happening. Damn it, people. They needed to adhere
to some kind of organizational structure if they were going to save Larimar.
Everyone running around doing their own thing with their own little quirks and
touches was part of the problem.
She was knee-deep in organizing the chaos when Heath entered
the lobby. Even as irritated as she was, the sight of Heath momentarily took her
breath away. He was the most handsome man she’d ever known. And she wasn’t just
saying that because she slept next to him every night. He still walked with a
mild limp from his fall off the roof but she hardly noticed anything but his
dazzling smile because when he looked at her, the world disappeared.
Briefly.
“Celly is going to kill you for messing with her system,” Heath
joked, reminding Lora of the ugly business earlier.
She stiffened and returned to her task. “Well, Celly needs a
new system. One that isn’t grounded in chaos theory. This is a mess.”
“Well, I’m just saying, she has a system and it seems to work
fairly well and since she works the front desk the majority of the time, I’d
leave her to it. I know I’d have a fit if someone came into my shop and started
rearranging my tools.”
Lora paused, struck by the uncomfortable reasoning. Heath was
right. But Lora struggled with admitting that simple fact, not because of Heath
but because of Celly. She glowered at Heath for making his point. “I didn’t mean
to start changing everything... It’s just that she had staples mingling with
paper clips,” she said as if her reasoning ought to be self-explanatory.
“A crime, I’m sure,” Heath said, smiling and not the least bit
offended by her scowl. “Now stop rearranging someone else’s workstation before
they cut you off from the boiled bananas.”
Celly made boiled bananas better than The Wild Donkey, which
was saying something considering the ramshackle eatery had been serving the
local fare since the 1930s.
And it just happened to be Lora’s favorite.
She groaned. “Why does she hate me?” she asked, trying to
return the desk to the way it was but in the end she gave up and resigned
herself to another tongue-lashing, or worse, sullen silence.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Heath assured Lora. “But you do have a
way of talking down to her that probably doesn’t help your case.”
“I do not,” Lora retorted indignantly. “I state my mind and I
don’t mince words, that’s all. I’d think she’d respect that seeing as she’s the
same damn way.”
Heath’s look said he didn’t buy it. “Lora, you got off on the
wrong foot is all but that can be fixed. She’s a great woman if you give
yourself a chance to know her. Grams would’ve loved her. In a way—”
“Don’t say it,” Lora warned with a growl. There is no way that
hard-bitten woman with the bad attitude was anything like her Grams. Not in a
million years. Not even if Grams had been a long-haul trucker who chewed cigars
and spit chewing tobacco. She shuddered at the thought. “Grams was sweet and
loving and just a bit quirky—” and she loved me “—whereas Celly—”
“Celly what?” The strident query followed as Celly returned to
the front desk. Lora didn’t have the chance to answer for Celly’s gaze lit on
the desk and her frown darkened to a deep, angry scowl. “What is this? My desk has been ruined.” Her accusatory gaze
swung to Lora with knowing ire. “Yah did this?”
Lora lifted her chin. “I did.”
Heath sensed the tension ballooning in the air and tried to
intervene with his signature good humor but Celly silenced him with a wave as
she addressed Lora. “Yah made dis mess...yah clean it. Yah seem to know what’s
best for everybody even if yah don’t know what’s best for yahself,” she said
darkly. “Until yah keep your nose out of what’s working...I’m going home.”
“What?” Lora said, dumbfounded. “What do you mean you’re going
home? Who will man the front desk?”
Celly grabbed her
to some kind of organizational structure if they were going to save Larimar.
Everyone running around doing their own thing with their own little quirks and
touches was part of the problem.
She was knee-deep in organizing the chaos when Heath entered
the lobby. Even as irritated as she was, the sight of Heath momentarily took her
breath away. He was the most handsome man she’d ever known. And she wasn’t just
saying that because she slept next to him every night. He still walked with a
mild limp from his fall off the roof but she hardly noticed anything but his
dazzling smile because when he looked at her, the world disappeared.
Briefly.
“Celly is going to kill you for messing with her system,” Heath
joked, reminding Lora of the ugly business earlier.
She stiffened and returned to her task. “Well, Celly needs a
new system. One that isn’t grounded in chaos theory. This is a mess.”
“Well, I’m just saying, she has a system and it seems to work
fairly well and since she works the front desk the majority of the time, I’d
leave her to it. I know I’d have a fit if someone came into my shop and started
rearranging my tools.”
Lora paused, struck by the uncomfortable reasoning. Heath was
right. But Lora struggled with admitting that simple fact, not because of Heath
but because of Celly. She glowered at Heath for making his point. “I didn’t mean
to start changing everything... It’s just that she had staples mingling with
paper clips,” she said as if her reasoning ought to be self-explanatory.
“A crime, I’m sure,” Heath said, smiling and not the least bit
offended by her scowl. “Now stop rearranging someone else’s workstation before
they cut you off from the boiled bananas.”
Celly made boiled bananas better than The Wild Donkey, which
was saying something considering the ramshackle eatery had been serving the
local fare since the 1930s.
And it just happened to be Lora’s favorite.
She groaned. “Why does she hate me?” she asked, trying to
return the desk to the way it was but in the end she gave up and resigned
herself to another tongue-lashing, or worse, sullen silence.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Heath assured Lora. “But you do have a
way of talking down to her that probably doesn’t help your case.”
“I do not,” Lora retorted indignantly. “I state my mind and I
don’t mince words, that’s all. I’d think she’d respect that seeing as she’s the
same damn way.”
Heath’s look said he didn’t buy it. “Lora, you got off on the
wrong foot is all but that can be fixed. She’s a great woman if you give
yourself a chance to know her. Grams would’ve loved her. In a way—”
“Don’t say it,” Lora warned with a growl. There is no way that
hard-bitten woman with the bad attitude was anything like her Grams. Not in a
million years. Not even if Grams had been a long-haul trucker who chewed cigars
and spit chewing tobacco. She shuddered at the thought. “Grams was sweet and
loving and just a bit quirky—” and she loved me “—whereas Celly—”
“Celly what?” The strident query followed as Celly returned to
the front desk. Lora didn’t have the chance to answer for Celly’s gaze lit on
the desk and her frown darkened to a deep, angry scowl. “What is this? My desk has been ruined.” Her accusatory gaze
swung to Lora with knowing ire. “Yah did this?”
Lora lifted her chin. “I did.”
Heath sensed the tension ballooning in the air and tried to
intervene with his signature good humor but Celly silenced him with a wave as
she addressed Lora. “Yah made dis mess...yah clean it. Yah seem to know what’s
best for everybody even if yah don’t know what’s best for yahself,” she said
darkly. “Until yah keep your nose out of what’s working...I’m going home.”
“What?” Lora said, dumbfounded. “What do you mean you’re going
home? Who will man the front desk?”
Celly grabbed her
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