Page 20 of Never To Be Mine

“Juno.” He smiled. It wasn’t the cocky grin from the expo or the challenging smirk from yesterday. It was a professional smile that probably made board members hand over funding without a second thought. And made women drop their panties.

I was not going to be one of those women.

“Mr. Blackwell.” I gestured to the chair across from my desk. “Have a seat.”

“Hollis,” he said. “Please.”

He sat down and immediately pulled out a tablet, setting it on my desk between us.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” he said. “I know this isn’t ideal for either of us, but I want to make the most of it.”

I blinked. That was surprisingly diplomatic. I’d expected him to come in swinging or at least lead with some comment about yesterday.

“Right,” I said, recovering quickly. “So let’s talk about your business plan. You need to get your orders up to a million to make this partnership viable. We’ll need to come up with a plan to get you⁠—”

“PriceCo,” he interrupted, then had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Sorry. I’m just eager to get into this.”

“PriceCo,” I repeated slowly. “The big box store.”

“Exactly.” He tapped something on his tablet and turned it toward me. “I’ve already set up a meeting with their executives.”

I stared at the email confirming a meeting with PriceCo’s senior buyer and two of their distribution managers.

“You already have a meeting scheduled?” I asked, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.

“I’ve been trying to get their attention for months,” he explained. “But they weren’t interested because I couldn’t handle the volume they needed. Now that your company is potentially in the picture? They’re suddenly very interested in talking.”

He pulled up another screen, this one showing what looked like a detailed proposal. Market research. Projected sales figures. Distribution logistics. It was thorough.

“I’ve done the research,” he continued. “PriceCo has been expanding their wellness section. They’re looking for products that appeal to younger demographics, health-conscious consumers who want convenience. My smoothies fit that profile perfectly. They’re portable, they taste good, and they’re positioned at a price point that’s accessible but not so cheap people think they’re low quality.”

I scrolled through his proposal, my professional instincts kicking in despite myself. The data was solid. The market analysis was actually impressive.

“You put this together yourself?” The question came out before I could stop it.

His jaw tightened slightly. “Yes. I mean, I consulted with people that know more about business than I do, but the strategy is mine.”

I sat back in my chair, processing this new information. I’d expected to have to hold his hand through every step. To explain basic business concepts. To essentially babysit while he played entrepreneur.

But this? This was someone who’d done his homework.

I hated that he might be good at this.

“I’d like you to come to the meeting with me,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re vetting me, right? Plus, having someone from Young at Heart there will strengthen the pitch. Show them this isn’t just me flying solo anymore, bottling my drinks in my little warehouse space.”

He wasn’t wrong. His logic was sound. I couldn’t find any holes in it.

“Fine,” I said. “Send me whatever materials you’re planning to present so I can review them beforehand.”

“Already done.” He tapped his tablet. “Just sent them to your email.”

I pulled up my inbox on my computer. Sure enough, it was there.

Who the hell was this person, and what had he done with the smug pretty boy from the expo?