it was Ryder’s turn to groan. “I was dating a woman at work. One of my subordinates. A member of my team, actually. And before you ask, there was no company policy against employees fraternizing.”
“Did you advise HR? Sign any kind of agreement?”
“Yes, we advised HR, and there was no agreement for us to sign. When the relationship ended, I advised HR of that, as well.”
“Then, where does the inappropriate conduct come in?”
“We dated for four months. She wanted more, to move in together, and I didn’t. Rather than string her along, I ended things.”
“That’s it?”
“Not entirely. She didn’t take the breakup well. She’d call me at all hours and corner me in the office. A couple of our discussions got a little heated. About a week later, one of the other team members received a promotion she was also in line for. She believed I blackballed her.”
“And did you?”
“Absolutely not. I was asked for my input on both candidates and gave them both good recommendations. No favoritism. The next day she filed a complaint.”
“You just said you showed no favoritism. What were her grounds?”
“During one of those heated discussions, she got carried away. I tried calming her by putting my hand on her arm. She later claimed that I touched her inappropriately.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“A few. They reported seeing me touch her but not where. They weren’t close enough.”
“Excuse me for stating the obvious, Ryder, but that was stupid. You should have avoided this woman at all costs. Especially after she started calling you. In fact, you should have alerted HR that she was harassing you.”
“Live and learn.”
“Is any of this in your personnel records?”
“No. That was part of the deal we reached. She dropped the suit, and I quit.”
“Well, that’s one good thing.”
“Not really. Advertising is a small world, and it’s filled with big mouths. Even though I did nothing wrong, a lot of companies are reluctant to hire me. She got what she wanted after all.”
“Then you move out of state,” Myra said matter-of-factly.
“I’m considering it.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll email you our representation contract. Once you send it back, we’ll set up a meeting. Wear your best tie. My assistant will film a short interview with standard questions. We should be able to generate some interest with that. We’ll also polish your résumé and rehearse answers to potentially difficult questions. What’s your email address?”
They discussed a few more details before disconnecting. Ryder felt both better—he was being proactive and taking steps—and discouraged. How could he have screwed up this badly? Getting involved with a coworker? Worse, a subordinate. He should have his head examined.
Pulling into the arena, he parked by the office and got out. Still plagued by the conversation with the headhunter and not quite ready to face anyone, he went instead to the barn. Without quite realizing where he was going, he found himself standing in front of Cupcake’s stall.
The pony snickered and came over for a petting. Ryder automatically gave her a scratch between her short, stubby ears. The next minute, he was in the stall, examining her sore hoof.
“I think you’ll live.”
Cupcake investigated him, snorting lustily when she encountered his hair.
“Quit it, will you?” Ryder laughed and dropped her hoof.
He and Cassidy once had a pony a lot like this one when they were young. A sorrel named Flame. With two parents involved in rodeo, they’d learned to ride at a very young age.
Suddenly, Ryder missed being on a horse. He’d remedy that this weekend, he decided.
“Hey! What are you doing to our pony?” The annoyed voice belonged to a pint-size girl who, given her long black hair, could only be Tatum’s daughter. She stood in the open stall door, hands fisted and planted at her sides.
“Checking her foot.”
“I don’t know you.” The girl backed away and gave Ryder a very suspicious once-over.
“I work here. With your mother.”
“Then, why haven’t I seen you before?”
“I’m new.”
“I’m going to tell my mom.”
He expected her to take off running. She didn’t. Instead, she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Mom!”
“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to—”
She screamed again.
The next second, Tatum came charging up the aisle, one boy in tow, the other, younger one bouncing on her hip. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ryder said.
The girl pointed accusingly at him. “This man is trying to hurt Cupcake.”
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