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  Breezy

  Kelsie Rae

  Breezy

  By Kelsie Rae

  Copyright © 2018 Kelsie Rae

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. The reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Breezy

  Copyright © Kelsie Rae

  Cover Art by Sly Fox Cover Designs

  Editing by Stephanie Taylor

  June 2018 Edition

  Published in the United States of America

  Contents

  1. Bree

  2. Bree

  3. Bree

  4. Bree

  5. Bree

  6. Bree

  7. Bree

  8. Bree

  9. Bree

  10. Bree

  11. Bree

  12. Bree

  13. Derrick

  14. Bree

  15. Derrick

  16. Bree

  17. Bree

  18. Derrick

  19. Bree

  20. Bree

  21. Derrick

  22. Derrick

  23. Bree

  24. Derrick

  25. Bree

  26. Derrick

  27. Bree

  28. Derrick

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Also by Kelsie Rae

  Jude

  About the Author

  Fun Fact:

  I don’t do mushy stuff. If I did, I’d dedicate Breezy to my hubby and Tasha for convincing me to write a book in the first place.

  Instead, I’ll dedicate it to Anna from Frozen and Rapunzel from Tangled for being quirky little characters and not giving a crap for it.

  This one’s for you, girls!

  Blurb

  Breezy comes from a place without hurricanes, but that’s never stopped her from blowing in and causing chaos wherever she goes. She's feisty, energetic, and unafraid to speak her mind. She's also a hot mess in need of a job.

  Derrick is used to dealing with all types of people. After all, he owns his own business. But when he meets Breezy, she impacts him harder than any storm ever could. Too bad even the gorgeous new girl in HR can't make him break his one rule: no dating employees. Ever.

  There's just one problem. Breezy’s never been good at following directions, and her boss isn't the only one with a serious office crush. Can the new girl convince him to throw caution to the wind?

  1

  Bree

  “Shit,” I mumble under my breath, kneeling down on the cold laminate floor of the restaurant where I’m currently working. I always thought my older brother, Luke, was full of crap when he made fun of my clumsiness, but apparently he was more on target than I gave him credit for.

  I’ve been working at Tumblers for four months and have spilled things more times than I can count. I’m pretty sure the only reason I haven’t been fired yet is because Luke is friends with my manager, Scott. Or Scotty Boy, as I like to call him.

  That being said, I’m wondering if he should just put me out of my misery and fire my clumsy ass. But if he does that, I’ll be royally screwed unless I can find another job… and fast. One that isn’t in the restaurant industry, obviously. And if the past six months have taught me anything, it’s that jobs are freaking hard to come by!

  Let me rephrase that: Jobs in my graduating profession, when you don’t have previous experience, are hard to come by.

  When I finally do get a job in my profession, I’ll be hanging on to that bad boy come hell or high water.

  I graduated about six months ago with a Human Resources degree, which is fan-freaking-tastic, but have had no luck finding a job. They all want previous experience, which is impossible to have if no one will hire you in the first place! It’s one of those, Which came first, the chicken or the egg? scenarios. I need the experience to get a job, but I need a job to get the experience.

  Hence my current kneeling position, cleaning up nachos with diet coke splashed all over my white blouse.

  Well... it was white.

  I’m sure I’ll be laughing about this tomorrow, but right now I really want to punch the asshole who bumped in to me, causing me to spill nachos all over myself and the stranger in booth 14.

  “I am so sorry!” I apologize as I scrape melted cheese off a pair of expensive-looking black loafers. I’m currently scrambling underneath the table, practically giving the guy a shoe shine, and feeling a bit too guilty to stand up and face the victim whose shoes I’ve most likely ruined.

  Well, I didn’t ruin them. But I’m going to have to take the fall for it anyway.

  Dammit. I’m totally losing my job. At least I have an interview tomorrow, right?

  I attempt to clean the mess with my dirty rag and hear chuckling near my bent position on the floor.

  Looking up, I’m met with a pair of gorgeous icy-blue eyes glinting at my compromising position. His smug face is mere inches from my own.

  He’s laughing at me!

  I feel a blush creep into my cheeks before I clear my throat and crawl out from underneath the table.

  I clench my fists at my sides ready to defend my clumsiness, even though it wasn’t really my fault, when the stranger in front of me lifts his hands in mock surrender, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline.

  Apparently, he’s good at reading body language. Or maybe he can feel the anger radiating off me in waves. Regardless, I can feel his eyes scanning me from head to toe, taking in my dark, curly hair piled on top of my head along with my still-soaked formerly white blouse and black pencil skirt that likes to hug my curvy hips.

  I’m an absolute mess, and I don’t exactly appreciate him making that assessment.

  Taking a deep breath through my nose, I remind myself that he is not the enemy. The jackass who bumped in to me is, and if I want to keep my job then I need to play nice with the customers.

  Even the condescending ones.

