Free Swap Out by Katie Golding Page A

bodyguard for a more precious, out-of-control daughter.
    A long time ago I swore to myself that if I was ever in a position like I am now, I would do it right. And the best way to learn how to do something is to live through the wrong. So I’m not going to run, as much as the thought of Zoe’s scare tactics makes me want to quit and relocate to another part of the country where I can start over. And for all I know, it could already be finished. But until I know that, I’m going to take care of my kid in the only way I can: by taking care of Zoe.
    Hence the mug of decaf peppermint coffee warming my hand that I bought a bag of last night. Plus the coffee pot, and then figured out how to make it. But the woman has an insane coffee obsession, and the peppermint should help with the morning sickness. I hope. Because she’s not here yet, and something tells me that’s the reason. Just like on Friday when she came in late and I stupidly thought she was hungover. Yeah, not likely.
    I unlock the front door of the business, disabling the security alarm and then heading to her office. I have the keys to it too, and I never really thought about it before, but it makes me smile a little because in some small way, she trusts me. I set the mug down on her desk, then reach into the paper bag I’m carrying and take out the spray bottle of lemon scented air freshener. I lightly spritz the drapes covering the large window, then a little around the floor by her chair. It’s not overpowering, but lemon is supposed to help alleviate nausea as well so it’s worth a shot.
    I leave a sleeve of Saltine crackers in her top desk drawer, then put everything else away in her closet before checking over the large calendar on her desk and looking at the itinerary for the day. Stage, then a meeting with a client to do a bid on an interior decorating job, then nothing.
    I chew the inside of my lip. I can’t for the life of me remember what we’re setting up in the house this morning, so I’m gonna have to wait until she gets here to find out what she needs loaded up. Until then, I can find plenty of ways to keep busy.
    I head out of Zoe’s office and check over the front of the store. The majority of her business is conducted over the phones, but occasionally clients come in and drop off checks, sign contracts, some just want to make sure she’s legit. They’ll check out her stuff, just kinda walking around and browsing to get an idea of her style; whether everything is all matchy-matchy or more contemporary, eye popping signature pieces. So if the front looks like shit, business tanks.
    Most of the time, it’s up to Kevin and the three other grunts to keep it in order: to make sure we’re rotating the best stuff up front and keeping it clean. And typically, it’s up to me to make sure they’re doing their job. But the second I turn my back, they don’t do shit. Sure enough, seeing as how I left in a furious fit on Friday, nothing’s been done.
    I spend the next hour swapping out some armchairs and a coffee table, a rug and a few lamps. I clean the dining table Zoe practically kissed when I put it together because according to her, it is the most gorgeous table in the history of tables. One solid piece of some type of wood I can’t even remember, the chairs so classy I held my breath the entire time I was setting them up. Especially since the upholstery is white, and dust and dirt is a major issue in Moab. The front door opens and it sweeps in like a damn plague. And it is red . Like staining-creamy-imported-silk-until-it-looks-like-it-has-the-chicken-pox red .
    God bless Dyson.
    I vacuum everything up front, making sure it looks like the best version of itself and when I’m done, I head into the back warehouse. I sigh and shake my head, because the place is a wreck. I’m a freak about keeping it organized so I can pull out what she needs at a moment’s notice, but it only takes those other fuckers five minutes to turn it into chaos.