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“Of course he didn’t,” Ray said before I could even open my mouth to respond. “That would’ve made things far too easy for me, wouldn’t it?”
Holly laughed as she glanced between the two of us. She leaned forward, setting her mug of coffee down on the table, and hoisted herself to her feet. “I like her. Good choice, Wade.”
I was already regretting it.
“Let me take your bag,” Holly offered. She slid her hand through the strap of the largest one, taking it before Ray could protest. “Wade can show you your office. You’re going to love it.”
Ray stared at her incredulously. “That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?”
Holly only nodded.
————
“What are you, some kind of pervert?”
I could hear Holly laugh as she passed by the open door of Ray’s office. She obviously heard what Ray had said.
“No,” I answered, meeting Ray’s questioning gaze while she unpacked her bag: pens, highlighters, notebooks, laptop, calendars, post-it notes. She set a small, rectangular screen next to her laptop.
“It was here when I moved in. But it does help me keep track of what you’re doing and who goes in and out of your office.”
“Why the hell would you need a one-way mirror to see who’s in my office? Haven’t you heard of live-feed cameras?” She asked, tapping one painted nail against the mirror as if checking to see if it truly was one-way.
“Like this?” I asked, holding up the small screen.
“Exactly.”
I couldn’t stop the thought from slipping out. “Do you have a kid?”
She rolled her eyes at me as she snatched it from my hand, the screen fizzling to life. “No. You think I have time for that?” Flicking through different video feeds, she turned it to face me. A woman sat on a couch, the television playing in front of her, while another stood beside her taking the first woman’s blood pressure. “It’s so I can keep an eye on my mom. Just makes me feel better whenever we have a new caregiver.”
I studied the feed a little closer. The woman in question, the one I assumed was Ray’s mom, didn’t look old enough to need a caregiver. Early fifties at best and considering Ray didn’t look a day past thirty, she must’ve had her when she was young. I took a deep breath, not knowing how to respond. It was a situation I’d never had to deal with before and likely never would again.
“So what are you going to do if I need to change clothes?” Ray asked, her attention focused wholly on the one-way mirror once again. “Pretend you’re not watching me when you really are?”
“There’s a set of blinds directly above it, Ray. You can pull them down if you’re changing clothes. Though I’d prefer you do that in the dedicated bathroom you have over there,” I pointed toward the door in the corner, “since your office doesn’t have a lock on it.”
A deep blush covered her freckled cheeks. “I didn’t notice that.”
“Shall we go over what you’ll actually be doing or would you like to question me further about my supposed voyeuristic tendencies?” I asked with a stern expression.
Pulling her sleeves down over her palms, she nodded.
“Right. Perfect.” I logged her into her computer, pointing out the little sheet of paper I’d left on her desk with the login information, and pulled up two separate calendars, one on each monitor. “So this one here is my personal calendar. You’ll need to keep track of my day-to-day, schedule things where I have time, and ensure an adequate amount of time for me to do the basics like eating, sleeping, and exercising. I’m sure you know how to do that.”
“Of course.”
“And this one is my professional calendar,” I continued, pointing to the other screen. “Meetings, business trips, and competitions held at the resort need to go in here with as much detail as possible. Again ensuring there’s enough time to complete everything in a workday.”
“That can’t be everything,” she said, taking a seat in the plush leather desk chair I’d bought only yesterday. She pulled herself closer to the desk and looked at the personal calendar, her face dropping as she began to read some of the events already scheduled. “Surely you didn’t hire someone with my amount of experience just to manage your sex schedule.”
I snorted. “No, that’s not all of it, but I’m trying to start you out slowly.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not a child.”
“I never said you were. Besides, I’d certainly hope not. I really don’t want to get arrested for child labor abuse,” I shot back, grinning when she glanced up at me with a look that read please shut up. “Anything labeled ‘bunny’ goes into the personal calendar. If someone calls wanting to schedule something with me and their name is on this list,” I pulled up a list of names, the file folder named ‘bunnies,’ “then they get the label bunny and they go on my personal calendar. Anyone on this list,” I pulled up another file folder, “goes into professional. Understood?”
She nodded, studying the list of names. “So, how long should I schedule you with your little ski bunnies? Two minutes? Three, tops?”