  I refuse to acknowledge that Hot Nacho Guy is ridiculously handsome and absolutely huge. He reminds me of a Viking warrior with a broad chest, tapered waist, and muscular thighs that also seem to be covered in ground beef and tortilla chips.

  Oops.

  I’m feeling a little guilty as I evaluate the damage to the poor guy’s stained pants before making my way back to his face and admiring his crystal blue eyes once more, along with his messy blonde hair, stubble-covered cheeks, and lickable tan skin.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my cheeks heat all over again.

  Lickable Breezy? Really?

  I peek one eye open and find myself staring at Hot Nacho Guy’s frosty eyes for a third time. There’s a smirk plastered on his stupidly handsome face. And I just spotted a dimple in his left cheek.

  Dammit!

  I’m a sucker for dimples.

  I swallow my pride, its bitter taste lingering in my mouth. “I’m sorry about your pants and shoes.” I motion awkwardly toward his lower half. Hot Nacho Guy glances down at his soiled clothes.

  His deep chuckle reverberates through me as he shrugs his broad shoulders and reaches forward to shake my hand. “Not the first time I’ve been covered with cheese. Won’t be the last. I’m Derrick.”

  I place my hand in his warm palm, its heat causing my insides to melt just like the cheddar on his pants. He shakes my hand once before releasing it. “Not the first time?” I tease, placing my hands on my hips with my eyebrows raised. “Do you make a habit of spilling food in your lap?”

  He laughs again, shaking his
head back and forth before replying. His voice is a bit of a gruff baritone that causes me to shiver slightly. “Technically, I’m not the one that spilled the cheese,” he looks at my name tag, “Rylee. But my nieces and nephews have made a mess of my clothes a time or two.”

  I’m confused as to why he’s called me the wrong name. Then I peek at my name tag. It does, in fact, read, “Rylee.” I must have grabbed the wrong one in the breakroom, but I decide not to correct Hot Nacho Guy. I mean Derrick. My lack of attention to detail may have just saved my job. A mischievous smirk graces my lips before I quickly hide it behind my hand, faking a light cough.

  “Ah, yes. Those blasted nieces and nephews. How dare your siblings procreate!” I flirt, shaking my fist in the air in mock frustration, causing him to chuckle once again.

  “They’re the worst!” Derrick agrees passionately, though I can tell he’s teasing. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

  I hesitate before answering. I’m wondering if I should answer as fake Rylee or real Bree, when I finally decide to give him an honest answer.

  “Yeah, actually. My brother had a baby boy a little while ago. I think he’s like six or seven months? Technically, it’s not his baby… it’s complicated. Either way, he’s my adopted nephew and is the absolute cutest thing on the planet. And you’re right about the messes during dinnertime. That kid’s a disaster!” I smirk at Derrick, noting that I’ve captured his full attention.

  “I don’t even mind cleaning up after meals. The worst part is that as soon as they start eating real food, their poop really reeks!” He laughs.

  My nose wrinkles at his incredibly apt description, knowing he’s not wrong. Last time I babysat Leo, I debated between searching for a gas mask or just hosing him off in the backyard. The smell was that bad.

  “Yeah, I don’t envy whoever’s on diaper duty in their household,” I joke before noticing a couple at a nearby table who are trying to grab my attention.

  Rylee is definitely going to get fired by the end of the night if I don’t get my butt in gear.

  “Well, let me bring you an appetizer or something for your trouble. I’m really sorry about the mess.” I start to make my way to the other table when Derrick’s gruff voice stops me.

  “Don’t worry about it Rylee. I don’t think I’d mind cleaning up your messes.” I glance over my shoulder at his off-handed comment, surprised to see his baby blue eyes still fixed on me. A flirtatious grin is plastered on his kissable lips as he continues to ignore the other two gentlemen in his booth.

  I wish we could continue our conversation. I’m curious to see where Derrick would take it. I fight to restrain my curiosity, knowing that Rylee will seriously kill me if any of my other customers voice a complaint. Instead, I quirk my eyebrow and give him my signature smirk before turning toward the other table, effectively ending our conversation. Even so, it stays on constant replay through my mind for the rest of the night.

  2

  Bree

  The next morning I head into a large brick building for a job interview in my actual degree field. Trust me when I say it’s an absolute miracle. Technically, I’m interviewing for the assistant to the head of Human Resources position. But it still counts.

  I don’t think I can handle smelling like fried foods any longer, and I’ll take anything I can get. I’m pretty sure that scent is starting to seep into my pores.

  I decided to wear black slacks and a silver-gray blouse with deep red heels that match my lipstick. Red lipstick screams confidence, and I desperately need it today. My hair is in a sleek, low bun, and the fly-aways are sprayed back, miraculously staying in place. For once.

  My toes anxiously tap against the marble tile in the reception area of the new tech company where I’m interviewing. It’s a fresh, innovative business that creates budgeting apps similar to Mint. Apparently, they’re pretty new, but the CEO has already made an insane amount of money off an idea he had right after earning his Bachelor’s degree.

