Page 3 of Meeting Up with the Consultant

Lonely.

I run my hand across the smooth surface of my computer. I don’t get to hang out with colleagues day after day like the team at Ascent does. Their family vibe is easy to catch with the way they talked to each other.

Laughed with each other.

Even Brad hadn’t been too upset by the MeetSpace mayhem Kensie had created with her little coding stunt. I smirk. At least, not after the baby powder had settled.

Me?

All I have to look forward to back home is a sparsely decorated apartment and a dead cactus.

I travel so much headquarters has given my office to someone else. All my meetings with my boss now happen over MeetSpace, so I don’t even have the office to look forward to after a job. On one hand, it makes things nice after a trying day of flying and I have to check-in. The boss never knows I take most of our meetings in my boxers. But it also makes my isolation that much more, I don’t know, glaring. Like there is a disconnect between me and the rest of the company I work for.

The first time I met with Brad to discuss Ascent, I knew there was something special going on in the small mountain town just outside of Denali. His company thrills me, gets me excited for the first time in more months than I can count. It’s also growing so fast, surely, they need more permanent help.

I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath. I just have to stay focused, knock this assessment out of the park, and then convince Brad I’d be a good fit for the team. The last call for boarding to Fairbanks sounds, so I shove my computer in my backpack, snag my carry-on, and make my way to the gate.

Most of the passengers have already boarded, just like I planned. My company’s secretary forgot to book my flight, so I’m stuck back in the main seating area. I just hope I don’t get put next to a talker. I really need to take the three and a half hours to do some last-minute research on Ascent’s competitors.

I glance at my seat number on my phone app, then up at the overhead carrier. Only a few empty seats remain. One with a kid bouncing around and an already exhausted-looking mom. I clench my teeth and beg for Jesus to have mercy on me. The other empty seat has a tiny, old woman in the aisle seat and the top of a head bending over something in their lap next to the window. While I hate the middle seat, I’ll take it over a rambunctious child any day.

A whoosh of relief blows out when my number matches the old lady. I give her my I’m-in-that-seat smile and lift my carry-on to the overhead compartment. Luggage halfway in the air, I freeze as my gaze skitters across the other seat. No way. I know that face buried in her book. A smile spreads so wide my cheeks hurt. This flight just got a heck of a lot more interesting.

“Kensington Bloomfield?” I shove my carry-on the rest of the way into the compartment, schooling my expression as her head snaps up.

Her grin melts into a mixture of embarrassment and horror as crimson races up her neck and into her cheeks. Her jade eyes turn even greener against the blush. Wow. She’s stunning.

“Excuse me,” I say to the older woman, to give myself some time to gather my thoughts. “I need to squeeze through.”

As the woman gathers her stuff so I can get by, I watch Kensie out of the corner of my eye. She slams her book shut, fumbling as she tries to shove it into her bag. I tip my head and squint. Is she readingHank the Cowdog? Hmm. It’s a splendid choice, but what twenty-something woman reads a book written for middle schoolers?

Granny drops a ball of yarn, and I bend to pick it up, coming up-close and personal with the knitting needles she has in her hand. Pain explodes through my head from where the seemingly innocuous weapons almost impale the side of my skull, and I bite back a curse.

“Oh, dear.” Granny pats me on the shoulder. “Are you okay, dearie?”

“Yeah.” I rub the side of my head and cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Young man, you need to pay attention to what you’re doing.” Shetsksand takes the yarn from my hand. “An inch in the other direction, and you’d have yourself a wounded cheek or worse.” She pats my hand again and bundles her stuff up on her lap. “It’d be a shame to injure that handsome face.”

She winks at Kensie, whose eyes go wide and skin pales. She probably is remembering her and her sister’s little show during the meeting—the one that had had me blushing like a sixth-grade boy for the first time since, well, sixth grade.

I wag my eyebrows at her just to see what she’ll do. Her freckles pop out across her nose and cheeks like stars thrown into the sky. So, Kensington Bloomfield can’t hide her reactions well? Good to know.

“Sir, you need to get seated, please.” The flight attendant smiles and nods his head toward my seat.

“Right. Doing that now.” I look pointedly at Granny.

I can’t get to my seat with her still sitting there. Granny tips her legs sideways, giving me a centimeter more clearance, then squeezes her arms tighter against her bag like that will help. I heave a sigh. Maybe the seat with the kid would’ve been better.

I stretch my arm over her and drop my backpack in my spot. Pressing my body against the seat in front of Granny, I wiggle past. My elbow bumps the dude in the row ahead of me, knocking his hat off.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Did Granny just move her legs? Because the space to squeeze through just got tighter. Kensie snickers, and I dart my gaze to her. She snaps her head from looking at Granny, so I glance at the older woman. Her amused smile says she was up to no good.

“Come on, hon. I don’t have all day,” she grumbles, but her satisfied look doesn’t reflect her tone.

I practically jump the rest of the way into the seat. Thankfully, Kensie snatches up my backpack before I sit on it. Huffing out a relieved sigh, I click my seat belt on. I just hope I don’t need to get out for any reason.

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