Fair Lakes Series Box Set - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,180

as the technician on the phone asks me to accept his computerized call to log into our system. “Yep, you’re in,” I say into the phone.

“They already did,” Harrison states.

Closing my eyes and exhaling, I turn to face my brother-in-law. “Tell them I’ll call them back. I can’t talk into two phones at once, so I’ll deal with the diapers when I’m done with the payroll,” I tell him, not able to mask my annoyance.

Harrison nods quickly, making a mad retreat like I might actually bite his head off if he remains by my desk for even a single second longer. I watch as the technician goes through the software, making a few adjustments and updates along the way. I try to focus on what he’s doing, or even the diaper mess that awaits me the moment I get this payroll mess cleaned up, but let’s be honest, that’s not where my mind is.

It’s on the little boy who’s spending the day with my sister.

Milo.

It’s my second day back to work since he arrived on our doorstep last week, and I’m feeling the loss tremendously. I’ve texted Gwen no less than eight times today, just to check in, which is an improvement over yesterday’s fourteen. Little things like reminding her of his eating schedule, how he likes you to sing the choo-choo song when changing his diaper, or to relay the fact that he was up from two until about three-thirty this morning, wide awake.

Again.

This was all info I shared with her when I dropped him off, yet that doesn’t stop me from fretting about it all damn day.

And it’s not just me. I could tell Chase was struggling too. We hung around a few extra minutes this morning, Chase making sure Milo was changed and snuggled into Sophia’s old swing before he slowly made his way to the front door like a man on death row. And that was an improvement over the day before. The first day, drop off took forty-five minutes, and I cried.

A lot.

“There you go, ma’am. It looks like you missed a recent update with the new tax modifications. Your system is up-to-date now and should compute correctly,” he says, breaking me out of my baby blues funk and back to the present. It also doesn’t go unnoticed that he called me ma’am, like I’m fifty-three years old. Do I sound that old?

Unable to hide my irritation, I reply, “Thank you.”

“Unless there’s anything else, you’re all set today, ma’am.”

I sigh, closing my eyes.

Ma’am.

I’m probably ten years younger than this guy. Who is he calling ma’am?

“Nothing today,” I grumble, disconnecting before I can say anything else that’ll probably get me written up.

“Is payroll ready? I was supposed to leave five minutes ago,” my boss asks politely as he steps into my office.

I turn and give him a look. Not just any look, but the look. The one that says I’m going to kill you in your sleep and hide the body where no one will ever find it if you don’t step back for five fucking seconds.

“We’ve got time,” he replies quickly, his eyes wide with fear. Rubbing the back of his neck, Harrison adds, “You just tell me when you’re ready.” Then, another hasty retreat from my office.

I hit the keys a little too hard as I finish imputing everyone’s time. The program does exactly what it’s supposed to do, computing the correct deductions and withholdings, and before I know it, paychecks are printing.

Except when they’re not.

I glance over at the offending printer, knowing I put enough checks in the tray for today’s payroll run, and find the red light flashing on top.

Toner.

Mother of God in heaven, is there anything else that can go wrong today?

“Hey, Gabby, the toilet in the men’s locker room is overflowing. Can you call the plumber?” one of the trainers asks as he steps around the corner.

I glance up, my face probably as red as the maroon Nike tank top sculpted to his perfectly chiseled torso. He’s not a bad-looking guy and he knows it, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Chase Callahan.

Before I can even formulate a reply that involves the words death, fuck-off, and beatdown, Harrison practically comes sprinting into the office. “I’ll make that call, Dane. Gabby’s a little busy right now, so why don’t you step into my office and we’ll call the plumber.” Dane glances my way, clearly noticing the eye-daggers I’m throwing at him, and follows our boss into his office in a