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“Cookies. Got it.”
“What do you want if you win?” I asked.
Weston shifted in the seat, resting one ankle atop his knee. He wore a navy-blue suit today, the cut of it as fantastic as always. It was a definite shift from the flannel pajamas I’d seen him in the other night—he looked amazing no matter what he wore, but I liked seeing both versions of him. All versions, really.
“Keep in mind,” I added. “That if you ask for anything too extravagant, I’ll have to dip into your money to provide it.”
He laughed at that, shaking his head as he continued to think on it.
I rolled my eyes. “It must besohard when you have everything you could ever want.”
Weston’s eyes met mine, the laughter and playfulness slipping right out of them. He met me with a serious, almost saddened look as he blew out a breath. A blink, and the look vanished, replaced by a challenging gaze that almost always meant trouble.
“If I win,” he said. “You can’t back out of the next adventure I plan.”
“You wouldn’t!” I gasped.
Weston was known for his adrenaline-junkie escapades when we went on trips for the monthly poker game, and while I thought myself to be a pretty courageous woman, there were some things I’d opted out of—like touring a live volcano becauseno.
“A bet is a bet,” he said, shrugging. “If you don’t want to take it—”
“Ugh,” I cut him off. “I’m in. I’m going to win anyway,” I said, eying my overflowing inbox.
“We’ll see,” he said, glancing at his phone. “Want to say it at the same time?”
“Sure.”
“Three, two…” Weston counted us down. “One.”
“Twelve-hundred and thirty-seven,” I said at the exact same time Weston said, “Fourteen-hundred and eighty-six.”
I gaped at his email number. “What?” I shook my head. “There is no way that is all from the past two days we’ve been out.”
He turned his phone toward me, leaning up in his seat so he could show me. I noted the evidence, then slammed back in my seat with a heavy dose of pout.
“You always win,” I said, a total sore-sport. I wassureI had him that time.
Weston chuckled, pocketing his phone as he stood up to lean over my desk. “Not always,” he said, resting his palms on my desk while he looked down at me. “But I’m surprised you have that many emails from only being gone two days.”
“That’s not counting the endless amount of ad copy waiting for approval in my Dropbox.”
“Looks like my assistant needs her own assistant,” he said.
“You think so?” I asked, honestly wanting his opinion.
I loved my new position, it was what I’d always dreamed of during college while I worked toward my degree…but I was currently managing two roles. Weston’s personal assistantandthe head of his marketing firm. I didn’t want to split myself too much, but I also knew I couldn’t be his personal assistant forever.
“Trust me,” he said. “Having a good personal assistant is a lifesaver.” He winked at me before heading toward my door.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll start looking.”
“Good idea,” he said, tapping my door as he swung it closed behind him. He paused before he got it all the way shut. “And good luck.”
It wasafter eight p.m. by the time I finished responding to all the emails and filtering through the ad copy and the rest of the tasks in my Dropbox. Add on top of that smoothing out Weston’s schedule to clear a path for some much-needed charity work, and I was wrecked, but satisfied in way that only a good, hard day’s work could do.
After powering down, I left the office with nothing but a hot bubble bath and a good book on my mind. Asher’s fiancé Daisy had just released a book, and I was more than ready to escape into it for an hour or two, but I stopped outside my door, shock filtering through me when I spotted a blue box siting on my welcome mat.
I scooped up the box, heading inside and setting it on the kitchen counter. There was a small card, and I opened it quickly.
