Page 39 of Good Directions

“Seriously?”

That’s what she wants?

Sawyer nods, as serious as I’ve ever seen her. “I’m applying for a promotion—Lead Soil Research and Development Manager. A letter of recommendation from the Vice President of Agriculture and Produce for Hayes Industries would go a long way.”

I don’t believe my ears. She’s willing to do this. Willing to be my date to my sister’s wedding to help me win a bet. And all she wants in return is a letter of recommendation? Sold.

“Done.”

I hold out my hand, ready to make the deal. Sawyer slips her hand into mine, the contact from our skin sending a zing down my spine. This has the potential to be dangerous, but right now, I don’t care.

I have what I need.

“It’s a date.”

10

ANTON

The executive conference room at Hayes Industries is less than a two-minute walk from my office. Exactly one hundred and fifty-four steps.

Not that I’ve counted.

Which means it’s still too early for me to walk that way for Munch—short for Monday lunch—the weekly lunch meeting where the heads of each department get together to update each other on what is going on, talk strategy, and brainstorm if needed. And by heads of each department, I mean my siblings and me. After all, the seven of us are the ones who keep this place running.

Drumming my fingers against the desk, I sigh, staring at the clock, willing it to move faster. This whole morning has crawled. That’s what I get for coming into the office rather than the lab where I belong. Or better yet, spending the morning in the groves.

My laptop dings, the tinny sound echoing through the too quiet air, making the already large space that I share with Hux, who is also rarely here, seem even bigger and more empty. The empty desk sitting catty-corner to mine, plus the set of four guest chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room, only serve as a reminder of how unused this office is. If it weren’t for Auggie insisting that we all maintain an office at headquarters, I wouldn’t bother, but this morning it seemed like a wise idea to spend some time here rather than the lab.

I look down, hoping that the email notification will be something—anything—to distract me until it’s food time.

No dice.

The only thing Willa’s prior month’s corporate giving breakdown is good for is putting me to sleep. Don’t get me wrong; I’m proud of what we do at Hayes with our Hayes Cares program and gladly contribute to it with what we produce in our fields, groves, and greenhouses. None of that makes me want to read the monthly breakdown of the numbers and the tax implications.

“I didn’t realize you were in this morning,” Jace says, leaning into the office.

Filing Willa’s email, I look up from my laptop, already trying to anticipate what Jace is thinking. As the family wild card, but also the family romantic, he can be hard to read. He’s also the one who knows how to push my buttons.

The button pusher’s button pusher, if you will.

“Yeah, just…” I trail off, my lack of prepped story coming back to bite me.

I just what? Needed quiet? Privacy? To think?

All of that can be accomplished at my lab. Or at home. It’s not like I had a meeting other than Munch, which I regularly slide into late because I’m hoofing it over from the lab or the field.

“You’re hiding,” Jace finishes for me.

Nope, that is not it.

“No.”

“Yup!”

He throws the single-word comeback over his shoulder as he turns down the hall. I’m up and out of my chair faster than I can think, leaving it spinning behind me.

“Am not!”