Page 48 of Mistlefoe
“My nose.” He taps it, as if I didn’t know what one looks like. “I can smell the ice in the air.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. Could you also smell an abandoned bag of money laying around?”
Conor laughs. “I wish. That would solve both of our problems.”
Instead, we have to face Camila. We make our way through the factory floor using the walking paths, checking this way or that for forklifts or hanging loads like we were instructed in the safety class that everySPORTYemployee has to take yearly, per Camila’s command.
Her assistant is in a phone call when we arrive to the office area and she waves us right in, like her boss is doing nothing but expecting us. I check my watch because if we’re actually a second late, I’ll run off on my own and leave Conor to deal with the consequences. But we’re a few minutes early so, after exchanging a glance of mutual reassurance with him, I knock on Camila’s door.
“Come in.”
I take a bracing breath at the sharpness of her tone but promptly open the door. “Hi, Camila. May we come in?”
“I just bid you to do so.”
Shit, she did. This is already going wrong.
Clearing my throat, I walk in and am glad to confirm that Conor does the same. “I’m Sierra Fernandez and this is Conor Mahoney, we?—”
“I know who you are,” the woman responds without looking up from her iPad. “You work with Rachel in Richard’s team. Your email said you’re organizing the company’s Christmas party and want to talk about that. Get to the point.”
Conor peels his eyes open and his shoulders rise as he tries to shrink. That reminds me that I can’t do that if I want to get this manager’s attention.
“About that. As you know, we received the assignment with a short lead time, which leaves us unable to follow the normal channels to purchase some goods from the factory. We would be extremely thankful if you approve the purchase of a crate of baseballs via company credit card rather than by purchase order.”
She has surprisingly pretty eyes. They’re a light brown that almost looks yellow, striking when paired with her dirty blonde hair. They’re also striking fear through my heart as she asks, “And why would I do that?”
I’m so stumped that Conor decides to take over. “You’re the only person who can approve this and save Christmas.”
Short, sweet, maybe a bit too Hallmark for an audience so heartless.
Camila folds her arms delicately and leans back on her plush chair. “Now try that again with a business reason.”
“Company morale,” Conor spits out right away. “This is the top event every year and we can’t put out something that feels incomplete.”
“Sounds like your problem and not mine. Try again.”
“We’d be forced to buy baseballs from the competition instead,” I say, a bit embarrassed about how my voice shakes in the end.
“Now we’re talking. We definitely can’t have that.” She picks up her iPad again, her long, perfectly manicured nails making tapping sounds as she types something. A second later, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. “There, approval sent. Now get out of my office.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, and Conor salutes her but she’s already focused on her screen and doesn’t notice.
We’re rushing out through the factory when I say, “Did you seriously just salute her?”
“Ugh.” He cringes. “I couldn’t stop my body from moving. She just gives eau du drill sergeant.”
I bark a laugh but he’s not wrong. “I don’t know. I think I want to be like her when I grow up.”
Conor scrunches up his face at my words and not at the gust of chilly air that’s stabbing mine. “Why?”
“There aren’t many women out there doing the thing and being taken seriously the way she is.”
“I take you seriously,” he says as he holds the door to the main building open for me, and the only reason I’m able to keep moving is to run from the cold. Otherwise, his words would’ve stopped me.
“Well, thanks,” I mumble as I pass him, but my heart beatsso fast I’m sure that not only Conor can hear it, but the security guys all the way across the lobby too.
We do quick work of returning the vests and signing off from the factory visit, and the elevator trek back upstairs starts quiet. From the corner of my eye, Conor seems relaxed and not like he just said the sweetest words a guy has ever uttered in my direction.
