Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter One

HOLLY

OH, NO, NO, NO. HE can’t be here. Not today. I had zero warning. I panicked when I saw the corner of a bright-blue sticky note hidden carefully among the files on my desk. It had been years since I’d gotten such a note. I’d hoped never to get one again.

You see, I do my best to avoid the following people in my life: My most annoying coworker, my brother’s best friend, the first boy to kiss me, and my gynecologist. The last one is just a given. As nice a man as Dr. Bergman is, I don’t want to run into him at the grocery store. He knows me in ways I try not to think about. Also, I’m kind of salty because he never warms up his speculum and only provides me with basically a paper towel to cover up with during my annual exam. Is it too much to ask for at least a hospital gown? However, if I had to choose between Dr. Bergman and the other three on the list, I would choose him any day over Brandon Cassidy.

Brandon Cassidy—the annoying coworker, my brother’s best friend, and my first kiss all wrapped up in one egotistical package. It was my life’s goal to avoid the man at all costs. Thankfully, he worked out of our Charlotte office and only visited headquarters about once a year—one time too many, in my opinion. But since his dad is the CEO and owner, I couldn’t voice that opinion. Whenever these unfortunate visits occurred, I employed all my best covert avoidance tactics. Even if it meant working from the ladies’ room. A little toilet flushing didn’t bother me. Besides, the restroom had a lounge with a comfy couch in it, and you heard the best gossip there. All I had to do was tell people I was having period issues and no one ever questioned it.

Thankfully, I was usually apprised beforehand of his visits. Brandon was, after all, heir to the throne and beloved by all here at Elevate Technologies. The fatted calf was slain every time he rolled into town. It surprised me he didn’t wear a robe and crown and make everyone kiss his ring as he walked by.

I had a sinking feeling my beforehand-notice luck had just run out. I wasn’t sure how this had happened—I’d only stepped away from my desk for a few minutes. And I hadn’t heard the ticker-tape parade that usually accompanied the return of the crown prince. But the corner of the bright-blue sticky note was proof he was on the premises. All I could do was numbly stare at it.

I couldn’t understand why, after all this time, he would do such a thing. We hadn’t spoken to each other since I was seventeen, the same age I’d been when I left him my final sticky note. I’d quoted Shakespeare: Let’s meet as little as we can. I do desire we may be better strangers . I had never written truer words. He had become a stranger to me after kissing me, then telling Christian he’d only done it as a dare. I was just a punch line to his joke. He didn’t care that he’d broken my heart or that I’d cried for days. Not once did he apologize. In fact, he pretty much ignored me except for the notes he occasionally left me until he went off to college. He’d only tried talking to me once after the unthinkable happened.

I pushed the unthinkable out of my mind. Work wasn’t the place to let that tragedy, or everything that followed, consume me.

Instead, I snapped out of my stupor, snatched the note out of the folder, and read it.

You’re like a gray sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake.

Wow. I guess at thirty-two he was still an immature jerk. Although no one else would believe it—he was beloved by all around here, the top account executive in the entire company. He could sell our cloud-based HR software solutions and close deals in his sleep. And it’s not like I didn’t already know he thought I was dull. Sadly, he was probably right. We couldn’t all be rainbow sprinkles like Brandon. Not that I actually wanted to be—I detested sprinkles on anything. Why ruin a good cupcake with crunchy, stale-tasting little pebbles?

I crumpled up his stupid note and threw it in the wastebasket under my standing desk. This was the worst day for him to breeze into town. I was already depressed because Marisol, the account executive I had been working under as her business development representative, was leaving the company to be at home with her kiddos. While that was noble and wonderful, I’d begged her to stay. I’d even offered to watch her children at work. She didn’t think that was a viable alternative. But we were the dynamic duo in this office. She was the second-best account executive in the company, and I was the bam to her pow. I didn’t want to bam and pow with anyone else.

Especially because I had a feeling my boss, Camille, was going to stick me with Jason, Mr. I-still-use-Axe-body-spray. I seriously thought they’d banned that stuff in the twenty tens. Maybe I should get a petition going to turn the ban into a reality. While Jason was a top performer and knew how to get the job done, he acted too much like a used-car salesman. The overcologning just made me dread the possibility of working with him even more.

Honestly, it surprised me that Camille hadn’t reassigned me yet. Marisol had let them know months ago she would be leaving in November.

Maybe upper management was waiting for me to finally accept an account executive position, which they’d offered me several times in the seven years I’d worked there. But sales wasn’t in my blood—I didn’t know how to schmooze people. Could I explain the facts like I was presenting to a jury? Yes. That was in my blood.

Although I would never realize my dream of becoming a lawyer, I didn’t want to stay at Elevate Technologies forever. I was only here out of necessity. I needed a good-paying job that wasn’t overly stressful so I could take care of my dad. Bertram Cassidy, Brandon’s dad, had provided me with that opportunity. And for that, I would be forever grateful to him. Someday, though, I would have to come up with a new dream. You know, after I stopped being afraid to dream again .

