Just Sign Here - Cara Dee Page 0,8
travels is Mathis’s responsibility, so just coordinate with him.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.” He followed me into the elevator and rubbed his forehead. Under his arm, he carried a paper planner. I didn’t know people used those these days. “But I was seriously kidding about the pay. I’d do it for half. Hell, I’d—”
“I would’ve paid the double.” I shrugged. “You’re not the best negotiator, are you?”
He shot me a frustrated look. “Dude. Halt. Stop. I was shooting blindly back there.” He gestured toward the suite.
“Good aim.”
“You don’t get it. Are you sure you wanna hire someone who’s never done this before? Even I’m on the fence, though not about the tasks—”
“What is it, then?” I wondered.
He released a breath and watched the elevator display flash with each floor we descended. “No amount of money will erase the fact that I’ve never been away from my family for more than two weeks at a time before,” he said. “I can’t fuck off for a whole year.”
I frowned at him. “You don’t think I will keep you away from them, do you? There are holidays and plenty of opportunities for you to fly out here for a quick visit.”
“Oh. Oh.” He appeared to have just lost an insurmountable weight off his shoulders. He shot me a dopey grin. “Do you think I’ll be able to go home once a month? Like, just overnight or something like that.”
I nodded slowly, thinking. “That would be your jet lag, not mine. But it should be doable. We have this week to negotiate the terms, then I want everything in writing.”
“Copy that.” He nodded and pinched his lips together, as if he was trying to hide his smile. It was sweet. “Can I ask you some questions in the car? I’d like to get to know you better so I can anticipate your needs.”
Sweet Jesus, those were the magic words, weren’t they?
“Sure.” I exited the elevator and checked my watch. Right on time. Mathis should be outside waiting.
“Before our flight tomorrow, I want you to pull some quarterly reports from the hotels that’ve undergone renovations in the past ten years,” I said, getting in the car. One meeting down, three to go. “The quarter before and two quarters after renovations. Start with the West Coast locations.”
“Yes, sir.”
I side-eyed him as he made notes in the planner. He had my phone open on the page too. “You’re not going to ask if you need verification at headquarters?”
“No, sir,” he replied. “A man looking for answers doesn’t want questions.” He slid me a little grin. “It’s better I ask someone else about this. In short, I’ll figure it out.”
Hm. Interesting. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but it was his first day. I’d never had an assistant before who hadn’t been trained by the previous assistant.
That was a terrific phrase, however. A man looking for answers doesn’t want questions. I bet Hilton would be sad to lose such a service-minded employee. I smiled to myself and peered out the window.
“Back to personal matters,” he announced. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black, simple. I’m not fussy when I’m traveling,” I replied. “It irritates me when I’m in a lunch meeting and someone has to order an organic soy mocha latte with a double shot of vegan espresso. Christ. Just order black, with milk or sugar. Nobody wants to know that you only shower once a month or that your wife’s put you on a new diet.”
Peyton spluttered through a snicker and made a couple notes. “Old-school with a passionate resentment toward hipsters.”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking or if he’d written that down, but he wasn’t wrong this time either.
“You said you’re not fussy when you’re traveling,” he went on. “What about when you’re at home?”
“Same, almost. Black, very strong, but Cathryn introduced me to a hazelnut syrup I’ll treat myself to. Just a splash of it.”
He nodded slowly and jotted it down.
It filled me with contentment. A slow rush of warmth that settled over my chest.
“Any dietary restrictions or allergies?” he asked next.
“None, but I avoid fresh tomatoes if I can,” I said. “The world’s most overrated vegetable. It rarely belongs on the plate, if you ask me. Tomatoes should be crushed. I do like marinara and such, but for salads…?” I shuddered. “Don’t get me started on burgers. Way to ruin a perfectly good meal.”
I’d amused Peyton again for some reason.
My last meeting before lunch was a bit different. I’d spent my time in Seattle meeting with managers