I had no words so I hugged her back and hoped really hard that I did not screw this up. Six months. We’d agreed that I’d try this for six months. Surely I could behave like a proper professional woman for a mere six months.

After pacing the room to get the feel of the space, while contemplating my new job, I sat down and adjusted my ergonomic chair. Then I began to zip through the programs preloaded on my desktop computer. There were some I had never utilized before, which was both thrilling and terrifying but definitely more thrilling. At ten ten, I glanced up from the Adobe Illustrator program I was using on my sweet new setup with the massive screen. Ten ten! Shit! I was late.

I popped up from my desk, toeing on the shoes I’d kicked off. I fluffed my hair and straightened my clothes as I hurried to the door. I shot out of my office, not bothering to close it, and hustled down the hallway to the meeting room. As I drew closer, I could hear the low rumble of voices and was afraid the meeting had started without me. Damn it.

I tried to slip unnoticed through the door but my skirt pocket got snagged on the door handle and what would have been a quiet entrance became a scuffle of me versus the door. I won but it was dicey for a moment, and when I glanced up from unhooking my pocket from the door handle, the entire room had gone quiet while everyone watched me. So much for going unnoticed.

“Annabelle, you’re here. Fabulous,” Sophie cried.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I lost track of time.”

“No problem,” she said. “Start times are flexible here since everyone is on one deadline or another.”

“Oh, okay.” That was a relief. The one job I’d had at a company after college had been super stressful with late nights, crazy deadlines, and no forgiveness for missed meetings. Frankly, it was one of the reasons I preferred to freelance. My experience with working for others had been demoralizing at best and borderline abusive at worst.

“Is this the new kid?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned and found myself gazing up at a startlingly handsome man, who looked to be about my age. He had short, light brown hair that was stick straight but side parted to make it more interesting, a wide forehead, sharp cheekbones, caramel-colored eyes, and a square jaw. He wore a pale blue dress shirt and creased gray trousers. He had a congenial air about him that was welcoming, as if he didn’t take life too seriously and was always looking for the laugh.

“Carson West, this is our new creative director, Annabelle Martin,” Sophie introduced us. “Carson is our senior art director.”