Page 7 of Spark
Chapter Three
Finlay
“Goodmorning,Xena.”Iglance up from my phone to the smiling face of my assistant, who always manages to get here before me, no matter how early I come in.
“Good morning, Finlay.” Her mouth twists as though she’s struggling to hold something in.
This gives me pause. Xena is one who does not hold back. When I first interviewed her ten years ago, she reminded me of my gran when she promptly told me I didn’t look old enough to be a condom king and then asked if one of the perks of the job was free samples. Instantly, I knew she was perfect to work here.
I point to her mouth and twirl my finger at it. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” Her chestnut eyes do the disco while her lips gyrate.
“This look. What’s going on?”
“I had a good weekend. Do you want to hear about it?” She bats her false eyelashes, daring me because we both know the answer to that question is a firm,no.
Hands over my ears and shaking my head, I step back. The last thing I want to do is hear about my seventy-year-old assistant’s weekend. Not only because she’s single and ready to mingle—her words not mine—but also because her weekend is guaranteed to have been better than mine. “Nope. I’m good.”
“Chicken.” Her laugh chases me as I escape to my office and try not to think about the instant attraction I felt toward the alluring bouncer at the club I never wanted to go to.
Mateo… I’ve spent the weekend watching home improvement videos and working on one of the bathrooms at my house, but it wasn’t enough to keep the vision of Mateo with his dark shadow of whiskers and tempting backside from popping up unwanted. I pause outside my office door as Xena hurries toward me. “I’d rather be a chicken than scarred by whatever tales of debauchery you found yourself involved in. It’s bad enough I have to hear it from Gran.”
“Is she back in town yet? She and I need to go out again, soon.”
“Oh, god. Please don’t. Philadelphia can’t handle the two of you together.”
This earns a boisterous hoot of laughter while I open the door to my office, only to be accosted by hundreds of balloons. Black balloons with the number forty on them. The “40 Never LookedThisGood” banner hanging on the wall is accentuated with black streamers and more balloons. And sitting on my desk are enormous four and zero lights with bulbs flashing an assortment of colors. “Xena…”
“Yes?”
I start at the familiar male voice behind me and turn to find not only my brother, but my sister, and what looks like every employee who works in our downtown office. All of them grinning like it’s five o’clock on Friday night and they’ve got hot dates, rather than eight on Monday morning when most of them aren’t due in until eight-thirty. “All of you knew about this?”
Nods and chuckles andhappy birthdaysreverberate through the group.
“And the eight-thirty meeting with the three of us?” I ask Cameron and Aileene.
“Pushed back to nine.” Cam hangs his arm around my shoulders, directing me out of my office. “First, cake.” He shoots his finger in the air as if he’s Julius Caesar leading his troops into battle.
The group cheers, and we march to the break room, which is decorated in much the same way as my office—minus the floor being covered in balloons. In the middle of the table is a four-tiered cupcake holder with black and white frosted cupcakes, each topped with a golden 40. Anchoring either side of the cupcakes are two tastefully arranged bouquets in vibrant reds, yellows, blues, and greens… of condoms.
Only at a company that produces condoms would such bouquets not only be possible but appropriate. One of the many reasons I love my job, this company, and the people who work here.
“Please tell me those cupcakes are from Bliss Bakery.” My mouth waters at the thought of cake from my favorite bakery in the city.
Cam slaps me on the back. “Only the best for myolderbrother.”
Aileene hands me a cupcake while Cam leads the group in chanting, “Speech. Speech. Speech. Speech.”
Who knew how riled up a bunch of scientists, accountants, and marketing people could get over an early morning shot of sugar?
I signal for them to quiet down, and when they do, I lift my cupcake. “Thank you all for recognizing this milestone birthday for me. Even though I said I’d rather keep it quiet…” Playfully, I glare at my siblings, and the group laughs. “But more importantly, thank you for being a part of this company and for making it the kind of workplace that makes Monday mornings something to look forward to. We wouldn’t be who we are without each one of you.”
“Here, here,” Cam shouts before popping an entire cupcake into his big mouth, and the group falls into stories about kids, spouses, and their weekend.
Aileene wraps her arms around my waist as I bite into the black forest chocolate deliciousness. “Happy Birthday, Finny. We couldn’t let it pass without cake of some sort.”
I kiss the top of my sister’s strawberry blonde head. “Thanks, Leenie.”
