Page 4 of Work with Me

Next to Jackson, a young programmer slumped into his seat like he was trying to melt into the polyester mesh. I wanted to do the same. These two were supposed to be best friends, and now they were arguing. Because of me. Actually, because Cooper Fallon hadn’t told his business partner he was hiring a consultant. Me. And who the hell was in charge here? I eyed the seat at the head of the table, the one I’d planned to occupy. The one where Jackson Jones now presided.

Something that wasn’t my fault had suddenly become my problem. Nothing for it but to woman up and solve it. I stiffened my spine.Showtime.

“Mr. Fallon, would you like to brief Mr. Jones while I get to know the team?” I said, with what I hoped was the smile Jay—Jackson—had admired and not a teeth-baring snarl.

“Great idea, Ms. Weber.” Fallon tilted his head toward the hallway. Jackson circled the table and followed his cofounder out the door.

A second before the door swung shut, Jackson’s low tone floated through. “This is bullshit, Coop—”

I spoke loud enough to drown him out. “While Mr. Jones and Mr. Fallon talk strategy, we’ll get to know each other. I’m Alicia Weber of Weber Technology Consulting, and I’m here to help get this development project back on track so we can deliver on schedule. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.

“Would you like to start the introductions?” Waving at the young guy who’d been sitting next to Jackson, I circled around to the head of the table. I moved a Synergy mug of coffee out of the way and sat in the power seat, surreptitiously lowering it so my feet touched the floor.

As the guys took turns introducing themselves, the arguing on the other side of the door eventually quieted, and before we’d finished, Jackson and Fallon slipped back inside. Fallon took the empty chair across the table, his expression serene as he listened to the team provide status updates on their assignments. Jackson leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the color still bright on his high cheekbones. He said not another word, but heat seemed to radiate from him, and the programmers closest to him squirmed in their seats. But to me, at least, there was no mistaking the hurt in his eyes. What the hell was going on between those two? They needed a couples therapist more than a consultant.

“Now that everyone has met,” Cooper said as he stood, “I’d like to review the project constraints. With Alicia joining the team, I’m confident you’ll be able to complete development by November 15 as originally planned.”

Two months. I had two months to turn the project around and deliver shippable code. I could do it. I knew I could. Unless…

“Alicia?” Cooper asked.

What had he asked me? Something about the date, I thought. “Absolutely, Mr. Fallon. We’ll get it done.”

Jackson snorted.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He wouldn’t sabotage me, would he? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried. I’d seen it all before: deliberate slowdowns, bugs introduced “accidentally,” even calling in sick at a critical point on a project. All because a woman threatened their fragile egos. They’d closed ranks and manspread around the table until there was no room for me.

I couldn’t let that happen here. If we succeeded, Cooper Fallon’s recommendation would open doors for me in Austin, in Silicon Valley, wherever I wanted to work. I’d write my own ticket. If I failed, though, that’d be the end of Weber Technology Consulting. I’d head back into someone else’s cubicle to churn out code, something I’d been trying to escape for the past five years.

So when Cooper Fallon shook my hand and said, “See you at eight tomorrow morning?” I said, “Absolutely. Can’t wait to get started.”

It’s always good to start a new job lying your face off, right?

As if he could see the guilty thought race across my forehead like a marquee, Cooper narrowed his eyes at me. “Until tomorrow, then.” He turned to talk to Jackson, who stared at me with an unreadable expression. Gone was the tenderness he’d shown when he’d pressed that ridiculous bandage to my forehead.

I stared right back. It didn’t matter how nice he’d been. Or how famous a programmer he was. No way was I going to let Jackson Jones ruin this make-or-break opportunity for me.

2

ALICIA

The secondI pulled up at the U11 soccer field, I knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t a tingling mom-sense like my best friend, Tiannah, had. I figured that was something that washed into the bloodstream in the delivery room, like oxytocin. I was proof you couldn’t get it simply by holding your sister’s hand as she gave birth.

No, I could tell because the kids weren’t running around. They were sitting in the grass while Tiannah cradled Noah in her lap, wiping his tears and kissing his forehead. Behind her, her husband, the coach, paced, his phone to his ear. I ignored my buzzing phone to leap out of the car and wobble across the gravel parking area in my heels. I swore I’d burn them. They’d slowed me down twice today.

“Noah!” I dropped to my knees next to him in the grass. “What happened?”

Tiannah reached out and took my hand, her motherly reassurance flowing into me. “He tripped. Went down hard. He says his arm hurts.”

The skin had already reddened along his forearm. I might not have a mom-sense, but Noah had broken enough bones that I knew my next step.

“Hey, buddy,” I said in a soft voice. “Think you can stand up?”

He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Yeah.”

“We’ll go see Dr. Ruiz. She’ll fix you up.” I supported him under the uninjured arm, and Tiannah gripped him from behind as he stood on wobbly legs.

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