Page 6 of Small Town Frenzy
“But there could be.” Savvy types on her laptop, her eyes locked on the screen. “When I look into those incredible eyes of his, ass is nowhere to be found.” Her eyebrow quirks before she aims her gaze at me again. “Six-three.Rawr.Brown hair. Full. Thick with a perfect wave to entice fingers to run through it. Gorgeous blue eyes.”
“Are we talking about twenty-two or some other rand?—”
“Griffin Greene is smoking hot, if you ask me, which slightly offends me because you didn’t.” She cracks a smile.
I shake my head. The last thing I want to talk about isthatguy. I can’t help myself, though. It’s like a carrot of tidbits being dangled in front of me. “The website actually says perfect wave to entice fingers and gorgeous blue eyes?” What site is she looking at exactly? I’m tempted to pull it up and do my own research.
“No. I added to it for flair, but I’m not wrong. Come see for yourself.”
“No, thank you,” I reply, trying to pretend I’m not utterly engrossed in this description as much as she is. I kind of hate myself for showing interest.
She double blinks as if she’s returned to her original mission. “College degree in anthropology.”Guess she is.“Single.”She practically purrs the word.
Pretending to ignore this casual sales pitch, I tap papers on the top of my desk. “Did he recently hire you for his personal PR? Because you’re doing a stellar job of selling him.” Locking my gaze on hers, I add, “But I’m not buying. Men are nothing but trouble for me. Always have been. Always will be.”
“No one said you had to marry the guy. And . . .” Raising her finger in the air like I imagine Einstein doing when he made a great discovery, she says, “Blake said he only flew in for the fundraiser. You can’t have fundraising without a little fun. It’s literally in the word itself.”
I burst out laughing. It was a struggle to hold it in, but she wins. “You’re an incurable romantic.” I soften my smile to one less revealing. “But I’m not.” I glance down at the papers still in my hands. The sweet blue-and-red squiggly drawings I got for my birthday maintain my smile, but the love for my guy still feels too big to carry inside, even after all this time. It only grows larger.
I tuck them in a file, then into the top drawer of my desk. “Are we getting any work done today?”
“Of course. I’ve already sent several invoices to wedding clients, and I talked to your mom for a bit.”
“Oh yeah?” I haven’t seen her in more than a month. “How’s France?”
“Wonderful, and then she said c’est la vie.” She laughs, but then loses all the humor. “And your brother got two accounts.”
“It only took five months of traveling through France’s wine country.” I wanted that job so badly I could taste it. I have a few more things to work out since it wouldn’t only be me, but I wasn’t even under consideration. I’m bitter, but that’s not my brother’s fault. “That’s good. Just one will open many other doors. Any word on their return?”
“Nope. She just left a message to check in with you.”
“At least she hasn’t forgotten me entirely,” I tease, but I’m not sure how much of that is a joke.
Spinning in her chair, Savvy watches through the large glass panes behind her. Crowds of people cut across the grass with baskets hanging on their arms as they headtoward the vines. “It’s going to be a busy day if guests are showing up so early at the winery.”
“It’s smart to beat the heat when walking the vineyards with tour groups. By the time they return, it will be lunch and time to drink the day away under the oaks on the front forty.” I try not to complain about the visitors to the winery since they’ve made the business what it is today, but I hate these large lookie-loo windows. “I’m glad we’ll be moving into the new offices upstairs soon.”
“I stopped in yesterday for a peek. I’d be surprised if it takes another week to finish.”
“The pretty touches take time, my dear.” Lowering my glasses from the top of my head to the bridge of my nose, I grin as I log onto my computer. “I’d rather have it done before furniture is moved in. I’ll stop in later if I get a chance. Your Griffin Greene?—”
“Mine? Now he’s mine? Not sure Blake’s going to like that.” She giggles.
“He may not be yours, but you seem to really want to support this guy.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, Jerk-face hasn’t signed the contract for the game. So?—”
“Why, pray tell, is he a jerk-face?”
“I don’t have the energy to go over that exhaustive list. Just trust me. Also, guess who needs to get the paperwork wrapped up?”
Her eyes widen. “You?”
“You guessed it. Can’t wait,” I reply sarcastically and throw in some jazz hands for good measure.
“Doesn’t sound like a chore to me.” She grins. “He graduated with a degree in anthropology. I find that so impressive and kind of dreamy. My heart be still.”
“Why are we stilling hearts?”Anthropology, huh?The hard chest, the harder glare. The way he treated me like afan of his . . . it’s hard to imagine him studying anything other than how to be an asshole when he grew up.
“Because he cares about humanity.”
