She shed the white button up she was wearing, reached out a hand to test the water and slipped inside. The water hit her smooth, brown skin making her moan slightly. It was going to be a long day. Just for that moment, she wanted to enjoy the feel of the water sliding against her skin. She took her time washing her body, thinking about the wedding, relaxing. When the water decided it’d had more than enough and turned chilly, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a thick, green towel.
It was hard to believe just the year before, Chelsea had hated Matthew. He’d come in with his blond hair, blue eyes, gray suit and list of demands. She couldn’t stand him. The surprising part was he couldn’t stand her either. They’d fought every time they were in the same room together, until the night they were working late into the evening on the same case. The tension had hit a bursting point. Before Chelsea knew what was happening, he was bending her over the conference room table and they were taking their frustrations out on each other. The thought brought a little grin to her face. She still couldn’t sit at that conference table without shooting Matthew a little knowing grin and him doing the same.
Water dripped off of her body as she walked into the kitchen. The lingering smell of burnt toast and a burnt pan were the only evidence that Matthew had attempted to cook breakfast for himself. She laughed softly, lifted the pan then let it slide back into the murky water. Matthew was a horrible cook. He was a great boyfriend, now fiance, great attorney, wonderful person, but he was awful in the kitchen.
She left the mess for the maid, Maritza, to deal with. There was no time for her to be cleaning this morning. Chelsea picked up the big, black binder that had become her best friend. Ever since Matthew had proposed six months ago, it had been her constant companion. She flipped through the pages, attached a pink sticky note then shut the book again. Glancing over at the microwave the red numbers flashed at her. 8:30. She sighed.
Stepping into her room she reached into the closet and pulled out her outfit for the day. She and Matthew worked at the same firm. He was mostly interested in attaining property for his father’s company, while she just wanted to make partner. She was so close, she could feel it, but she wasn’t there yet. She slipped into a black pencil skirt, a white blouse that buttoned up the front and black stockings. As she slipped into her heels her phone lit up and buzzed three times before it went dark again.
Chelsea swiped her finger across the screen and saw a text from her boss. Short, sweet to the point. I need you here, now. Of course he did, she was his best attorney. Her fingers ran through wavy black hair before she stood up and grabbed her briefcase. Her heels tapped along the wood floor as she entered the kitchen and slipped the binder into the briefcase.
The weather was just turning warm, she was happy for that. She walked up to her little black jeep and tossed her bag in before she slid in after it. Her routine of the day was about to start. That might have bothered some people, falling into routine, but Chelsea loved it. It was always simple, straight forward; Get up, get coffee and maybe breakfast, go to the office, punch out at 5 or 6, go home.
When she arrived at the office, the familiar sounds made her smile. Jeff was off flirting with one of the women in the office, she could hear his chuckle. The sound of fingers hitting keys on keyboards. Phones being answered in polite voices. It was like music to Chelsea’s ears. She made her way to her office. As her fingers gripped the metal handle a voice came up behind her.
“Good to see you’ve joined us Ms. Ayers. There’s a meeting in the conference room in five,” the voice said.
Chelsea turned around and was face to face with Mr. Whitehill. Her boss was on the better side of fifty, graying hair at his temples and streaks of gray in his hair. He was pudgy from years of good eating and long hours in the office. As she watched he ran a thick hand over his blue suit to smooth it.
“Of course, Mr. Whitehill. What’s the meeting about?” She asked.
“Some lake front property just became available and that fiance of yours wants to snatch it up. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Chelsea nodded, watched her boss walk away before she slipped into her office. Sighing, she sat her briefcase down on her desk It was going to be a long day. Add on top of that the planning of the wedding and it would quickly grow longer. She readjusted the files before she stood up, smoothed her skirt and walked to the conference room.
Seated around the dark table there was Mr. Whitehill, a few faces that she knew, but couldn’t put names to right away and her fiance, Matthew. He stood in front of the wide, black screen on the wall, his gray suit fitting him in all of the right places. His hair was golden blond, short and lay against his forehead slightly. He would declare it was time to get a haircut soon. Shame. Baby blue eyes locked in on hers and the briefest of smiles touched his thin lips. Chelsea felt her heart flip in her chest. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for him?
She quickly regained control of herself before settling into a seat next to Mr. Whitehill. As Matthew clicked through his file she was both intrigued and distracted. The property was beautiful, a large almost mini-mansion. The land itself would be valuable. Still, in the back of her mind all she could think about was the wedding. It was only six months away and she still hadn’t even met his family.
As Matthew wrapped up his presentation, the room quickly cleared out. Matthew gave her a warm smile before he walked over to her. He planted his hands on the table. Seeing him anywhere near the table sent ripples down her spine, but she kept her composure.
“So, I have some news,” he said.
“Oh yeah? And what news has you smiling so hard?”
“My mother’s back in town. Dad will be getting back soon too. I told them about the engagement and they want to meet you. This weekend.”