“Yeah.” I flick my wrist to check my watch. “I have thirty minutes, right?”
Her arms cross. “That’s what I said.”
Digging in my pocket, I fish out my keys. “Here.” I hand them to her, and she reluctantly grabs them. “Go to my place and bring me back a change of clothes.”
Her eyebrows raise. “You’re going to let me dig through your things?”
She’s wasting time, and she knows it.
“Yes. Can you do it or not?”
A smile splits her face. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?”
I knew I should’ve fired her. “Look at me,” I deadpan.
Her eyes narrow and lips lift to a questioning smile. “Does this have something to do with a girl?”
Definitely getting fired. “Tawny! Can we talk about this later?”
She smiles, pleased. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Make it quick,” I snap.
At the pace of a sloth, she starts to walk out of my office and then lingers in the hallway outside of it. “Any preference in clothing?”
Jesus Christ. I could’ve been there and back by now with how long this is taking. “Something clean. You know what I wear.”
“Okay, be right back,” she says, practically bouncing with glee.
While she handles that, I take inventory of my office, meticulously scanning for anything that looks messy or out of place. Except for a few stray stacks of paper, everything looks to be in order. I tend to keep my office organized.
I pop a beta blocker for good measure and attempt to deal with my mussed hair. I look like hell. Bags hang heavy under my eyes. My hair is a lost cause from sweating on and off all day. A hat it is.
Slathering on a thick layer of deodorant, I continue to glance at the giant clock that hangs on the wall, praying time will slow down enough for Tawny to get back here with my change of clothes before Marisa shows up.
I try to not allow myself the time to overthink the nerves taking hold of me at the thought of Marisa coming into this space. It’s one thing to see each other in passing. It’s quite another to let her infiltrate this version of me. Though I try my damndest to maintain a facade of composure around the staff, the cracks begin to surface when I’m forced to engage one on one with someone. Given how often Marisa has seen the worstparts of my personality, it shouldn’t be hard for her to see past the image I work so hard to uphold. It’s draining, actually, the energy it takes to keep my overactive, racing thoughts from being written all over my face.
Tawny made quick work of her task and is back to the office with time to spare. I suppose she can keep her job. I use the private en suite to change into the fresh jeans and flannel she packed me, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. So much for that beta blocker. My clammy, trembling hands can hardly button and zip my pants. This is going to be a disaster. I’m already a mess, and the interview hasn’t even begun.
CHAPTER 18
Marisa
A NEPO BABY
Notebook? Check. List of questions? Check. Phone? Check. Pens? Double check.
I get to Ledger Winery with three minutes to spare before 2:30, which is when I scheduled with Ethan’s admin to conduct the interview. She was perfectly sweet on the phone. Part of me was expecting him to back out, but he stayed true to his word. So far, at least. We’ll see how the interview goes. There’s still a fifty percent chance it’ll end in a standoff.
There’s a hostess standing at a podium off the entrance. “Hi, are you here for a tasting or to dine in?”
“Oh…um…neither. I have a meeting with Ethan Ledger. I’m with theRed Mountain Herald.”
She gives me a customer service smile. “Okay, let me call up. Just a moment.” As she’s punching in the number, she points to a chaise lounge-style sofa. “You can have aseat while you wait.”
I take a seat andeavesdropon her call.
“Hi,Tawny, this is Gwen from the hostess station.There’sa reporter from theHeraldhere to see Ethan…mm-hhm…okay…will do…bye, thank you.” She hangs up and says, “Someone will be by shortly.”
