Until Ashlyn
Page 2

“Gregory said you wanted to speak with me?”
“I do. Have a seat.” He nods toward one of the chairs. I really want to say something about him being bossy, but instead, I move to the chair and sit with my hands folded in my lap.
“I understand you’ve been working here for a while.”
“I have,” I confirm with a nod as he crosses his arms over his massive chest.
“With me taking over, things around here are going to change.”
“Good,” I state, really meaning it. This office needs change if it’s going to last much longer. There are dental offices popping up all the time, taking business away from us.
“If you want to keep your current position, I’m going to need to re-interview you.”
“That’s fine.”
His eyes scan the length of me slowly, making my skin feel suddenly too hot and too tight. “I don’t need pretty objects around to look at. I need someone who knows what they’re doing working with me, and I need to make sure you understand that.” Blinking, I stare at him wondering if I heard him correctly. “I’ll be in town this week. Hopefully that will be enough time for you to get a resume together.”
“Absolutely,” I grit out, faking a smile that says I really want to take his head off and use my four-inch heels as soccer cleats.
“Great, I’ll call the office and schedule a time for us to meet.”
“Great,” I agree, standing. “Is there anything else?”
“Not at this time,” he mumbles, watching me closely.
“It was nice meeting you,” I lie, while plotting his untimely death in my head.
“You too.” He lifts his chin, and I turn and walk out the door, wondering why the hell I thought he was attractive when he’s obviously a major dick.
Chapter 1
Ashlyn
“Hey, Mom,” I greet, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shove another dress and matching heels into my suitcase. I smile while I do, because Dillon will likely flip his lid when he sees my choices in attire for the weekend, but there is not one damn thing he can do about it since we won’t be in the office. So technically, his stupid rules don’t apply.
“Are you all packed?”
“Almost,” I sigh, looking at the clock and realizing I only have ten minutes to finish before my cab is set to arrive. I wasn’t planning on going to Vegas for the dental convention, but Dillon insisted he needed me with him, and like an idiot, I agreed.
“Is Dillon picking you up?”
“No, I’m meeting him there. His flight left a couple hours ago.”
“Oh.” She lets out a defeated breath. “Is it just you and him going?”
“I hope so. I swear if the Wicked Witch shows up, I’ll sell her on the strip to the highest bidder, or pay someone to take her out to the desert and drop her off,” I grumble, digging under my bed for my tickler—just in case of an emergency.
“Call me if you need an alibi.” She laughs, and I smile, shaking my head, because I know she’s not lying; she would find a way to be my alibi if something happened.
“I’ll call,” I mutter, heading to the bathroom so I can gather my shower supplies.
“Dillon’s so nice,” she says quietly, and I grit my teeth.
Dillon is annoying, bossy, and… fine, he can be nice sometimes. Plus, he’s uber-hot, but I hate him. Okay, I don’t hate him… but I really, really want to.
“How long are you going to be gone for?” she questions, breaking into my internal rant.
“Just four days. My flight gets back Monday night around seven.”
“Promise you’ll call everyday and check in.”
“I’ll call or text,” I agree, grabbing my cosmetics case from under the bathroom cupboard, filling it with all of my makeup.
“Please try and have some fun while you’re there. Make Dillon take you out to a nice dinner or dancing.”
Snorting, I mutter, “Sure, Mom. I love you. I’ll message when I land.”
“Okay, honey, and don’t forget your dad and I leave Monday for Florida and we’ll be gone for three weeks.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Have fun, kiss Grandma and Grandpa, and tell Dad I love him.”
“Will do,” she promises softly before I hang up and shove my cell into my back pocket. Looking at the clock I let out a quiet curse, getting my ass in gear to finish packing so I don’t miss my flight.
*
Dragging my bag behind me toward the reception desk, I’m stunned by how many people are here wearing nametags stating they’re attending the dental convention. Dillon mentioned this weekend is one of the largest gatherings of dentists in the United States, but sheesh, this is crazy. Finally making it to the front of the line, I smile at the cutie behind the desk.
“How can I help you, gorgeous?” he inquires once I’m close, and I set my purse on the counter and pull out my ID, handing it over to him.
“Hi, I have a reservation.” I yawn, covering my mouth while I listen to the sound of slot machines going off in the distance. I love the slots—or penny slots to be exact, since I’m too chicken to play the real ones.
“I’m sorry, but there is no reservation under your name. Are you sure you’re staying with us?” he asks, handing me back my ID, and I frown.
“I’m positive. It may be under my boss’ name, Dillon Keck. He made the reservations,” I say, and he starts to type again then smiles.