Page 23 of Small Town Boy

“Potato, patahto.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Whatever.”

“So, what time shall I pick you up for work Monday? And can I talk you into breakfast first?”

7

BRONWYN

I settle deep into my office chair, wiggling my hips to start to break in the new, stiff leather. It lets out a squeak, which softly echoes off the bare, freshly painted walls. Walls that look very sterile in their neutral, eggshell color, asking for attention and personalization. Which is just one more thing to be excited about—a chance to decorate my own office.

An office with a door.

All I had at Coffman Witte was a cubicle. I’d at least graduated to a solo cube, no longer forced to sit in this weird quad that left zero room for privacy. I’d come so close to a real office. But that was before it all took a turn.

None of that matters now though, because I have a new life. With Hayes Industries.

With my own office.

I glance at the clock on my laptop, wondering how it’s already a little past eleven. The morning—most of which was spent filling out paperwork with Human Resources, and then watching as IT made sure my office was wired correctly—has flown by. Especially since I didn’t sleep much—my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling fan spin, running through all the different ways this morning could play out. Including how I was going to turn down breakfast again.

Because secretly, I really wanted to go to breakfast.

Noel hadn’t flinched when I turned down his offer as he dropped me off the other night. Hell, he hadn’t even skipped a beat with his follow-up question of what time I wanted to be picked up. Which actually made me flinch. Because his follow-up question had nothing to do with his original one. Instead, it was the next logical one. There had been no disbelief that I wouldn’t want to eat with him, and no attempt to convince me that I didn’t know what I want. Just acceptance of it. Something that was incredibly endearing, actually.

True to his word, Noel was at my door, promptly at the time I requested. With breakfast.

“Wasn’t sure what your breakfast meat of choice is, or if you even eat meat, so that one is just egg and cheese,” he told me, handing me a warm breakfast burrito wrapped in tin foil. “There’s salsa in the truck if you want it.”

That burrito had been an answer to a prayer, since there was zero food in the house, and making it to the grocery store was out of the question since I no longer had a car. The pizza I had ordered in the middle of the afternoon yesterday barely saw dinner last night, leaving me without the leftovers I had been counting on for today. I scarfed the burrito down like I hadn’t eaten in weeks, catching the smirk on Noel’s face, grateful he didn’t comment. Instead, we rode in silence until we reached Hayes, where he handed me a business card with his cell number scribbled on it with a wink, in case I needed a ride home.

A wink that I thought about the entire time I filled out government paperwork and listened to the IT guy prattle on about…I don’t even know. Because I was too busy thinking about that wink and letting the butterfly it let loose run havoc in my tummy.

A tummy that was now grumbling. The very sweet HR lady mentioned something about a cafeteria during the brief tour she gave me. I was too turned around to remember which building we were in—I think it was this one, no, maybe it was next door—but I’m sure I can find someone who would be willing to give me directions.

“There you are!” Willa says, strutting into my office, a grin on her face that makes her look like the cat who ate the canary.

“Should I be elsewhere?” I question.

Shit, did I miss a meeting? That would be just my luck. Miss a meeting on the first day.

Willa looks down at her watch, shaking her head. “Nope, we have fifteen minutes ’til Munch. Which gives you plenty of time to spill the tea.”

She plops down in one of the modern style guest chairs across from my desk, crossing her long legs. Her smirk grows bigger, her eyebrows waggling, and suddenly I feel like I’m on the outside of a secret. Although she certainly thinks I’m the one with insider knowledge.

“Munch? And I don’t understand what you mean about tea.”

“Munch is Monday lunch. Every Monday my brothers, my dad, and I have lunch together and talk through what’s going on at Hayes. It’s nothing formal, and you won’t have to attend every week—usually only the first week of the month do all the executives join us. But, since it’s your first day, and you haven’t met the whole gang yet, I thought it’d be nice.”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, I would love to meet the rest of your brothers. I’m still figuring out who is who and who does what, but…I promise I’ll get there.”

Thank goodness…lunch plans…

I breathe a silent sigh of relief, Willa waving off my concerns. “We’re a big family. It’ll take some time, we know. And I’ll give you a run-through once we’re in there. But for now, tea! Spill it!”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sorry, southern-ism,” Willa laughs. “It means to share the gossip.”