Sharon rolled her eyes but didn’t press the subject further. I knew that she knew what I was saying was bullshit, but she was kind enough not to point it out. I had cried one too many times over a bottle of wine with Sharon for her to fall for the same excuses I rattled off to everyone else.
“Are you ready for the new client pitch this afternoon?” she asked, graciously changing the subject.
“I was just about to go through the deck again. Did you see pictures of this property? It’s gorgeous. It looks straight out of a movie. Almost makes me want to move out to the mountains.”
She snorted. “Right, and give up your beach days? Not likely.”
“Snow just seems so romantic, though.”
I sighed and stared at the pictures of the property I had pulled up. It was located next to a ski resort in Colorado. The Key Ridge Ski Lodge. We managed resorts across the state of Florida and had recently opened our portfolio to other states. The prospective client’s town was growing in popularity, but they were having trouble scaling. The property was large, and a huge potential money grab for the winter months. I had to nail this pitch.
“I can picture Mike in a Speedo better than I can picture you in snow.”
“You’re only saying that because hedidwear a speedo at last year's holiday party.”
We both doubled over, cackling, until a knock at the door interrupted our outburst.
“Mattie.” My boss, Mike, stepped into my office. “Are you ready for the Colorado pitch? The clients just arrived from the airport. I know we scheduled the meeting for this afternoon, but they’re earlier than expected, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Just then, a gray-haired woman, maybe in her early sixties, and a thirty-something guy walked past my office. The guy was lean and muscular with dirty blond scraggly hair and stubble. He looked rugged and athletic. Although attractive, the scowl he was wearing and the hard set of his jaw were a turnoff for me. Mysteriously moody was not my type, but he was undeniably good-looking, nonetheless.
Sharon gasped. “Was that Giles Stone?”
“Who?” I asked at the same time Mike nodded.
“His family owns the property. He came with his aunt to hear the pitch.” Mike made a move to follow them before turning back to me. “I’m going to go with them to the conference room. Meet us there in five.”
With that, he rushed out of the room before I could object.
“Who is Giles Stone?” I asked again.
“He’s a professional snowboarder,” Sharon whispered despite the subject of our conversation being nowhere within hearing range. “Or he was. I think he retired, but he was in the last two Winter Olympics. How have you never heard of him?”
“Oh right,thatGiles Stone. I’m such a huge fan of snowboarding. Itotallyforgot I have his poster hanging in my room.”
Sharon rolled her eyes at my sarcasm. “I’m not a winter sports fan either, but he’s gorgeous. There’s something extra attractive about a guy that does winter sports.”
She came around to my side of the desk and pulled my keyboard toward her. She opened a search engine and typed his name in. Pictures of him filled my screen. They mainly consisted of him in winter clothes contorting his body into crazy positions high up in the air.
I stared at her. “Um, what’s attractive about winter sports? You can’t even see him underneath all those layers. I can’t believe you even recognized him.”
She clicked on a picture of him shirtless on the cover of a sports magazine to enlarge it.
“You were saying?” she asked.
“He’s okay there, I guess.”
“You should read up on him so you’re prepared.”
“By ‘read up’ do you mean stare at half-naked pictures? I only have five minutes.” I closed the window she had opened. “I need to review this deck one more time. I’m sure snowboarding, or his career, is not going to come up in our presentation.”
“If you say so.” She walked back around toward my office door. “Hey, if it comes up organically, mind slipping him my number in case he’s looking for something to do while he’s in town?”
I laughed and tossed a balled-up piece of notebook paper at her.
“Out.”
* * *
