“At least I wouldn’t have to move unless I wanted to. I could have a real home and put down roots.”
Rough childhoods. Another thing they had in common. “After Ginny told you about my company, what happened?”
McKenna admitted she and Ginny discussed how disruptive Campbell and other women had become with him in the office. “I expected she’d say you shouldn’t be there. But honestly, after that, our conversation is a blur. She said something about needing you in the office. I asked if she had problems with my work performance. Then she claimed there was too much work for one person, she wanted a break, and you misunderstood what she said. I was shocked when she said she wanted you to help with everything.”
Zane shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your conversation with her sounds a lot like mine. The question is, Mac, what do we do about it? I am not losing my weekends.”
Being around her that much might do him in. He’d never been one to resist temptation long.
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. What had he said to tick her off now?
“Excuse me? Mac? I thought we dealt with my name before, but in case you forgot, it’s still McKenna.”
“No one’s ever called you Mac?”
“Never, and I’d prefer no one did now.”
Color flooded her cheeks. Her eyes glowed with intelligence, and he realized teasing her was the most fun he’d had in a month of Sundays. “You’re too stuffy. Look at the way you’re dressed and your hair.”
She smoothed a hand over the loose tendrils curling around her face, trying to coax them into submission before she admitted defeat and tucked them behind her ears. Then she wrapped her arms around her middle like a shield. “What’s wrong with my hair and what I’m wearing? They’re both professional.”
“My grandmother wears her hair in a bun, and in case you haven’t noticed, she’s a lot older.”
McKenna rolled her eyes. “Really? I’m glad you told me.”
He grinned at her sarcastic comeback. “Dressing in all black makes you look like you’re fixin’ to go to a funeral.” He chuckled. “Kind of ironic since you plan weddings.”
“I’m not wearing all black. My blouse is mint green.”
“Close enough. Have you seen how most women ’round here dress? Even New York City ones like Cassie and Grace?” When she glared at him, he continued. “They wear jeans, a shirt that actually fits, and cowboy boots. Have you ever thought how you look to folks in town?”
“I look like a competent professional.”
“Folks are still sizing you up. People want to know the person throwing their party is relatable and fun. They want to feel like they’re working with a friend.”
“People don’t want a friend. They have those. They want perfection without having to see to tasks themselves. Our clients want to know the person organizing the most important event in their lives is efficient, organized, on top of trends, and detail oriented. They value my years of industry experience, including having worked for the most in-demand wedding planning company in Houston.”
“If you’re too formal, it puts people off. If that happens, you never get to impress them with the rest. And your trends argument is a point in my favor. No one, not even a man, would think a woman dressed like you knows a lick about trends.”
She twirled her small pearl earring between her thumb and index finger. “Just because I don’t dress in the latest fashion doesn’t mean I don’t know the trends, and for your information, I’ve never been criticized for being too formal.”
“You’ve never worked in a small town before.” He walked to the large window on the far office wall and called McKenna over. When she stood beside him, he tried to ignore her lavender and mint scent as he pointed outside. “Look around, sweetheart. If you go a mile, maybe a little more east, you’ll see hay fields and cattle. This courthouse is the tallest building in town. It’s three stories. People here see being formal as putting on airs.”
“I never considered that. I’ll grant you know people here better than I do, so I’ll think about what you said. Thank you for telling me. I want to be an asset to Ginny, not a liability.”
What? McKenna admitted he had a point, said she’d consider what he said, and thanked him? Maybe he’d somehow hit his head and had a minor concussion.
“But back to what sent us down this rabbit hole,” she said with a tinge of irritation. “Since it’s my name in dispute, I’m the final judge, and I prefer you use the one my parents gave me.”
He resisted the urge to grin at the return of the take charge McKenna. “Noted.”
“Also, don’t call me sweetheart or honey. Other women you deal with might like that, but it’s not appropriate between business associates.”
“Is that another of your rules?”
“No, because I’ve never had this issue before.”
“It’s special being the first.”
