Page 71 of Coffee Shop Girl
Away from the shop, she seemed to bloom in the moonlight. She, Bethany, with whom I had two professional arrangements—she was both my client and the owner of my working space. She had three big attachments herself. Talk about a world rife with disappointment.
I set those thoughts aside.
She’d said it herself—no expectations. We could allow this to be what it was.
No matter the pain later, time with a woman like Bethany could never be a mistake. Even if it set a bar I wasn’t sure any other human could meet, it didn’t matter. Long-term relationships weren’t a world I’d ever navigate, anyway. She could set whatever bar she set.
Her and her lipstick.
“So,” she said, brow drawn high, “what’s this elusive business you occasionally have phone calls about? I know there’s something besides the business you’re testing with the Frolicking Moose. You’re always mentioning Mallory.”
I leaned back, laughing. A nugget of something glittering had come into her eyes. Was it jealousy? I hoped so.
“I worked for my sister-in-law, Mallory, who is the CEO of a tech company out of California. They just turned the corner into a billion-dollar business right before I came out here to Grandpa’s cabin, thanks to a new sales force initiative I put into place.”
Her eyes widened. “Geez.”
“She’s done well. And she’s only thirty-six. She married my brother a while ago. They started the company together.”
“You went from military to sales?”
He nodded. “A lot of headhunters pull military leadership into business jobs once we get out, particularly if you’ve lost a limb. It wasn’t a hard process to work my way to where I ended up. I introduced Mallory to my brother Baxter when I met her on my first job after the amputation.”
“Your personality certainly helps.”
I quirked a brow with a sly smile. “Is that a compliment or tongue-in-cheek humor?”
She grinned. “Figure it out yourself. Do you like working with Mallory?”
“It was a job.”
“So ... no?”
Carefully, I leaned forward again. My job was complicated. There was a lot I loved about it. The security. The money in my account. Time with my sister-in-law and brother. The sense of supporting someone else as they achieved their dreams. But the daily grind, the office space, the sheer number of people always moving around me. I hated that. Measuring success was hard when a company was always scaling bigger.
Big numbers became just that—numbers. Success needed different indicators that were lost in a corporate climate. Life satisfaction. The number of employees assisted through marital issues. Other things.
But I didn’t know if I hated it enough to leave it yet. Enter Pineville and the Frolicking Moose.
“A corporate world doesn’t fill my happiness bucket, let’s just say.”
She tapped her crust on the box. “Why not?”
“It’s a difficult funnel that forces your life to revolve around other people and their schedules. That’s fine. I love to see other people succeed because of what I put into place, but there’s no ... open space.”
“To move.” Something flickered in her eyes, but quickly disappeared.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “No freedom. Before I left, Mallory extended an offer to me. She wants to promote me to the Chief Revenue Officer over the company.”
“Wow. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you ... are you going to take it?”
“That depends very much on how things pan out with the Frolicking Moose.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
