Page 1 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
Chapter One
ANNA
“Why is this shit not adding up?” I rub my fatigued, strained eyes.
“Shit.” I always forget about my eye makeup.
I grab a tissue and rub the black eyeliner from my fingers. Sighing, I lean over my desk, squinting at the numbers for the McArther campaign. I’ve been updating the spreadsheet and tracking performance metrics for the last…I check my smart watch.
“Four hours? Holy shit.” I look up and scan the dark office full of cubicles. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me, it’s pitch black except for Portland’s lights casting soft glows of gold and the colorful LED signs.
Which reminds me. “Food,” I mumble as my stomach riots at my forgetting to feed it since lunch.
I save progress on my desktop and pull out my phone to order from my favorite Korean BBQ spot two blocks from the office. My mouth waters as I place my order for Galbi withBanchan, Soon Dubu, and extra Ssamjang. Oh! And a Terra beer cause I freaking deserve it.
I pay and click out of the delivery app before noticing a text from Mom.
Eomma the Beautiful:
Any lantern festivals for Buddha’s Birthday? I need a picturesque, full-body picture of you, please and thank you.
Oh,I know where this is going. Rolling my eyes—thankfully, she can’t see me doing it—I respond even though it’s after eleven at night in Connecticut.
I promise to appropriately celebrate that weekend. I love you, but no, I will not send a picture for you to use to set me up with another nice Korean boy. Give Appa a kiss from me.
I shake my head.Both my parents grew up here in the United States, but there’s no escaping both of my Halmi’s expectations as both grandparents were born in Korea. Twenty-six and Mom’s still trying to marry me off. Halmi found out my college boyfriend was Colombian and lost her shit. Elegantly lost her shit, of course.
My boss, Marcus, isn’t going to be happy I clocked in the extra hours, but I’m determined to clean up this campaign, which keeps boggling my mind. I’m also done being just a marketing assistant. I went to school for this. I’ve paid mydues. I’m ready for more creative liberties. I’ve been wanting to lead my own team for a while now. Two years here at Factor-X Marketing is long enough to move out from under Marcus’ department.
The spreadsheet numbers are just not adding up with the McArthur budget, along with the digital ad expenses. I can’t even find the ad mock-ups from the art department. Marcus insisted on leaving it to the senior positions to finalize and to go home early.
Honestly, I work better in the quiet. The chaos of the office during work hours overstimulates me. I love the dark hush of the building.
My phone chimes with a delivery alert.
“Yes,” I whisper, grabbing my wallet with my phone and heading downstairs to the lobby.
The elevator descends five floors, still playing soft instrumental music even at this late hour. I hum my own tune, walking through the lobby to the front doors where the delivery guy carries my feast.
I tap my company security card on the reader to unlock the front doors.
“Thank you,” I smile, accepting my food and being sure I hear the beep confirming the doors lock before heading back upstairs to our department’s floor. The agency takes up floors three through eight. Pressing Five, I stare at floor seven where I want to work before the year’s up. It’s mid-May. I have less than seven months to impress Marcus and the team.
The sweet, savory spices have my mouth watering. I exit the elevator and turn left toward my cubicle.
Muffled voices?
I pause mid-step at the receptionist area and look over my shoulder. Senior staff offices are on the right. I thought nobody was here.
Just go to your desk, eat, finish up, and go home, Anna.
My mother always said my curiosity would bite me in the ass one day. Frowning, I quietly walk over, passing multiple offices as the voices become clearer.
Marcus?
“This shit isn’t acceptable, and you know it, Larry,” Marcus says quietly. “You fucked with one of the shell accounts. You know better,” Marcus says, patronizingly.
My heart races as all my senses go on high alert. Waves of nervous energy rush up and down my body as I inch closer to the back corner office. The carpet muffles the cautious steps from my flats.
