Page 10 of Factory Reset

“Sure, that would be good. What time should we meet?”

“How about four? We can work for a couple of hours, then I can grill us up some burgers. That way you won’t have to cook tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds fine.”

I couldn’t deny that I was dying to spend more time with him, and I loved a good burger.

He gave me a smile that made me clench my thighs together like the wanton hussy that I was, then pulled out his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you my address.”

George

I wasn’t lying. Not completely. I was really interested in the process map that Cassie had told me about.

We’d already done something she called a “SWOT Analysis” and it had been enlightening to evaluate our factory’s strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats. The process that Cassie had led us through was very logical and data driven, something I appreciated. The process mapping sounded interesting as well. I knew that the better I understood the work she was doing, the more I could make sure we got a plan that worked well for the guys on the floor.

We needed to save the factory. Getting to spend time with Cassie would just be a bonus.

I spent a good part of the afternoon cleaning up my house and doing yardwork, not because I needed to do it, but because part of me really wanted to impress Cassie. I even gave Bart a bath before taking a shower myself.

I heard Cassie’s rental pull up into my gravel driveway a couple of minutes after four o’clock. She was always very punctual, but I was betting she missed the turn-off to my private road. Everyone did the first time they came out here, no matter how carefully I explained the directions.

When I was looking to buy a house I’d decided to buy a place that came with a nice piece of land. I liked to putter around in the yard, and I appreciated having a creek nearby where I could fish or plop in a raft and float a while on a hot day. The place had been a disaster when I moved in, but gradually I’d remodeled most of the house to my liking.

As soon as I heard her car I rushed to the front of the house, opening the door before she even knocked.

Cassie was wearing the same clothes I’d seen her in earlier – loose tan shorts that stopped mid-thigh, a form-fitting black tank top, and a light short sleeve shirt that she wore unbuttoned. Oh, and flip flops. The woman was wearing flip flops and God help me if she didn’t have the cutest little toes I’d ever seen, the nails painted a soft pink. I had no idea she was hiding those beneath her steel toed boots.

“Hey.”

I drank her in for a long moment before I heard the noise that was somewhere between a bark and a howl. A few seconds later Bart came waddling to the door as fast as his stubby little legs could take him, his tail wagging with excitement. He loved meeting new people. Plopping his ass at Cassie’s feet, he stared up at her with an adoring look in his big, normally sad-looking eyes.

I knew the feeling.

“Oh my gosh, aren’t you just the cutest little guy?”

Cassie squatted down to rub Bart in that spot on his head that was dead center between his long ears. It was his second favorite place to be petted, right after the spot just above his tail. His tail thumped happily as she crooned and petted him.

“Okay, that’s enough love for now,” I told Bart, feeling ridiculously jealous of my damned dog. “Cassie and I got work to do, buddy.”

Bart gave me a mournful look then headed outside to find something to sniff or pee on. I’d installed a doggy door in the back, so he’d head on in when he was ready.

“I thought we could use the dining room for our workspace,” I told Cassie as I led her into the house. “It’s got a giant table.”

“Perfect.”

She looked around as we walked through the house, taking in the hardwood floors that I’d painstakingly refinished and the earth-toned walls. My house was comfortable and simple, without a lot of clutter or decorative crap messing things up. I was proud of the peaceful space I’d created.

“Your house is adorable,” she said, looking like she wasn’t just saying it to be polite. “Is the crown molding original?”

“Yes, it was a bi—biscuit to refinish. Some idiot had painted over it all with black paint.”

She looked shocked. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know, but they also put crappy sticky tiles down over the original linoleum in the kitchen. I had to tear it up all the way down to the subfloor.”

“Wow.”

I led her into the dining room where I’d brough in a large table that seated twelve for those times when I had guests. Which honestly wasn’t very often, but I liked to be prepared just in case.