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“I, um, hi, Mr. Jones. I’m Faith.” She held out her free hand.
He stared from her hand to her face. Wow. Talk about arrogant and self-confident.
He was . . . dark, dangerous, a tempting perfection.
And she didn’t even come close to ‘all right’ on a good day.
“Blossom.”
“Excuse me?” he drawled.
“I’m Faith Blossom.”
“That’s your name?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Urgh. Yes. I’m, uh, I’m your new assistant?” Shoot. She hadn’t meant to word that as a question.
“I don’t think so.” He glanced at his watch. Then he moved past her. “I need to go.”
“But . . . Winkleman Agency sent me. They said you knew I was coming.”
“I really thought they would have given up by now,” he muttered.
Huh?
What did that mean? Did he want them to stop sending him assistants?
That was . . . strange.
“Does anyone really take you seriously with that name?” he asked.
“Um. Yes. I think so?” She’d never thought about that before. She’d always been Faith Blossom from the Blossom family who owned Blossom Farm.
Okay, that sounded ridiculous, but no one had ever questioned her full name.
“You’re wearing a butterfly hair clip.” There was a look on his face that she couldn’t decipher.
Her hand rose to the clip in her hair. “It’s my lucky hair clip. My grandma bought it for me. She loved butterflies and flowers. All of nature, really.”
“Lucky hair clip, of course. Now, I’m going.”
“But . . . should I come with you?” she asked as he locked the door behind him.
“Nope.”
“Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked.
“Leave.”
She sat on a chair in the waiting area as he disappeared into the elevator.
“Well. That went well.”
Reuben walked into the elevator and closed his eyes.
The employment agency that Cat contacted just kept sending him assistants. The others had been easy to send away. They’d all looked at him like he was a meal ticket.
Someone they could eat.
