Page 5 of I Choose You

“Yep.” I smiled and nodded. “I can do that.” Todd, the owner of the company and my boss, tended to get forgetful when something popped up at home. His ten-year-old son had broken his arm from a fall at the playground over the weekend, and Todd was just as much of a worry-wart father as he was the head of the company. It came as no surprise to me that he’d be extra scatterbrained right now.

Forms in hand, I headed to my office to unload my purse and water. I set the forms aside, determined to get through the necessities before dealing with them.

First things first, coffee. In Todd’s private kitchen—that he welcomed me to use since I reported directly to him and saw him often—I found my organic creamer and collagen powder. As I waited for my drink to brew, I browsed on my phone.

Rena: Lunch today? Ruby’s café?

It had been a while since I had their chili. I quickly texted back.

Brooke: See you then!

I took my coffee into my office and made quick work of the necessities to ensure I could look forward to a smooth workweek. Check the schedules—done. Swap a couple of assignments—done. Review the emails from the supervisors who reported to me—done.

I sighed and sipped my coffee, glad I was already this far ahead on tasks. Everything in its place and a place for everything. My mom had instilled that motto in me, and as I arranged the pens on my desk, I enjoyed the satisfaction of being orderly here. I never had to hunt for anything.

When I spotted the pile of review forms, I moved on to those. Keeping Sandra waiting wouldn’t be wise. She had her own duties to tend to, and with Todd so harried, it would take both of us to keep him on task.

“You’re a rock star,” Sandra said when I dropped them off.

I winked at her and tapped her desk in parting. “If you need anything else, I’m here to help.”

Back in my office, I returned to my emails. I’d slotted a chunk of free time to check and read through the replies I’d received late Friday afternoon. A few weeks ago, I’d put out feelers for new clients and partnerships. Hunting around for them was half the ordeal. Reaching out to them and waiting for replies was infinitely harder.

The first two were vague. They were interested but not. They might want to speak again, but I could contact them to ask for a meeting.

“Which is what I did in that first email,” I muttered dryly.

I deleted two more that seemed like generic, automatic replies. I doubted a human had even seen them.

The next one, though?

A smile spread across my face.

“Nice,” I drawled the one word out, exaggerating just how nice this was. Wagner Industries had replied. I felt like I’d been shooting too far, thinking perhaps a little bit further than outside the box. Wagner Industries would be a unicorn client for the company. They were bigger than big, and a partnership with them would be lucrative. Todd would be ecstatic to have them as a client, and reading through their reply, I mentally patted myself on my back for daring to ask.

You never know unless you try, right?

A couple of other companies had also taken the bait. They wanted products from our company, but I kept circling back to the one from Wagner Industries.

I leaned over, ignoring the nagging thought that this posture was crappy for my back muscles. Propping my chin in my hand, I squinted as I read. “Why is that name so familiar?”

I shrugged, sitting back to type in a reply before breaking for lunch.

When I walked out, Sandra beamed at me. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

I paused at her desk to chat. “Oh, just knowing that Todd will be so pleased when he hears about a certain conglomerate wanting to do business with us.”

She raised her brows. “Get out of here. Really? What company?”

“Wagner Industries.”

“Damn, girl. You are a rock star. The rock star of this place. He’s going to be thrilled!”

With her praise, I headed out to meet up with Rena. I’d ride the high of a job well done as long as I could. Still, when I reached Ruby’s café, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that my hair was falling out of place.

Come on. How can it not be up? I’d used extra spray, but then again, I hadn’t tried this style in a while. Looking at my reflection in the café’s windows, I fixed the stray strands. But while I checked the rest of myself out, I worried this skirt was sticking to my thighs. A static electricity stickiness, not one that meant I’ve got long slender legs of muscles.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”