Page 41 of If You Could Only Believe
I fell head over heels in love with her right then. And I didn’t have to hear what Mason’s response was to know that he agreed to whatever she was asking of him. Mason Buchanan would dump millions of dollars into a sinking ship if his wife asked him to. Kind of like all the Buchanan men would do for their wives.
And how Michael would do for me.
I knew that now.
So, because Shane was a talking, walking, breathing, living angel on Earth, no one was minding running a late Friday work day to rally for her. The conference table was littered with papers and pictures and plans and all kinds of stuff I wasn’t familiar with, but I was excited to learn.
“I hate it when crap like this happens,” Tina, one of Shane’s marketing members, mumbled. “I mean, it just sucks when a big company takes advantage of the working class.”
Shane placed her hands on her hips. “I agree, Tina. That’s why we really need to pull through for Grand Ideas.”
Grand Ideas was a small party planning company that was run by Tammy Whittle and her two daughters. They wanted a more online presence-understandably-but the firm they hired, cheated them something fierce. They had only created one website and it could have been put together by a five-year-old.
I was about to comment when we were all brought up short by the music that began playing over the intercom system.
“Is that…is thatBarry White?” Victor asked. He was another marketing member.
“Holy shit,” Justice Buchanan exclaimed. “ThatisBarry White.”
“Who’s Barry White?” Bethany asked. She was Shane’s artistic visionary. She was also very…young. She was interning and a freshman in college.
Denise Buchanan gasped. “What do you meanwho’sBarry White?” Bethany shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, honey, I just can’t,” Denise muttered sadly.
“Never mind who Barry White is,” Beatrice chimed in. “Why is ‘Can’t Get Enough of Your Love’ playing over the speakers?”
That was a legitimately good question. WhywasBarry White being blasted over the intercom system?
“Oh, my Sweet Jesus,” Shane breathed out.
Every head in the room turned to see what she was looking at, and when I caught notice of what she was expressing shock over, my knees almost gave out on me.
The conference room was made up of clear glass walls and everyone in the room could see-as clear as day-Michael Buchanan striding down the hallway towards the conference room, with his brothers tailing behind him.
And, if his purposeful strides didn’t suggest he was the reason behind Barry White singing about how he can’t get enough of some girl’s love, the smirks and Cheshire grins on Aiden’s, Mason’s and Gabriel’s faces were sure indicators that Michael has lost his fucking mind.
“What are they doing?” Justice asked, a little fear in her voice. No doubt she was hoping they were here for anyone but her.
“Oh, Holy Mary up in Heaven,” Denise mumbled.
“That’s a hell of a sight,” Tina breathed, and I couldn’t even be mad at her. Because it was.
Michael swung the doors open-in a most dramatic fashion, might I add-and didn’t stop his strides until he was standing in front of me. And he must have practiced or something because the timing of his arrival and halt in front of me was absolutely in perfect tune with Barry’s crooning over the speaker.
The second verse started, and as God-and everyone in the conference room-as my witness, Michael Buchanan started singing along with the music, belting out how my love is all he needs.
“Oh, my stars and galaxy…” I muttered, shocked to shit.
And what didn’t help?
The second the song hit the second chorus, Justice started hootin’ and hollerin’ and that set off a chain of claps, and whistles, and all-around nonsense. The girls were laughing and being…girly and the guys were cheering Michael on like he was in a college keg drinking contest.
He was the goddamn head ofHR.He shouldn’t be…be…he justshouldn’t!
When he was done, the song faded away and the infectious mood around us was about to bust the doors wide open.
Who in the hell does this kind of stuff?
Michael was staring down at me and his face was so happy, he rivaled fairy tale endings. “Hey, baby,” he greeted as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.
