Chapter 3

3

PRESLEY

B eing from a small town, I was used to not having a super-sized grocery store within a few minutes of my house. But we'd been lucky enough to live only twenty minutes from one growing up, and now I lived in a town with not one, not two, but three large grocery stores.

That was probably why I'd forgotten what it was like trying to round up groceries in a small-town grocery store. By the time we walked out with bags of food, drinks, cups, plates, and napkins, I wasn't sure what had just happened. All I knew was having someone to grocery shop with was nice. Especially when that guy was a hot military vet who'd been far more helpful than I would have expected.

"I'll help you make sandwiches for everyone," he said as I settled my tote bag on the floor at my feet.

If it bugged Trace that I was carrying that canvas bag everywhere with me, he didn't show it. In fact, he hadn't mentioned anything at all about the reason I was in town.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, figuring it was best to address the elephant in the room—or in the truck, as the case may be. "My boss pays me well. In fact, he kind of saved me from being evicted from my apartment. He paid my back rent and quadrupled what I was making as an administrative assistant for the city."

"So, you feel like you owe him," he said. "How long have you worked for this guy?"

"Eight months." I sighed. "And the confusing thing is, I really like the job. I love getting out and meeting people rather than being stuck in an office all day. It's not like he runs his business trolling disaster sites. This is the first one, actually. He sends me to home and garden expos, local networking events, restaurants…"

He glanced over at me, frown firmly in place. "Restaurants?"

"We do those ‘get a free dinner for listening to our presentation' things. I'm sure you've gotten junk mail about that kind of thing."

"Not really." He shook his head. "You don't see much of that around Rosewood Ridge."

I made a mental note to tell my boss to broaden the reach of his mailers. If he wasn't hitting small towns, he was missing some good opportunities.

"My point is, until now, I loved my job," I said. "Today has me rethinking things."

Now he was the one who sighed. "I don't want to put you in an awkward position. It's not your fault. Look, get to know the people of this town. Get to really know them. Look at what the tornado victims are going through, and then, if you can still, with good conscience, hand out your business card?—"

"My boss's business card," I interrupted. "And if I return home without drumming up some new business for him, he'll have questions."

"And you'll have answers," he said.

This guy was severely overestimating how much I could stand up to my boss. My boss was intimidating. He hadn't built a successful one-man business being pushed around. And he certainly wasn't going to let some twenty-three-year-old without a college degree or any real business experience get by with it.

"You don't know my boss," I said. "I'd barely get three words in, and he'd have me backing down. Maybe even hiding in a corner."

Why was I admitting this to him? He'd think I was a complete pussy.

Trace glanced over at me. "Stick with me a little while. You'll be ready to tell him to respect you or fuck off."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. I liked the idea of hanging around here for a while, though. In fact, I was starting to get more than a little bummed that I'd have to leave town in a few days.