Page 11 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
The two brothers race around the yard, then head to a spot on the back porch where Dylan’s made a makeshift bed out of an old comforter for her terrier, Max, judging by the size. My two ding-dongs slam into one another in their efforts to settle down, finally coming to a silent agreement where they curl up together, nose to tail, and pass out in a pillowy cloud of comfort.
Satisfied my human job is done, I sneak out the fence gate, making sure to close the latch behind me.
Glancing across the parking lot, I see Amelia crank her arm in the air and wave in my direction. Beside her stands another person, a man, who I’m guessing is the client, so I start jogging to get to them quicker. I get a feeling of familiarity when I see him, but my thoughts are interrupted by Amelia.
“I guess the dogs are secure?” she asks as I trot up beside her.
“Well, the latch closed.” Crossing my fingers, I grin her way. “Here’s hoping.”
“Well, then we can get started.” Amelia turns to the gentleman beside her. “Craig, this is Etta. She’ll be the coordinator for your team building events. She’s a former business owner herself who spent time organizing team building activities for her own employees.”
Craig thrusts his hand out, shaking mine heartily. “It’s nice to meet you officially, Etta. I’m here for the start of this meeting only because the person I’ve put in charge of this is at another appointment, but he’ll be here soon.”
“Gotcha.” I swing my backpack off my shoulder and open it, pulling out a notebook and pen. I discard the bag beside Amelia’s car, pull my hair back into a ponytail, and start making notes. “Can you tell me approximately how many will be in your group?”
Amelia points to a picnic table nearby and we follow her in that direction. Craig pulls out his phone.
“I have the final number confirmed in an email.” He sits, scrolling his phone for a moment before tapping its screen and stopping on something of interest. Squinting his eyes, he scans his phone before his eyes light up. “There it is. We’ll have twelve members of our team taking part.”
I scribble this down. “I like twelve, it’s a good number.” When I look up, two pairs of eyes are staring at me like I’m speaking Greek. “What I mean is, this number of people allows you to go deeper in your team bonding. When you get over fifteen or sixteen people, I’ve found it harder to get them into a groove, you know?”
Beside me, Amelia nods. “I get it.”
“That’s a reasonable argument to me,” Craig says with a grin as the cellphone in his hand beeps. He glances at the screen before putting it down. “Oh good, my coordinator should be pulling in any second.”
“Before he gets here, let’s head up to my office and sign the contract. Etta can stay here and wait for your guy,” Amelia states as she hops up from the picnic table. She points to the building beside us. “The first floor of this building is our kitchen for the campground, but my office is upstairs.”
Craig looks my way and after I nod, letting him know I’m fine with staying, he unravels himself from the picnic table and follows Amelia. “Let’s do it.”
My eyes trail behind them as they head inside. Once they disappear from sight, I go back to my notebook and start making notes. I wasn’t joking; knowing the number of people who are coming is beneficial because now I can start making a list of ideas for exercises and icebreakers we can take them through.
I have no idea how long I’m left alone. I can tell you it’s long enough that I'm able to fill a page of my notebook on one side and half of the other before I’m brought out of my trance from the sound of tires crunching on gravel as someone makes their way up the driveway.
Looking up, I’m surprised to see a Sweetkiss Creek squad car slowly making its way up the lane and into the parking lot. My gut reaction at first is that something’s wrong, and my second thought—now that I know he likes to escape—is that Thor got out again, only this time I know for certain where he is.
I glance up at the window to Amelia’s office and there’s no movement, so either she’s not worried or she’s not expecting them. Seeing as I am her temporary help, I jump up and walk around to the parking lot to see who it is.
As I do, a weird feeling hits my stomach. Looking up at Amelia’s office window again, I realize I never asked Craig where he works. Nor did I ask who the team retreat is for. There’s a sizzling feeling in the pit of my stomach as I think about all of the cruel jokes fate could play on me.
One would be having Zac Wright show up here today as the team coordinator for the police department. Even I can laugh at this thought because there is no way that it would happen.
None.
None at all, no way, not ever.
With these thoughts fresh in my mind, you can bet that when I walk around the front of the building, I am thinking every horrible thing one can imagine when I see Zac Wright climbing out of his cruiser, green eyes flashing my way and waving a hand in the air.
* * *
“You tricked me.”
“No,” Amelia manages through the clenched teeth of a fake smile she has plastered on her face. “You didn’t ask. I didn’t need to tell you, and to be fair, I didn’t know Zac would be the coordinator. I’ve only dealt with Sergeant Lane.”
While Amelia is able to serve up a faux grin for her visitors, which I chalk up to her experience with a husband who is also an actor, I cannot. Etta and “poker face” are three words not said in the same sentence often. Unless I’m dancing to Lady Gaga’s song, then it’s probably “Turn off Poker Face because Etta’s dancing and we need her to stop.”
But I digress. Let me fill you in.
As soon as Zac waved at me, I did what any reasonable and very adult woman would do: I walked straight to the campground kitchen building, opened the door, and marched upstairs to Amelia’s office.
