“No, you’re fine. I lost track of time with…the planning of it all.”
I lost track of time in your freaking smile. Your face…your everything, really.
Ope, okay. Shutting our notepad, I stand up and round my desk. “Emily, if you’ll go ahead and seat my parents, let them know I’ll be right out.”
I wait for her nod then the click of my office door before turning back to Adam. “Well, rather productive meeting, I guess you could say. I’ll look into the photo booth timeline and custom details, then let you know.”
Adam gives a small bob of his head. “Could I get your number?”
Damn butterflies in my stomach flutter at full force, and while I’m too busy getting them under control, Adam adds on, “You know, for the party. Just in case.”
Well, it’s just for the party… “You have my email.”
Adam doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, but I want your number.”
I should say no. I just completely lost track of time talking to him. I’m afraid that Adam’s Mr. Serious demeanor was misplaced…he’s what could be serious. Flirting with Beck immediately felt like a fling, but with Adam…I think I’ll get flung right into a fully-committed relationship.
The odd part is I’m not sure if that terrifies or excites me about him.
I’ve said no countless times to giving out my number, but I don’t want to do that this time. That alone should be reason enough to keep our communications as professional as possible—I meet those searing copper eyes again…ah, screw it.
“Alright.” I scribble my number on a sticky note. “There’s gonna be a fee for having your event coordinator on-call, you know that, right?”
“Send me the invoice. I’ll pay it.” The look on his face shows nothing but pure cocky confidence. Lucky for him, I can go toe to toe with him on that front, too.
I peel off the sticky note and playfully press it on his hard chest. “I charge per message, All-star.”
Adam takes a small step in, careful not to be in my face, but close enough that the scent of him nearly threatens to have me breaking my cool, calm, and collected exterior. “I’ll make every text worth it then.”
I hold my smile, watching him as he moves to my office door. “Nice talking business with you.”
Adam lets out a hushed laugh. “We’ll pick it back up later. Have a nice lunch, Mia.”
I wait a solid five seconds after the click of my door before I let the chill roll through my body. “Gah, he’s hot,” I mumble to myself.
I let out one more shake of my body in hopes of getting this giddy, charged feeling out. Come on, ovaries, get your act freaking together. Yes, he’s hot and knows how to actually hold a conversation, which somehow makes him hotter—still it was just a conversation.
I definitely don’t want to take this happy schoolgirl blushing smile to the table with my parents. My mother would see the smitten kitten look from across the bar, and while I don’t think it should be viewed any type of way—I don’t want my father to seeme as anything but a professional now that he’s officially signing Winedown over to me.
Walking out my office door, I weave through the kitchen and the bar while getting hellos, nods, and smiles from my employees. To anyone else, I might appear too flirty, too personable, or a woman who lucked out by having rich parents—and with others, that’s fine. I’ve spent the past year proving to my staff that while I may appear that way, I am the boss and I am not to be trifled with.
Yes, I can be flirty, but often it’s my confidence that comes off more as a threat than anything. Perhaps that’s why talking to Adam was more enjoyable. He seemed to match my confidence, but also didn’t feel like he was trying to talk down to me at the same time.
“Hi, so sorry I’m late.” As I reach the table, my dad stands with a hug, then pulls my chair out for me to sit.
“That’s okay. Did you have a productive meeting?” he asks, taking the seat across from me.
Productive? Without question.
Longer than it should have been? Yeah, very much so…but fun.
“I did. It’s for a large event, and we had a lot to cover.” I’ll mention who it’s for later. I want this conversation prioritized on the matter at hand, not the baseball team and their extremely hot catcher who’s helping organize it.
A proud smile comes to my dad’s face. “Well, that’s great. If you need any help on it, just let me know.”
While I know his offer is coming from a genuine place, I hold strong. There is no “I believe” or “I think” when it comes to talking to my parents. Especially with my father. You speak in respectful confidence only.
“I have it under control. Thank you, though.”
