Catching Sam: Book 2 of 5: The MacDonald Brothers by Emily Matthews (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📗

“Better not be gone long then,” Sam muttered as he headed back to his desk. He’d been thinking about Annie all weekend. A woman who didn’t return his calls was a foreign concept. It was uncharted territory, but he loved a challenge.

He jiggled the mouse to wake his computer and searched for “flower delivery.” He could have Tracey send them, but doing it himself seemed more personal. It took him over twenty minutes to find the perfect arrangement and another twenty to figure out what to put on the card.

In the end, he settled for a simple, trite, it was nice to meet you message. He could ramp up the romance factor after he figured out if she was even interested in him. He assumed she’d still be at her cousin’s house and had them set for delivery that evening.

An hour and a half later, Phil burst through the door, a scowl on his face. “Ugh, what a nightmare. Whoever recommended this woman should be fired for lying.”

Sam checked his Bulgari, which showed a little after eleven. Phil must have dumped the new employee early. He saved what he was working on and stood to stretch his back.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Well, when I first saw her, I was like, damn, she’s hot. You know, in a perfectly respectable, she’s a coworker, just an observation, type of way.” Sam rolled his eyes and made a rolling motion with his hand for Phil to get on with it.

“She seemed all right at first, nice enough, but as soon as we started talking to other people, the ice queen came out—real bitchy and bossy.”

“Does she know her shit? And will she affect the dynamics of the group?” The Denali project was a huge deal for the company. He was working with the team personally and wanted only all-star players.

“We were told she’s the best graphic designer the company has. Of course, we were also told she was easy-going, friendly, and accommodating. She was the go-to person everyone counted on in the San Fran office.”

“Who recommended her?”

“I’d have to look at the file again. I’ll let you know. The weird thing is, she didn’t seem all that comfortable being bitchy. There were a couple of times where I swear, she wanted to smile or laugh but held back. I tried to open a door for her, and she told me she was perfectly capable of getting it herself.” He mimicked a high, prissy voice.

“Was it the really heavy one that leads over to the annex?” Sam asked. Even he thought that door was heavy.

“Yep.” Phil laughed. “And I can’t say it didn’t make me smile when she struggled with it.”

“You’re terrible.” Sam shook his head. “Come on, Mr. Chivalrous, let’s go eat.”

They grabbed their jackets and let Tracey know they’d be back in an hour or so.

***

Geez, who knew being a bitch would be so taxing? Annie was sitting in her new office, surrounded by empty, dark wood bookcases and a ginormous L-shaped desk, half of which could be raised in case she wanted to work while standing. A drafting table sat awkwardly in the corner, clearly not part of the original office layout. Since the invention of CAD, few designers used them, but it was a nice touch and showed that someone had put some thought in to her arrival. The office had probably belonged to someone else, and they were just making it graphic design friendly for her.

The office chair was as elegant as it was comfortable. She sank into it and tipped her head back, exhausted from having to watch everything she did and said all morning. She’d have to get used to everyone calling her Annabelle. Twice she’d failed to respond when Phil addressed her using her formal name.

Annabelle. She didn’t much care for the name, but it sounded more professional and gave her a thin layer of anonymity. Nobody would mistake chubby, mousy, brown-haired Annie for thin, blond, bitchy Annabelle. If her ex ever came looking, his description of her would not match what she’d become.

Annie had jumped at the opportunity to move to Washington State. She’d been looking for a way to leave San Francisco ever since her husband, now ex-husband, Wayne, had gone to prison almost three years ago. She began her self-transformation not long after his sentencing, but up until a few weeks ago, most of it had been internal.

In San Francisco, she had inadvertently become the office slave. Anyone and everyone who had an undesirable task would ask Annie for help because she never said no.

They all thought of her as exceptionally kind and helpful, which she was, but she also had no confidence and no idea how to stand up for herself. Though she’d become more self-assured in the last few years, it was hard to break out of a role she’d been stuck in for so long. And while they appreciated her willingness to always help out, she often felt taken advantage of.

Life at home had been the same. Wayne had no respect for her and knew he could boss her around to get whatever he wanted. He was tolerable most of the time but was also hot-headed and sometimes unpredictable. Those qualities earned him a three-year prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter after he accidentally killed a man in a bar fight.

Between getting out of that office and putting hundreds of miles between her and Wayne, the decision to move north was a no-brainier. Leaving gave her a fresh chance to start over, and she couldn’t wait to reinvent herself and spread her wings.

To save herself from becoming the office lackey again, she’d rebranded herself as Annabelle, the snobby, unapproachable newcomer who, she hoped, no one would want to talk to, let alone ask for help. That way, she could just keep her head down, do her own work, and let everyone else worry about themselves.

She opened her eyes and looked around. The walls were a soothing moss green, and live