Whitney
“Good morning,Theo Hurst’s office, this is Whitney speaking,” I answer my phone absentmindedly as I pull up a Word document, hoping to get started on an outline for an online presentation Theo is giving at the end of the week.
Silence on the other end of the phone greets me and I glance over at my desk set, to make sure the line didn’t disconnect.
“Hello?” I say into the receiver.
Finally, whoever I’m on the call with clears their throat. “Whitney?”
“Yes?” I respond.
“As in, the Whitney I met at my gala last month?”
My eyes grow wide and I twist in my chair looking for something,anythingthat might convince me that I’m not on the phone with Theo’s mother right now.
But it’s no use.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hurst,” I respond, squeezing my eyes shut. Of all the days I had to answer the phone without looking at the caller ID. “What can I do for you this morning?”
“I was hoping to speak with my son,” she says. I hear her sniff and I can practically see her staring down her nose at me. “It appears he’s not answering any of my calls to his personal phone or answering my texts.”
“Theo is in an important meeting right now with regional development,” I inform her, keeping my tone professional. “I would be happy to take a message for you and let him know you called as soon as he’s free.”
“Yes, do that,” she says curtly, and I bite my tongue.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
It sounds like she’s thinking on the other line. “Yes, answer me this. Why are you answering my son’s work phone? I thought you came to the gala as his date. Am I incorrect?”
“No, ma’am,” I say, trying to ensure my voice doesn’t sound shaky. “I work for Theo. As his assistant.”
“I see,” she says, her voice dropping an octave. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Please do have my son call me at his earliest convenience. It seems I have much to discuss with him.”
“Of course,” I respond, just in time for her to click off the phone call.
“Any messages?” Theo asks as he shuffles through a few of the note cards I wrote up for him for his meeting this afternoon.
“Yes, actually.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Your mother called, and she seemed most perturbed that I was the one answering your office phone.”
Theo’s eyes snap to mine and his eyebrows pull in at the middle. “What did she say?”
“Not much, but she gave off the impression that she was about to have words with you for bringing yourassistantto hercharity gala last month.” I grimace as I say it, then bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.”
Theo’s large hand rests on my shoulder drawing my attention back to him. When I look at him, I see a soft expression on his face. He crouches down so he’s at eye level, his knees cracking as he goes, making me want to make a joke about his old age. But I don’t, my mind too distraught at the thought of his mother despising me for being beneath her son’s station.
“I’ll talk to her,” he says, holding my gaze steady. “Don’t let this bother you too much. For someone so focused on class, she can be very…” he hesitates, “uncouth, sometimes.”
“I don’t want her to hate me.”
“She couldn’t. Not if she gets the chance to get to know you,” he says as he trails his fingers down my arm. “I’m sorry, Whit. I hate that I wasn’t available to weather my mother for you.”
I give a shrug and force a smile. “It’s okay. Hopefully she’s not too mad at you.”
He laughs. “I can handle my mother, trust me. How about we get dinner tonight? Take your mind off this whole thing?”
“Oh, I can’t tonight.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Back to playing hard to get, huh?”
