Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle(7)

“I can report to work tomorrow, then?” I ask hopefully.

“Human resources will need to see you at eight in the morning on the twentieth floor. Bring your identification and you’ll have a picture ID made.” He sets the folder on the chair separating us and taps it. “That has a map of all three casinos, a list of staff, and your access codes for parking and the executive floor after hours.”

I push to my feet, afraid someone will find another challenge for me to hurdle before this day is over. “Terrific,” I say, shoving hair out of my eyes, behind my ear, beyond caring how I look right now. I wonder if I’d feel the same if Mr. Ward were here. Somehow, I don’t think so. “Thank you.”

Terrance stands up, too. “Eager to get out of here?” he teases, and his friendliness is easily received, genuine, welcome after the day I’ve had.

I snort, and it’s not my most ladylike moment. “I’ve gone from new reporter at the local paper, to jobless, to assistant to the CEO of one of the biggest casino operations in Las Vegas in about twelve hours. It’s been the world’s longest roller-coaster ride of a day.”

“Well, then,” he says, reaching for the folder and handing it to me, “consider this a get-out-of-jail-free pass. Bring it in with you tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes,” I say, embarrassed that I’ve forgotten my paperwork. “Thank you. Thanks for everything.”

“No problem, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know. You’re working at a high level. If you see a problem, speak up.”

“I will. Absolutely.” I’m encouraged by his friendliness, which matches Dana’s. Maybe everything corporate doesn’t have to leave me black-and-blue.

“Good.” He inclines his chin. “And good night.”

“Good night.” I start to leave and then remember the explosion on my new desk. Turning back, I ask, “Can I stop by my office?”

“I thought you were eager to get out of here.”

“I am, but there was a mess on the desk when I arrived, like someone maliciously destroyed paperwork. As tired as I am, it doesn’t seem good to leave it like that overnight, especially since I’ll be in HR first thing tomorrow.”

“That was cleaned up while you were gone.”

“Oh,” I say, and my curiosity gets the best of me. “What happened?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Thank goodness they have nine lives,” I joke. “I assume whoever left my job wasn’t very happy?”

“As every sad Texas song says, goodbye isn’t always easy.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Not all us Texans love country music, but my horse is parked outside. I hope you don’t mind?”

He grins. “Sense of humor. I approve, but I still can’t disclose information on any employee’s departure.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be appropriate of you, but …” I hesitate, then ask, “if you were gambling on me being here in a year, what would you say my odds are?”

“I’m not the one who has to gamble on you. And since your new boss isn’t a gambling man, I’d presume he feels you have what it takes to do the job and stay around.”

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” A blast of emotion overcomes me. Unwilling to let him read my weakness, I quickly head for the door, hating how needy I am for the reassurance I don’t feel he’s given me. It’s that “alone” word Mr. Ward used. It has inched its way under my skin and stayed there.

“Kali.”

I pause at my name and glance over my shoulder at Terrance. “Yes?”

“He’d go without help rather than settle for less than the best.”

Relief washes over me, and my lips curve into a smile. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later I slide into the rental car, and a sigh escapes from deep inside me. Mr. Ward might not be a gambler, but he chose me. And I’m choosing to look at my career in a new way because of him. We are the closest thing to a relationship I’ve had in a very long time.

* * *

I stop by the grocery store on the way to the hotel I checked in to upon arriving in Vegas last night. It’s nearly nine when I enter my small but functional room and unload my purchases in the fridge, heavy on the microwave dinners. Even if I wanted to win a man’s heart, which I don’t, I will never do it through his stomach. My mom was the gourmet, and as much as she tried to teach me, I enjoyed eating more than preparing meals. Well, right up until puberty, when I had to start watching just how much I sampled.

By nine-thirty I’ve already showered and changed into sweats, eaten a microwave dinner, and looked up the bus schedule. I was considering letting go of my rental and saving the cash I had set aside for a used car. Instead, I decide to hang on to the rental for a few more days and leave my belongings stored with the moving company. I’ll stay here, and if things go well, I’ll try to get into an apartment before the holiday.