Page 3 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“Wow, they’re a passionate bunch.” I turn to Ashton. “I didn’t realize this was an issue. Alexander didn’t tell me.”
Ashton takes a deep breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I imagine he’s not aware, or even concerned about Lahoma Springs. But why would he be? This is just business.” He nods at the building. “As for crossing that picket line? I don’t recommend it, not if you want to make friends in this town.”
This time, it’s my turn to narrow my eyes. I give a short laugh, then smooth my skirt. “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to do the job I’m being paid to do.”
He glances my way again, and this time when he looks me over, I feel his eyes all over my body. I know he’s just sizing me up—the enemy, apparently—but damn if I don’t feel completely naked under his gaze.
“Got it,” he says. Then he touches the brim of his hat and gives a quick nod. “Good luck, Ms. Gallo.”
And then Ashton walks away, leaving me to figure out the mess I’m in on my own.
Crossing the Picket Line
Jordy
I watch Ashton’s retreating back and feel the smallest amount of hesitation as he disappears around the corner. This isn’t my fight. I’m not even sure I’d have taken this job if I knew there’d be protests. Did Alexander know about this?
I pull out my phone and tap his number on the screen, then wait for him to answer.
“Hey troublemaker, did you have any issues finding the building?”
I roll my eyes at his nickname. Alexander had invited me along to a few fundraising events and one ritzy date before I started working for him, and while he was a nice guy and had more money than I’d seen in a lifetime, I realized quickly that the chemistry wasn’t there. It was entirely apparent that a romantic connection with him would mean he’d be center stage while I served as arm candy, standing by without an opinion while he discussed his art collection, his latest golf game, or how the stock market was doing.
No, thank you.
If my mother knew I’d turned him down, she’d disown me. Growing up, she often told me I could fall in love with a rich man just as easily as a poor one, but I can’t pay the bills with a warm heart. I always felt like this was a dig at my father, even though our family was not poor. But she was the one who came into the family with money, not him. We’d had a comfortable lifestyle growing up, but my father and I both knew she wanted more. Which is why I never told her I’d dated a guy like Alexander, and definitely kept it a secret that I’d turned him down.
That said, I know Alexander is still interested, even if he mostly keeps things professional. I want to believe he hired me for my design skill, which I’m quite proud of. He’s a businessman first, so I’m sure that was part of his decision to bring me on board as their corporate designer.
But when he calls me nicknames liketroublemaker,darling,sweetie, or the like, it’s this little reminder of our brief romance, and a hint that he’s open to explore it again.
“Alex, we talked about this,” I say, biting back a grin. He hates when anyone shortens his name. Sure as shit, he sighs heavily on the other end.
“It’s Alexander,” he growls.
“And it’s Jordy, or it’s Ms. Gallo.”
“Fine. Ms. Gallo, did you find the establishment, and was it to your liking?”
I can’t help laughing at his formal tone, and he gives in with a low chuckle. But then I glance at the protesters, sobering with the dread of dealing with this headache.
“Listen, there are a bunch of townspeople with picket signs in front of the store. What’s going on? Did you take this place by force or something? Did you know this was happening?”
“That’s odd. No, it was an easy sale, actually. I primarily collaborated with Mr. Elliot, the store manager. But Mr. Felix, the owner, was the one who approached me and signed the documents in the end. There was very little discussion other than they needed to sell quickly.” He pauses, then says, “What are they protesting?”
“Something about leaving their small town alone.”
He huffs a low laugh. “Small towns are notorious for hating change. I wouldn’t put much stock in it. By next week, they’ll be onto something new.”
It’s hardly a comfort. I’m supposed to be here for almost a month, and I need to get to work immediately.
“What do I do in the meantime? I can’t just wait them out.”
“You’ll think of something. You’re a smart woman.”
This is not the reassurance I need.
“Listen, this is not the job I signed up for. I thought I was going to be focusing on lighting and textiles, not…” I glance at the people circling out front again, narrowing my eyes as they continue their little circle in front of the building. “…focusing on a bunch of country bumpkins passing the time with a protest. Imean, maybe they could put some of their energy into making this town smell better. Did you know this place smells like—”
