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Oh, and not only that. I also discovered that he has a new tattoo across his right shoulder and pec. Or at least, new to me. The last time I saw a photo of him online, this ink wasn’t there. It’s of scales, perfectly balanced. Probably something astrological. Parker has that woo-woo side of him. The side that believes in fate and destiny and all sorts of stuff. Stuff that maybe I’d believe in, too, if I ever had time to think about it.
But I don’t have time to think about things like that because I have work to do.
My company doesn’t run itself. I am a hands-on boss, and my employees count on me to be there for them when they need me.
So, with my mind on work—and also sort of on that image of shirtless Parker— I stumble all the way to the kitchen.
When we met in the dark hallway outside of the bathroom, he placed his hands gently on my elbows to stop us from actually bumping into each other.“Thought I heard a noise out here. I’m a light sleeper, I guess. You go first, Gem.”
My eyes were barely open at the time, but the minute he touched me awareness flooded my senses. I picked up on everything about him, including the way his dirty-blond hair stuck out in all directions because of bed-head. And the way his deep, sleepy voice resonated through me, all the way to the tips of my wool socks.
Would it really have been so bad to actually bump into him?
This has to stop.I can’t walk around this house in the dark thinking about colliding with Parker.
That’ll get me in trouble.
I fumble my way through the process of making a pot of coffee in an unfamiliar machine. Not easy, in my sleep-deprived state.
I’m used to being short on sleep, but even for me, getting nothing but three hours is extreme.
I wish I could turn over and fall back to sleep, but I can't.
The business world is competitive. If I slow down, I’ll fall behind. I’m in the rat race these days. I hate how I haven’t had a day off in forever, but what can I do? If I want to be successful, I have to keep running like everyone else.
It’s 4:15 now, which means I’m already fifteen minutes behind schedule. I like to have the most pressing emails answered by five at the latest, so I better get cooking.
Perched on a barstool near the marble counter, I sip java and stare into the wormhole that is my MacBook screen.
This morning my emails are relatively tame. I fire off a few to my Head of Marketing, Claire. She’s only been on the staff for four months, and so far I’m impressed by her work ethic. I recruited her after Right Match was featured in a documentary,Love in the Modern Age, at the Cannes Film Festival back in May. The documentary won a major award and in the weeks that followed, the office phones were ringing off the hook. Now that Claire is on board and handling inquiries from the press, I can focus back on big-picture stuff, which is where I excel.
Last night, it seems, Claire was burning some major midnight oil.You go, girl,I think, as I open her last email, which arrived in my box only a few hours prior. It’s about a marketing opportunity: a YouTuber with a big audience wants to interview me.
I quickly read through the details and discover that he typically gets over a million views per video that he posts. Am I up for the interview? Um… hello!‘Yes, absolutely,’I type. ‘Set it up.’
I polish off the last drops of coffee and hit send.
Up next, I have to tackle The Parker Issue, as I’ve mentally labeled it.
And for that, I’m going to need a second cup of coffee.
The caffeine’s starting to work, and I feel a bit perkier as I settle back onto the stool, a second mug of brain-fuel cupped in my hands. I pull up the main questionnaire that I’ll have to get Parker to fill in, and then stare at it.
It’s long.
There are sixty-eight questions that he’ll need to fill in, and most of them require serious thought.
But Parker said “No thanks.”
That’s not going to work for me. He can turn down my offer to help, if he wants. He’s stubborn. He’s Parker. But I’m here to get this done, and I’m not leaving Pines Peak without giving this Parker Wife Hunt one-hundred percent of my effort.
The thing is… how is my effort going to help, whenhe’sthe one who has to answer all these questions?
I could tie him down and force the answers out of him. Ha. I wish. He’s about twice my height and twice my weight.
Okay, brute force won’t work. Hypnosis?
No… that won’t work either. Even if I learned how to hypnotize a person by watching the videos I am sure are out there on the internet in abundance, knowing Parker he’d probably fall into a stupor and give me confusing, nonsensical answers, like how the woods make him happy for no reason.
