Page 28 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
Except the man whoismy kind of handsome is staring at us like he wants to rip someone to shreds.
"Would you two care to join us?" I ask.
"Oh, we don't want to interrupt," Howard says.
"No, please." Grayson speaks up. “I’d love to hear how we'reallbrought together like this.”
His choice of words throws me, and as we settle in, I really try to figure out what has changed in the past five minutes, other than our guests. His shoulders are tense. His expression is flat. A little angry? Or am I making that up? The vibe has definitely shifted so I don’t know if he’s actually mad or if I’m imagining it.
What would he be mad at? Or who? Howard interrupting? Declan’s existence? Me? No. That can’t be it. I mean, I’ve made plenty of people mad over the years. But in this case, I don’t think I did anything wrong. When I piss people off, I generally like to know what I did. You know, in case I want to do it again.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Howard says, taking a seat between Grayson and I. ”I didn't realize the two people Declan and I are talking to about possible media plans knew each other.”
I snap my head to Grayson then back to Howard. “Two people?”
I don't mean to say it out loud, but it slips. That’s his Monday meeting? His Monday meeting is the same as my Monday meeting?
Oh now it all makes sense. That’s why his demeanor changed the instant I told him what I did for a living. Why he’s glaring at me with narrowed eyes. Though I feel like that reaction is alittle overdramatic. I’m just his competition; nothing to get your boxers in a twist about.
Except that I’ve never had competition who’s bent me over and fucked me in a shower.
As my brain plays catch up, every swirling thought crashes together as I fully put together the entirety of this situation:
Grayson is my competition.
He works in my industry.
Which means our relationship, or whatever this was going to be, is over before it even begins.
I swallow the lump in my throat and push back a pesky tear at the realization.
Years ago, I made a vow to myself that never again would I date inside the PR world. Not coworkers. Not competition. Not anyone. It only leads to heartbreak, deceit, and a fear of trust that will take you years to recover from.
I glance over to Grayson, who’s listening intently to whatever Howard is saying. I knew things were too good to be true. I knew there was something that was going to come out of left field and wallop me upside the head.
I just never thought it would be this.
But I can’t be sad about that. Not now. I have to get into Katherine mode. Especially since my adversary is looking at me like someone he’s trying to take down instead of someone he’s trying to go down on.
“May I ask, why did you bring two of us in?” Grayson asks. “I was under the impression from my boss at Sterling Strategies that you had just reached out tous.”
Sterling Strategies? They're a big deal in the Nashville PR scene. I know that most of the pitches I’ve gone on, they’ve also been trying to obtain the client. They do good work, from the campaigns I’ve seen. Maybe a little too standard and boring formy taste, but to each their own. They have a good rep and get the job done.
“I’m sorry if we gave that impression to you both,” Howard begins. “And nothing against you, Miss Smith, but I’ve done business with Sterling Strategies for years. Well, as much as a family-owned inn in the Smoky Mountains can need media help. Mostly just new ways to draw in tourists, you know, that sort of thing. But every time we’ve called on Sterling, they’ve always given us great results.”
“On behalf of the company, we appreciate that,” Grayson says, suddenly more chummy with Howard than he was five minutes ago. “Melinda has said wonderful things about you. I’m honored she entrusted me to help you with whatever your needs are.”
I didn’t get the ass kisser vibes from Grayson, but here we are. Just like every other corporate bro when they see a commission…
“Thank you,” Howard says. “I knew the hotel needed an upgrade, but what we did with the renovation was all Declan’s idea. His vision for the property is more than I, or his grandfather, could’ve ever imagined.”
“It’s just moving ahead with the times,” Declan says as he turns to me. “My goal has been to make sure that the Timberline keeps the charm and nostalgia that people have loved about it for three generations. The bricks, the wood floors and framing, the high ceilings...the rustic experience. That’s our bread and butter, and I didn’t want to lose that.”
“I promise you didn’t,” I say. “This whole place is absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you,” he says with a flirtatious smile. Note to self: Keep Declan an arms-length away. At least until I can truly get a read on him. “But while we want to keep the same charm, it’s going to be imperative that we attract new clientele. The youngergeneration that would rather stay in Air BnBs or a cabin in the mountains. I want to offer them high-end dining, but with an affordable price tag. Excursions. Experiences. And with those new ideas, I wanted to also bring in a new perspective. Someone who hadn’t done business with us in the past and maybe could offer a fresh approach.”
If I listen closely enough, I swear I can hear Grayson mumbling something under his breath.