“Hey, St. James,” my boss, the director of sales, startled me. She called everyone by their last names.

I turned and grinned at Camille, or Tua, as we sometimes called her. Although she grew up in Hawaii, she was of Samoan descent and towered over most people in the office, including me at a paltry five foot six compared to her over-six-foot frame. Some found her intimidating, but inside, she was really a gooey gummy bear. Unless you crossed her or didn’t do your job—then watch out.

“What’s up?” I asked, as if I didn’t know why she had come to talk to me.

Camille tilted her gorgeous head, graced with the darkest most enviable long curls ever. “Are you purposely avoiding Marisol’s going away party?”

Yes, yes, I was. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Goodbyes were the worst. And I’d had too many of them in my life. So while I listened to everyone partying in the common area on our floor, the enterprise level, I couldn’t bring myself to join in just yet.

“Um ... I’m coming. I just need to send some last-minute emails before the holiday.” Which was true. Besides, I feared Brandon was lurking around. No doubt he was probably partying it up with everyone. He never missed an opportunity to shine and work a crowd.

She narrowed her deep-brown eyes. “No one’s going to read them.”

Of course, she was right. It was late afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving. Anyone who was working this week had probably clocked out mentally on Monday. But I was mourning the change coming my way, and I would admit to fearing contact with Brandon. It would just be awkward, and I might have the urge to be juvenile and slip him a sticky note to tell him he was as useless as ... an unsalted pretzel. Yikes, that was kind of lame. I was out of practice, as I should be. I would be thirty years old soon.

Truth be told, I hadn’t bought or used a sticky note since I was seventeen. Those bright little squares held too many memories.

“I’ll be right there,” I promised.

“Very good.”

I nodded, knowing she wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “Hey, have you decided who you’re going to pair me with?” I thought that was important to know, since come Monday morning I would need a new account executive to work with. I hadn’t been told who was taking over Marisol’s accounts. Even so, I was doing my best to keep up with them. I didn’t want to lose any momentum.

Camille looked to the floor and cleared her throat. “We’ll discuss that on Monday after the holiday.”

What? No. No. No. I need to know now. How can I enjoy the long weekend with this hanging over my head? “Am I getting fired?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Camille’s head snapped up. “Of course not. You’re one of the best employees here. We’re just making some adjustments to the team.”

“Okay,” I said uneasily. Adjustments didn’t sound all that good. It sounded more like a chiropractor wrenching my neck and back.

“See you soon.” She turned and walked away, not letting me get another word in.

Taking a deep, worried breath, I paused to admire the breathtaking view outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The sun gradually descended behind the majestic snow-covered mountains, casting a warm, golden, pinkish glow on the city. It didn’t matter that I had lived in Colorado most of my life—the mountain scenery spoke to my soul even as the hustle and bustle of the Denver Tech Center in Greenwood Village, where our office was located, hummed below.

But not even the gorgeous scenery could calm my nerves today. I had a bad feeling about these so-called adjustments.

Then, as if on cue, those bad feelings intensified when a sexy, smooth voice filled the air. “Hi, Holly.” Brandon hadn’t said my name in years, and I hated how good it sounded coming from his deceitful mouth.

No. No. No. This wasn’t happening. First the note, and now he talks to me? I stood frozen, staring out the window, feeling trapped like a wounded teenager once again. It was then I remembered I was no longer that girl. I’d overcome things I’d never expected, so I turned around, intending to just walk off, until the sight of Brandon had me stopping in my tracks.

For all his faults, apparently known only by me, Brandon was, in a word, beautiful. He’d grown up to possess the striking Henry Cavill jawline, with prominent brow ridges and high cheekbones. A perfectly groomed layer of stubble adorned his handsome face, adding to his irresistible charm. Not that he was irresistible to me. Definitely not—except that once. Okay, maybe twice. Fine, a handful of times. But I was a teenager, and I’d learned my lesson—Brandon Cassidy was evil. It didn’t matter that he looked like a demigod with a wavy quiff and classic gentleman’s hair. Long gone were the swooping bangs.

“I’m going to the party.” I pointed in the wrong direction, stuttering like a fool.

Brandon gaped at me, seeming as tongue tied as I was. Weird.

I looked down at my soft-pink V-neck sweater, assuming I’d spilled something on it for how hard he was staring. It couldn’t be that I fascinated him, since he’d just called me a gray sprinkle. It was obvious from our teen years he only thought of me as the plain girl next door.

Remembering I didn’t need to stay, I walked off, congratulating myself for not telling him off about the note. This way, he would know he hadn’t gotten to me.

“Holly, wait. I just wanted to tell you I look forward to working with you.”

I spun around so fast I felt woozy. “Excuse me?”

He ran a hand over his hair. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” That life was playing another cruel joke on me?

“Damn,” he whispered. “I thought my dad told you already.”

“Told me what?” That he hated me?

