Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

“Thanks,” I say, reassured. Bringing Murphy to work with me is a comfort for us both. He’s been with me since… Well, he’s the only one who hasn’t left, anyway.

“I’d better talk to these folks.” Charles gestures at the roofing van. “Great to meet you.” He reaches out his hand.

“You too,” I say, shaking it again.

“See you Thursday!” He smiles and starts to walk away, then turns back to face me. “And honestly, Jude…” he adds, “as for things going ahead? Based on what I hear from John and Susan, the job is yours.”

5

OLENA

I find myself staring into the fridge Thursday morning, chewing on the inside of my cheek and wishing breakfast could choose, prepare, and clean up after itself. Wyatt shuffles out of his room to join me in the kitchen. He’s still in his pajamas and slippers, his rumpled blond hair sticking out at strange angles, pillow creases lining his face.

“Someone’s looking fancy today,” he says, taking in my outfit.

I shut the fridge and look down at my clothes. Shrugging, I smooth down the fabric of my fitted silk blouse. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my cropped dress pants and bite my lip, hoping my appearance hides the stomach-churning anxiety I feel about this new job with Mr. Faulkner.

I scoured the internet last night for images of the property but it remains elusive. With no idea what I’m walking into, I feel uneasy. I shrug again nervously.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what to wear; it’s always tricky to dress business-casual when meeting clients outdoors. Don’t want to lose a heel in the muck, you know?” I fidget with my lucky sitka tree pendant. “I hope I look like a proper, dignified businesswoman,” I add, putting on an air of formality as I do a small twirl.

Wyatt nods appreciatively and approaches me with a contemplative expression.

“What? What is it?” I’m suddenly on the defensive.

“I just…” Wyatt reaches for my hair and pulls it back, holding it up behind my head and letting a few strands fall back down at the front. He leans back a bit to take in the effect.

I frown.

“Hmm. What if you wore your hair pulled up, babe?”

After much contemplation in the mirror this morning, I settled on wearing my hair down, the long brown waves tumbling around my shoulders.

“What? No.” I roll my eyes and swat his hands away before smoothing my hair back down. “It’s fine like this. And don’t call me babe, babe.” I throw him a snarky look.

“Okay,” he says defensively, “I was just thinking, you know, outdoors, big property up on that cliff way out there… I’m seeing wind and I’m seeing that gorgeous hair of yours whipping all around…” He trails off, squinting at me. “I’m just saying, it might not create the professional je ne sais quoi you’re going for. Babe.”

He winks and I roll my eyes again.

“Well, too late to change it now because I need to get going.” I check the time on my phone and realize I’m cutting it too close. “Shit.”

My stomach twisting, I dash to the door to grab my purse and portfolio.

Wyatt slowly pours himself a coffee and turns to watch me rushing around, scrutinizing my every move.

I stuff my feet into my ankle boots and pat my pockets, muttering to myself as I mentally go over my checklist of things to bring. I grab my coat and scarf off a chair by the door.

He sips his coffee, eyeing me over a mug that reads “Gay and tired” below a sleepy-looking cartoon rainbow.

“Wait, isn’t your car still in the shop?” he asks with a confused furrow of his brow.

“Nat’s letting me borrow her car. Damn it, where are her keys?” I rummage through my purse frantically, panic rising. There’s no time to go on a what the fuck have I done with the car keys this time hunt. I swear, the interior of this purse is a portal to another dimension and all my belongings have been taken captive in the blackness, evading my desperate clutches. I walk to the table with my bag and remove the items one by one to help me see what’s left. Lip balm, tissue packet, wet wipes, two pens, sunglasses…

Wyatt sits down at the kitchen table and puts his feet up on the chair next to him. He stretches out his long limbs and runs a hand through his hair, the picture of relaxation. He watches me with amusement.

“Wow, you still carrying this around?” He picks up my small canister of bear spray, turning it to read the label. He raises his eyebrows at me.

I snatch it back from him. “Yes.”