I feel something akin to joy in my chest.
ChapterSeventeen
Cameron
“Oh my God, Marcie, the place is amazing,” I tell her when she comes back with our drinks and places a glass of wine in front of me.
“See, now I would be more fixated on the hot as fuck dad who so clearly has a hard-on for you but whatever,” she teases with a wink, and I roll my eyes.
“Stop it,” I scold her, but something flutters in my chest from her description… maybe it’s the thought of Caleb with a hard-on? Or maybe it’s the fact that he protected me from his own son? Whatever it is, I need to shut it down, especially seeing as I’ve accepted a job to work there, which I am yet to tell Marcie, but I’ll get to it in a minute.
“Okay, we’ll put a pin in it until you’ve told me all about this so-called amazing workplace.” Her voice changes to one of sarcasm when she says ‘amazing’ and ‘workplace’, because really, most workplaces are just a means to end for a paycheck at the end of every month. But this place is so different… at least, it seemed that way, and when I spoke to some of the other workers there, they had nothing but good things to say. I’m hoping I’ve made the right decision, what with Caleb being there too, but he seemed eager for me to move away from the more corporate companies that I have worked in so far and see what working for a boss who really cares about their employees is like. Time will tell, I guess.
I start to tell Marcie about the place, really doing my best to sell it to her, because I want her to say yes when I offer her a job there.
“Well, it all sounds pretty amazing, but what’s the catch?” she asks. “There’s always a catch when it seems too good to be true.”
“Honestly, there isn’t one.”
“You sure about that?”
“Well, no, but sometimes you’ve gotta take a chance,” I say as I pick up my wine and take a sip.
“Like jumping on the hot dad’s dick kind of chance,” Marcie comments, and I choke on the wine I just took a sip of. I cough very unattractively to clear my throat, while Marcie just sits there and pisses herself laughing.
“Remind me not to call you in an emergency,” I sass when I can finally breathe properly again.
She rolls her eyes over-dramatically. “No need to overreact, you totally had it handled.”
“Gee, thanks,” I respond sarcastically, and she laughs. “Can we be serious for two seconds, please?”
“Sure,” she says with a nod as she puts on a ridiculously serious face, making me raise a brow at her as I stifle a laugh. “Okay, fine, I can be serious.”
“First time for everything,” I comment, and she sticks her tongue out at me. “Anyway, how do you feel about coming to take a look at the place tomorrow?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been offered a job running the new ad department and I told them I wouldn’t leave unless you had the chance to come and work with me,” I tell her, putting it out there, and I really wish I’d waited until she’d finished her drink, because she spits her drink out in shock, spraying me in the process. Guess it was my turn for that to happen.
“For fuck’s sake, Marcie,” I say as I look at my wine-splattered shirt.
“Sorry, but you drop something like that and you’re gonna get sprayed,” she says, grabbing a napkin that is to the side of her and mopping up the droplets on the table. I wipe my face with another napkin, more eager to hear her answer to what I just told her than I am to try and wipe my shirt, which is white and going to need to be binned anyway, because white shirt and red wine do not mix well.
“Well? What do you think?” I ask, and she takes another big glug of wine before answering.
“I think you’ve been blinded by that delicious man,” she says with a smirk.