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Jasper Huxley was a dreamy combination of expert gamer, tech-savvy professional, and fun to be around. He made his friends laugh, and if I was ever fortunate enough to find myself in his inner circle, I’d consider myself lucky as all heck.
I opened my eyes and focused on my work. Maybe impressing Hux with my own tech abilities and protecting his team was the first step in gaining his respect.
4
HUX
Jacob Horn was not a calm man.
“Dammit, Champ, I was counting on you to get us out of this PR disaster,” he said, pacing behind the chair at the head of the conference table in Horn of Glory’s executive offices. Weak February sunlight glinted off his fancy watch and the bald spot at the crown of his head. “I took a chance on you, even though there were plenty of other, better-established companies who wanted my business, because I trusted you to get the job done. And now you’re saying you’ve failed?”
Ugh. I bristled. I couldn’t help it. There was nothing I hated more than indiscriminate use of the f-word, especially when it wasn’t warranted. Champ hadn’t failed; our team had made a choice—the correct one—and I wanted to punch Jacob Horn in the mouth for suggesting otherwise.
Clearly, I wasn’t feeling very calm either.
To be fair, my mood wasn’t all about Jacob Horn. I was still seriously angry about Kev’s antics from the day before. Who violated the integrity of a man’s system for the sole purpose of embarrassing him? Who mooned over a pissant HOG-champion wannabe like fucking Anomaly451 as though he was God’s gift to e-boyfriends?
“He makes me feel capable and cared-for,” Kev had claimed. Puh-lease. Like Kev Rogers, with his pretty face and off-the-charts intelligence, had ever had a reason to feel bad about himself?
I’d been so worked up I’d tossed and turned all night, and when I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d had a crazy dream—one where I’d sat buck naked in Kev’s expensive leather chair in the middle of his tricked-out lair, pushed Kev to his knees, threaded my hands into his thick hair, and made him choke and gasp his way through a very thorough apology blow job while wearing nothing but those damn black glasses. One where I’d shown Kev that Anomaly wasn’t the only person who could make Kev feel capable and cared for.
I’d woken with the smell of vanilla and coffee in my nose and a raging erection—me, having wet dreams about Kev Rogers? Christ. What was the world coming to?—which had riled me further.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Champion,” Jacob Horn prompted. “For some explanation.”
I felt a migraine brewing behind my eyes, so I fingered my earring and took a deep breath. I directed my gaze out the window to the pasture full of grazing cattle on the far side of the employee parking lot and focused on counting cows to chill myself out.
The Horn of Glory Corporation headquarters was a modern chrome-and-glass building that would have been right at home in New York or Miami or even Nashville. Here on the outskirts of Licking Thicket, surrounded by fields full of cows and alfalfa, it looked a little like an alien spaceship that had crashed to earth.
I’d always figured they’d chosen to locate here partly because Horn of Glory had been created by a Thicket local and partly because we had the best of both worlds, with the affordability of rural Tennessee and the proximity to Nashville’s technical talent pool. Even knowing that, though, it had still struck me as strange.
It was as if Amazon or Boeing had suddenly decided to move their corporate offices to the tiny northwest Pennsylvania town where I’d grown up so their executives could gaze out the window at the Elks Club, where my former-Marine dad had spent his evenings, and the Lutheran Church, where my mom still spent her days, and the tiny field where my runty ass had begun and ended my high school football career all in the same game.
Why would anyone in their right mind do that?
Watching Jacob Horn rant and pace, I figured I understood. Anyone who had to deal with the man for more than a few minutes needed some cheerful, pastoral scenery to look at, or they might lose their shit entirely.
Champ, who had far more practice being professional than I did, kept his usual calm and controlled demeanor. “We greatly value HOG Corporate as a client, and I feel like we’ve gone above and beyond in order to fulfill our duty. However, I’m not in a position to break federal law by withholding data critical to a DEA investigation.” He took a breath. “We would love nothing more than to find a way to keep the company name out of it, but unfortunately, we seem to have run out of options.”
Jacob pinned Champ with a stare. “There is no limit to the budget for this.”