Enter Bertram Cassidy stage left, as if on cue, grinning and looking well. For a man in his late fifties, Bertram’s face had hardly a wrinkle on it—only some crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He was just an older, gray-haired version of his son. Which meant he possessed incredible distinction and handsomeness. Which also meant Brandon would continue to be a babe forever. It was so unfair.

“Holly,” Bertram said my name like an affectionate father, opening his arms and inviting me in for a hug.

I always took him up on it. While I loved my dad, Bertram offered me the comfort and stability my father had seemed incapable of for the last several years. I missed the days when I could count on the man who was my first hero.

Wrapping my arms around Bertram, I let myself sink into his tender embrace. He smelled like spearmint, expensive cologne, and better times—days when I thought my future and life were all set.

“How are you, honey?” Bertram asked.

“Um ... I’ve been better.” I couldn’t lie. How could Bertram do this to me? I thought he and Lauren, his wife, loved me. They knew Brandon and I didn’t get along.

“I let the cat out of the bag,” Brandon admitted.

I wanted to shove that dang cat right back in the bag. Even though I loved cats and was against any type of animal cruelty. But this cat was like the spawn of Satan.

Bertram gave me a good squeeze before releasing me and offering me a thoughtful glance. He and his wife did that often. I knew they wished they could fix all the things that had gone wrong in my life, but that wasn’t their job. They had already done so much, including paying me generously for someone in my position. If the other business development reps knew what I made, they would be livid. It was why I always gave my job more than my all. But Bertram’s glance also spoke of more.

“Holly. Brandon. Let’s take this into the conference room.” Bertram waved toward the Bat Cave. All the conference rooms had fun names.

In a daze, I walked toward the glass door Brandon had rushed to open. I couldn’t even look at him as I walked past him into the glass-walled conference room. The open-concept workspaces, while beautiful and fun, with rock-climbing walls and free snacks in the spacious dining area, offered zero privacy. What would people think if they walked by and saw me in there with the CEO and the heir apparent? I’d tried my best to keep my connection to the Cassidys on the DL. Mostly because I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me that I’d once lived a charmed life that was now ... well ... different.

“Please have a seat.” Bertram pulled out a chair for me as soon as he entered.

I sank into it, wringing my hands and wondering how this was possible. Brandon didn’t even live in Colorado. Not that a remote type of situation couldn’t happen, but even so, I wouldn’t want to work with Brandon. If my dad didn’t currently count on my income, I might think about resigning on the spot. It appeared I would have to summon up some bravery sooner rather than later and let myself dream again ... or just find another good-paying job. That was the ticket. Unfortunately, the holidays were upon us, which meant most companies wouldn’t bring anyone new on board until at least January.

Bertram and Brandon took seats across from me.

“Holly,” Bertram began, “I apologize for not speaking to you sooner. This was an unexpected development.” He smiled at his son. “Brandon will be in town through the holidays,” he said, as if relieved.

I’d gotten the feeling from some things Lauren had said over the years that Brandon, like me, struggled with what was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. Oh, had it ever been, once upon a time. It made sense Brandon found the season difficult. He had, after all, endured a front-row seat to the unimaginable. Again, not thinking about it. At least not here.

“With that said”—Bertram focused back on me—“while Brandon is in town, I would like you to work with him. He’ll be taking on some of Marisol’s accounts. And no one knows those accounts better than you.” He took a breath and leaned forward. “Holly, you are the best BDR we’ve ever had. No one gets in the door like you. Your research skills and tenacity are second to none and have helped us close more deals than I can count.” He was doing his best to butter me up.

I had no words, so I just stared at Bertram blankly, doing my absolute best not to look at Brandon. I couldn’t believe he was on board with this madness, even as temporary as it might be. He hated me as much as I hated him. I was a gray sprinkle in his rainbow world, after all.

“I realize this might be difficult for you, Holly.” Bertram’s gaze drifted between Brandon and me. “I’m not sure what happened between the two of you, and I don’t need to know. What I do know is you’ll make a good team. I expect nothing short of excellence from this partnership. And this will be a partnership. Any deals closed by the end of the year will result in a fifty-fifty commission split. ”

My breath caught in my chest. Fifty percent split? Was this real? That could mean some serious money for me, like the kind of money I needed to pay off all the debt accrued from Dad’s rehab stays. I braved a peek at Brandon to see if he was livid about this. Account executives usually shared very little of their commissions with their BDRs.

Brandon was ready for my gaze, seemingly unfazed by this bombshell. In fact, he offered me a small smile. That’s when I knew this—the note, the smile, the commission—was probably some sort of setup so he could torment me. I so had his number. But one thing Brandon didn’t know was everything I had been through. What he had done to me had nothing on what life had thrown my way, so I would put up with him for the next month or so and take every cent I could get of his commissions.

And maybe—just maybe—with a little luck, we would close enough deals that I could quit and never have to see my annoying coworker, my brother’s best friend, and the first boy who kissed me ever again.

Now if I could just stop running into my gynecologist at the grocery store.