  I can’t help but feel like I’m at a smaller version of Google headquarters as I scan the open floor plan. Huge windows cover every wall, giant bean bags are scattered all around, large TV screens hang in various locations, and men are lounging, drinking Red Bull, and playing video games.

  Smiling inwardly, I know how much Jake, my younger brother, would love it here. I’m pretty sure he couldn’t dream of a better place to work.

  Laughing to myself, I wonder how much work actually gets done at this place. Being in this environment reminds me of fraternities in college. All play and very little work ever accomplished. Not that I can blame them. Maybe they have company competitions, and I can whoop their asses? Growing up with brothers definitely had some benefits.

  An attractive older lady walks around the corner and effectively distracts me from my gaming daydream. She’s sporting a classic short haircut and is dressed in a flowery top with tan, high-waisted slacks. She calls my name while extending her hand in my direction.

  I stand, smooth my blouse, and reach for her outstretched palm. After shaking it and making the proper introductions, I follow her into the conference room. It’s really just a small office with a large glass table surrounded by four cushy chairs.

  “Take a seat, Ms. Jensen. I’m Kathy Westfield. Mr. McKinley and I will be conducting the interview. He should be here any minute, but let’s begin and let him catch up, shall we?” She smiles warmly, instantly calming the butterflies in my stomach.

  I nod my head politely as I take a seat across from Kathy, and we begin the interview.

  Kathy is the office manager and does everything from answering phones, to payroll, to taking care of everyone’s schedule. Essentially, she wants an assistant who can help her handle all the guys in the office, while teaching said assistant the ins and outs of recruiting, training, benefits, and the like.

  In short? It’s my dream job.

  I would kill to be able to actually use my degree, and having a mentor like Kathy would be a huge asset. She’s patient and kind, while still having a backbone. I can tell that she doesn’t take shit from all these frat boys, and I already love her for it.

  We’re just about to wrap things up when my phone begins to ring obnoxiously, playing the theme song from Rocky.

  Curse you Luke and your bad timing!

  I quickly grab my purse, digging through it until I finally reach my cell and silence the damn thing.

  When I look up to apologize, I catch a pair of familiar, icy-blue eyes scrutinizing me.

  “You’re not Bree Jensen,” Derrick states curtly, crossing his arms over his broad chest and leaning against the doorway.

  He’s wearing a light gray polo that makes his tan skin glow, and dark jeans that hug his thick thighs while hanging low on his hips. He looks as incredible as I remember. Maybe even more.

  Dammit.

  I feel like I might die from embarrassment as I chew on my lower lip, debating how to tell my possible future employer that I may or may not have lied to him the first time I met him. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks and silently curse the unfamiliar reaction that seems to happen every time I’m in the same room as this guy.

  I’m not shy, and I don’t blush. But he seems to bring it out of me.

  “Have something you want to say, Rylee?” Derrick demands, accusingly. He states my supposed name like it’s a curse word.

  Since I’m pretty sure my interview was blown the minute Hot Nacho Guy entered the room, I decide I might as well have a little fun with him. I take a deep breath and put on my signature poker face.

  “I’m sorry? You must be talking about my twin sister, Rylee. She works at Tumblers downtown. We are mistaken for each other all the time.” I smile innocently at him, batting my thick eyelashes and everything.

  The tension in his posture evaporates into thin air, and embarrassment floods his face. “My apologizes, Ms. Jensen. That was very rude of me to make such assumptions, and definitely unprofessional. Shall we begin the interview?” He takes
a seat across from me.

  My eyes practically bug out of my head as I realize he actually bought my load of total bullshit. I mean, I know my poker face is good, but I had no idea it was that good.

  “We were actually just finishing up, Derrick,” Kathy states. “She seems like a great candidate for the position.”

  I can’t decide whether I should keep up the shenanigans and lie to my employer for the foreseeable future, or if I should bite the bullet and come clean, losing any chance of a job offer even though I’m a great candidate like Kathy said.

  Alas, my mama raised me with a conscience, dammit, so I decide to confess my sins, interrupting Kathy’s praise.

  “I may or may not have made up the whole twin sister thing….” I shrug my shoulders while grimacing at the same time, feeling like a miniscule ant about to be burned alive under a magnifying glass. Derrick’s magnifying glass, to be exact.

  Derrick’s eyes snap up to meet my own, glaring right at me.

  “To be fair, I never told you my name was Rylee. You just assumed.” Inwardly, I cringe at my pathetic defense.

  Derrick rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re right. How dare I assume your name was the same one printed on your name tag?” He emphasizes the “name” in name tag, like I’m an idiot to try to place the blame on him. Which technically I am. But still.

  “You may have a valid point,” I concede begrudgingly before standing from my chair and reaching my hand across the table.