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He fished a spoon out of a drawer and took the seat opposite me before peeling off the top of his yogurt. I silently passed him a napkin from the small stack on the side of the table before taking a sip of my coffee.
After six days together on this bus, we’d fallen into an easy routine… for a certain definition of “easy.”
It had been three days since I’d felt his breath on my cheek in the corridor of the Newport Grille in Wichita. Three days without any near-miss kisses or glances that lasted several breath-stealing beats too long, without accidentally-on-purpose brushing against him in the hallway or crowding onto his bench to check out his tablet while tiny electrons of arousal bounced between us.
Instead, we’d spent a lot of time talking. We’d discussed social media in general and which of his (casually sexy) posts got the most interaction in particular. I’d told him about the musicians I loved. We’d even traded intramural softball horror stories, which had necessitated Reagan dragging the collar of his shirt down and trailing his fingers over the clavicle he’d broken years ago in illustration. I’d watched him eat a lot of yogurt, which was his favorite breakfast food and apparently so delicious it needed to be licked off the spoon.
It had been easy.
It was also fucking torture.
Fortunately, things with Pennington Industries had been easy, full stop. In the office, flu cases were way down. Our social media accounts were in better shape than they’d ever been and were getting good engagement. And our tour was proceeding smoothly. After Wichita, I’d had meetings in Colorado Springs and Denver, both of which had gone spectacularly well. Today was a rest day, and tomorrow, we’d head to Vail for a meeting with Maya Martinez, the CEO of Zen Activewear, who was hosting a social event at her family’s ski lodge. Since the Martinez family owned the Boise Thunderbolts baseball team, the event would feature lots of pro baseball players (which meant plenty of free media coverage), and I was hoping the informal setting would give me a chance to talk to Maya about the use of Elustre in Zen Activewear’s yoga line for next fall and winter.
This wasn’t how I usually spent my days. If I was being honest, I rarely thought much about the PennCo subsidiary at all, let alone the nitty-gritty of marketing a particular line of fabric. But somehow, with Reagan around, it had become… fun.
“Will there be skiing?” Reagan asked before shoving a heaping spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. I blinked away from the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and tried to distract myself by shooting off a quick check-in text to Brantleigh.
“Not sure. Why?” I said without glancing up.
Brant still hadn’t replied to any of my texts, and I’d gone from concerned to annoyed and back again. Fortunately, Thalia had gotten a quick text from him—a question about why his Centurion card was no longer working—so I knew he was alive and well enough to be out shopping.
“Because it might be fun to ski with the Thunderbolts. You know, hot guys, formfitting ski onesies, all that bending…” he teased.
I did glance up then and arched one eyebrow, which earned me a smile so sunny and innocent I nearly laughed.
“Kidding, kidding,” he said. “But it really would be nice to ski. Don’t you feel cooped up from all this time on the bus?”
He sounded wistful, even as he pushed his tablet over the table, turning it so I could skim today’s media summary.
As it had every day since Wichita, coverage of the Nova situation was trending down while coverage of our press tour heated up. Even though our Colorado Springs and Denver meetings hadn’t been directly related to Elustre or PennCo Fiber, the PR team had arranged interviews with local business reporters at each stop to help keep the positive coverage coming.
I made a satisfied sound and pushed the tablet back. “I do feel a little cooped up,” I admitted. “I can’t run at this altitude, but skiing would be nice. Do you have gear?”
Reagan pulled the tablet close and shook his head. “I didn’t think to pack anything like that, and it’s probably too cold to try skiing in sweats.”
We were currently parked in a campground near Silverthorne for a planned overnight stop. Here, we could receive packages, get our clothes washed, resupply the bus with groceries, and allow McGee time to freshen the place up. I’d originally planned to catch up on work, but now I had another idea.
“After breakfast, let’s find some ski clothes, then we can Uber to Keystone and hit the slopes.”
Reagan stared at me like I’d grown several extra heads. “But… January packed your schedule full today. You have at least two online meetings and a call from the Zurich people. There’s no way she’ll let you duck out of so many work commitments.”
I pulled out my wallet and slid a credit card free. “You forget she works for me, not the other way around. If I tell her to change the schedule, she will. Besides, most of those meetings are scheduled for this morning. If you pick up clothes for me, too, I can knock out the most important things while you’re shopping.” I handed him the card. “Charge it all to me. Oh, and make sure you get us good socks. Thick wool ones. Cold feet on the slopes are the worst.”
He continued to stare. “I’m not charging my stuff to your card,” he said.
I waved this away. “Consider it a bonus. Or, hell, hazard pay. You’ve been a real asset on this trip, Reagan, and I’d like to treat you to a nice afternoon on the slopes. We can even strategize tomorrow’s meeting with Maya and plan some more social media posts while we’re on the ski lift.”
Reagan shoved my card in his wallet. “I’ll charge your stuff, but I can afford my own ski clothes.” Something in his stilted tone alerted me to the fact I’d struck a nerve, and I frowned.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” I agreed slowly.
“I don’t need handouts. I’m an adult, and I’ve been paying my own way for months.” His cheeks went pink. “That might not sound like much since I was living off my parents for years, but?—”
“It is. Rent in the city isn’t cheap.” Especially not in a neighborhood like Reagan’s, on the PR assistant’s salary he’d been collecting for the last few weeks. That said a lot about how much he had to be earning from his social media management… just like his prickliness said a lot about how Trent and Patricia had tried to keep him in line.
I reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t offer to pay because I think you can’t afford it. I offered because you wouldn’t need to buy anything if you weren’t on this business trip or had been given more than twenty minutes to pack for it. It’s only fair that your employer carry the cost.” I lifted an eyebrow, hoping he saw a spark of challenge. If he continued to fight me on this, I was not going to be happy.
“Fine.” Tension in his jaw belied his easy response.
