The Fine Print

2

Rowan

My new assistant, Martha, is a Dreamland veteran who has worked for all the Directors of the theme park, including my grandfather. She’s handled my transition with ease. The way she knows everything about everyone has been a bonus, making me breathe easier considering my move to Florida.  

Because of Martha’s key intel, I know how to find most of the Dreamland employees all in one place to formally introduce myself. I’m able to secure my choice of a seat because I made sure to be the first one to arrive for the morning meeting. I pick the perfect spot in the back of the auditorium where the fluorescent lights don’t reach, cloaking me in much-desired darkness. Sitting away from curious eyes will allow me to observe how the crew interacts and how the managers resolve problems. 

Ten minutes before the meeting, everyone files inside the space and fills the countless rows of seats. Whatever energy I give off has the employees avoiding the back row for the more preferred seats in the front and middle. There’s only one person who braves the seat in front of me. The older gentleman stares at me like I’m inconveniencing him by sitting in his territory, but I ignore him. 

Spotlights at the front of the room focus on Joyce, the daytime crew manager and Dreamland house mom. She has a helmet of white hair and blue eyes that scan the entire room like a drill sergeant. I’m not sure how she knows my location, but her eyes land on mine and she nods with pressed lips. 

Joyce taps her clipboard. “All right, everyone. Let’s get started. We have a lot to cover and little time before the first guests arrive.” She sets the meeting agenda and moves through countless questions with confidence. She barely breathes as she discusses the July schedule of parades, festivals, and celebrities visiting the land. 

The door behind me creaks open. I turn in my chair and look over my shoulder. A younger brunette woman slides through the small crack before shutting it softly behind her. 

I look down at my watch. Who is she and why is she twenty minutes late? 

She clutches onto a neon pink Pe

I hate it yet I can’t look away. My eyes trace the curves of her body, drawing a path from her delicate throat to her thick thighs. The speed of my heart picks up. 

I clench my hands into two fists, disliking the lack of control I have over my body. 

Get a hold of yourself. 

I take a few deep breaths to slow my heart rate. 

A lock of dark hair falls in front of her eyes. She tucks it behind an ear decked out in gold piercings. As if she senses my gaze, her eyes land on me—or more so the empty seat next to me. 

The woman walks out of the lit entrance and toward the aisle shrouded in darkness. She checks out the seating arrangement as if she wants to figure out how to slide into the chair beside me with as little contact as possible. 

“Hi. Excuse me.” Her voice is soft with a hint of an accent. She takes a deep breath as she moves inch by inch into my personal space.

I don’t say a damn thing as I clutch onto the armrests. I’m given an up-close and personal view of her backside, barely constrained by her unregulated attire of jeans and a T-shirt. 

There’s a reason uniforms are mandatory while on company property and I’m staring straight at it. The back of my neck heats, and the armrests creak under the pressure of my hands. Her perfume hits my nose. My eyes drift shut at the intoxicating smell—a mix of flowers, citrus, and something I can’t quite place. 

She fumbles around my long legs with the gracefulness of a newborn giraffe. 

Wanting to end this, I give her some space by sitting up. My sudden movement has her tripping over my feet. One of her hands smacks against my lap for balance, missing my cock by only a few inches. Electricity shoots up my leg right to my crotch. 

Shit. Since when has someone’s touch given me that kind of a reaction? 

Her wide eyes look into mine, showing off thick lashes and brown, almond-shaped eyes. She blinks a couple times, proving she possesses some form of cognitive functioning. “I’m so sorry.” Her lips gape apart as she stares down at her hand on my lap. She gasps and rips her hand away from my thigh, taking her warmth and the weird feeling with her. 

Some older crew member looks over his shoulder. “Do you mind taking a seat already? I can barely hear Joyce over your usual racket.” 

Usual racket? Good to know that this is a pattern.

“Right. Yes,” she sputters. 

I consider her ability to slide into the chair beside me without another accident as a miracle. She drops her loud jangling backpack on the floor, causing yet another distraction. Metal rattles and pings as she bends over and unzips the bag. 

I shut my eyes and breathe through my nose to calm the dull ache pulsing at my temples. Except I take in more of her perfume with each deep breath, making it impossible to forget her.  

Her arm brushes up against my leg during her search. A similar spark shoots down my spine at the contact, like a rush of heat begging to go somewhere. 

Anywhere but there for fuck’s sake. 

“Do you mind?” I grind out. 

“Sorry!” She winces as she finally grabs her notebook and snaps back into a sitting position. Her Pe

There’s a reason those damn things were ba

“Come on, Zahra.” The man turns his head and shoots her a withering look. 

Zahra. Her name fits the wildness I’ve only had a tiny taste of. 

“Sorry, Ralph,” she mutters. 

“Stop being sorry and start being early for once.” 

I fight the urge to smile. There’s nothing I enjoy more than people being called out on their bullshit. 

She leans over and places a delicate hand on the man’s shoulder. “Can I make it up to you with fresh bread that Claire and I made last night?” 

Bread? Is she seriously offering this man food after he got a

Ralph shrugs. “Throw in some cookies and I won’t complain to Joyce about you being late again.” 

I blink at the graying grump in front of me. 

“I knew you had a soft spot for me. People say you’re mean but I don’t believe a word of it.” She shoves his shoulder in a familiar way. 

I see what she’s doing here. Somehow, she wrapped old Ralph around her finger with nothing but a smile and a promise of baked goods. 

This woman is dangerous—like a landmine someone doesn’t see until it’s too late. Zahra grabs a package from her backpack and drops it into Ralph’s waiting hands.

Ralph cracks a smile, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Don’t let anyone in on our secret. I couldn’t handle the fall out.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dare.” She lets out a soft laugh that reverberates through my chest like someone smashed a damn gong with a sledgehammer in there. Warmth spreads through my body, scaring the shit out of me. 

Her white teeth stand out in the dark as she shoots Ralph a beaming smile. There’s something about the look on her face that has my heart racing faster in my chest. Beautiful. Carefree. I