"Yeah." I stepped back to the bathroom. "I gotta feed the cows, but I'll be back. Promise."
Then I closed the bathroom door, leaned against the wall, and sighed. He wasn't bullshitting me. He wasn't playing me. None of this was a lie, and all of it was real. I'd spent the night with Cy, showered with Ash, and had sex with Violet. This should be an absolute nightmare, but all I kept thinking was that I'd found heaven. Maybe it was hell. I wasn't real sure, but I knew I liked it a little too much.
And it felt so fucking right.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Luke was barely through the door before I was on my phone. It was Friday, the end of the week, and I had a new employee to check up on. First, I scrolled through my emails as I made my way downstairs to my office. I couldn't find anything outstanding. She had a few questions, but I was ok with that. I also wanted to know how the revenue was looking.
I dropped down at my desk - which was currently an old drafting table - and dialed my office line. On the second ring, it picked up. "Ashton Walker's office, Leslie Bancroft speaking."
"Leslie," I said, "It's Ash. How are things?"
"Hi, Mr. Walker - Ash," she said, then laughed softly. "Still working on that part. The fall catalogue is printing and we'll start mailing those out next week. I rejected three designs for the line and sent them to you to make sure. I've got the first Monday of August booked for you to have in person meetings. First one starts at noon, is that ok?"
"Perfect," I assured her. "I need you to do something else. Our advertising options. Can you see if you can get a billboard in the middle of a place called Cats Peak, Texas? There's only the one cross street, and it's right on the corner. Sadly, I don't remember the numbers of the roads offhand."
"Ok?" she asked. "Any special reason?"
"Because it's about a mile away from Southwind. If you can get a package deal for the area, that works too. I have a feeling we're missing a bit of a market, and I kinda want to run a test. These hillbillies are all broke, our stuff isn't expensive, and I think we've been pushing the wrong demographic."
"I'll make sure marketing knows it's coming from you," she said. "When do you want this to happen?"
"Soon. The sooner the better. Maybe do a run for our fall catalogue and the website. Make it easy for people to check us out." Then I tapped through a few of the emails on my phone. "I'll also save you some time. I'm not working with Victoria's Secret. They want to buy us out. They call every year, and they try to convince me that we can't make it without a backer."
"Then I'll cancel that meeting," she assured me.
"Ok, this next thing is a personal favor. I need to get some fucking internet out here that isn't from the dark ages. I don't even know where to start with that, but I figure someone there will. Can you outsource that for me?"
"Sure can, Ash." Then she made a little noise. "Um, I was looking at my fall schedule for classes. I'll be out for three hours during the day, is that going to be a problem?"
"Not at all," I assured her. "Oh, and I want you to start answering that line with, 'Leslie Bancroft, Chief Operating Officer.' Hopefully, you're also sitting at my desk."
"I kinda am," she admitted. "It was just easier than running back to the other room all the time."
"Well, if this works out, that's going to be your desk. Get a temp to screen your calls, say, starting at the first of next month." Then I paused. "You overwhelmed yet?"
"Learning on the fly," she assured me. "Ash, you really want me to be the COO?"
"Yeah, I kinda do. I also know that it's a big change, so don't think that I expect you to nail it. Any time you feel like you're over your head, call me. This is working, though."
"And the romance?" she asked, a smile creeping into her voice.
"Better than I could've expected." But I remembered something else. "Hey, social media. I'm going to take back my personal account and Violet's. Have Risqué make an announcement that I'm spending some time in the country or something. A formal acknowledgement that I'm no longer working in the office?"
"Taking notes," she promised. "You want this vague or blatant?"
"Make it sound like a promotion," I decided. "Starting a new venture. Maybe something about Southwind? No, I don't want to use the name."
"Philanthropy," she offered. "Oh, and I re-routed your postal mail to the address there. Changed the emergency contact for your apartment to this office, and put myself on it as an authorized assistant. I may have forged your signature to do that."
"You're fine," I assured her. "It's also a good idea. I'll have them send a spare key to you, just in case. And if your boyfriend comes into town and you want to borrow the place, just let me know so I don't walk in."
She giggled again. "He doesn't believe I'm really doing this."
"Well, you are. Now, is there any other crisis I have to handle?"
"Not really. I mean, there was a sexual harassment complaint in the layout office, but the guy was fired, the woman was given a counseling pension, and it all seems to be ok."
