Page 31 of Ask Me Something

“Ha. If looks could have killed me that first year, yours would have. But I knew I’d convince you eventually that we’d be great friends.”

Our personalities could not have been any further apart on the spectrum, but that hadn’t turned out to be a bad thing. “You definitely brought me out of my shell.” I thought about how much more reserved I’d been only a few years ago. “How’s Rob?” I inquired, wondering how things were with her husband.

Instantly, her eyes clouded. Juliette and Rob had been high school sweethearts. He was a police officer in a nearby suburb. She’d appeared happily in love until two years ago when he’d injured his back. Since then, he’d been moody and withdrawn according to her. Having a baby wasn’t improving things.

“You know, all I’m going to say is that it’s been tough. I want to work through things for Tristan’s sake, though, so I’m doing everything I can.”

I noted that she said ‘everything she could’ and bit down on wanting to give her my two cents. I’d never been in love, never been married, and I obviously wasn’t a mother. I had no business giving unsolicited advice in those areas. “Please know that I’m here for you, okay?”

She looked relieved and let out a breath. “I was sure you’d have something more to say.”

“Your friendship means a lot to me, and I only want to see you happy. Everyone has their own way of trying to do that in their lives.” Maybe I was evolving and learning when it was appropriate to keep my judgement to myself. I’d come a long way in the last few years and now had some amazing women I could call friends. Considering my glass house, I was in no position to cast stones.

She let out a deep breath. “Thank you and I hope you know you and Brian are my best friends. Now if only my two besties could end up together, it would be a perfect world.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling some guilt that her two best friends were definitely not telling her everything.

* * *

“Doyou want the good or the bad news first?” Brian asked, filling the doorframe of my office. His body looked casual, but his eyes were intense.

My stomach fluttered with his presence. “Bad news.”

He grinned and shut the door. “Eighty percent of people say good news first.” He took a seat and regarded me.

“I’m a glass-half-empty kind of girl. So lay it on me.”

“The bad news is that the new pitch I’m about to tell you about has an account representative known for being a tough sell. She’s demanding and, according to Josh, will be difficult to deal with.”

I blew out a breath. Difficult clients weren’t anything new, but considering I was the point person in dealing with them now, they presented their own unique challenges. “Okay, what’s the good news?”

“The good news is that we have four weeks to prepare for the pitch, and it’s worth six million in phases. The client is Tryon pharmaceuticals. They have a number of drugs on the market but mostly specialize in diabetes.”

“All right. I’m eager to get started.” And, boy was I. The pitch was my sweet spot.

He shook his head. “We’re traveling tomorrow. I’ll give you the file to allow you to start brainstorming, but you aren’t going to bother your staff over the holidays.”

My temper flared. “Could you give me some credit?”

He looked at me like he often did when I was irritated. With patience and as if he had something to say. We both knew this interaction was a test of sorts. What was the professional landscape going to be like now that we were thinking about moving into a sexual arrangement? “Of course I’ll give you credit. However, we don’t start working on it until the day we return. We have plenty of time.”

I took stock of his answer and realized it was exactly what he would have said a week ago. For some reason, this was a tremendous relief to me. “Okay. Deal,” I agreed.

He also looked relieved. Obviously, this was new territory for both of us. “What’s the plan with my sister for this afternoon? You know you don’t have to go shopping with her if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. McKenzie is sweet.”

He laughed. “Yeah, she is, until she gets fired up, and curses like a sailor. But considering she was around teenage boys from a young age, what can you expect?”

I could hear the affection in his voice and smiled at the image.

“Before I forget, here’s my credit card,” he said, digging into his wallet.

My brow arched as he handed it over. “This is on you?”

“Nice clothes, not New York-designer-nice. Reasonable, please.”

I took the card, amused. “You’re very generous with her.”

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