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How can I hate this woman and want her at the exact same time?
Even now, I’m starting to feel it… that attraction. When she brushes her bangs out of her face and finally looks me in the eyes, a jolt passes through me, head to toe.
I remember how right it felt to lie beside her on that big beach towel. How, for those entire ten minutes, I wanted to pull her in closer.
Her eyes search mine. Her pupils are dark in their orbs of honey-gold. Golden rays filter across her face. Morning sunlight looks good on her.
“Jack… look.” Her tone sounds genuine for the first time since we started this discussion. “I know you’re a risk taker. I’ve worked with you for almost a year, remember? You’re the fast-lane type. Living big, taking chances. But that’s not me. I am a careful person… and I care about work. Devina assigned that task, and I can’t ignore that.”
“Okay.” I exhale. “Fine. Okay. I’ll look at my email. You said it’s about the Shopper Shark clients?”
She nods and draws in more of her coffee. “Yeah. I tried fixing an email sequence we delivered to them, but they’re still not happy with it.”
“Who’s not happy with it? I mean, who are you dealing with, specifically?”
She frowns. “Chad, I guess.”
“Well, there’s the answer. Chad won’t be happy with anything we deliver until he sells his house.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s up to his eyeballs in money problems. He went upside down on some two-story monster, and he’s trying to get out from under it. We talked about it for hours the other day. He’s really worked up… how he can’t sell the thing, how he’s been trying for months. I think at one point he might have cried a little.”
“He cried… to you?”
“I mean, we’re sort of buds.” I shrug it off. “He won’t be satisfied with anything in his life, work, or anything else until he gets his house thing figured out. The guy’s a mess. I bet we could send him hundreds of email sequences, and he’d find fault with every single one.”
“Great,” Hazel mutters.
“What he needs is a good real estate agent… You know any out in the Seattle area?”
“Jack, that’s not a solution that Buzzy Digital Marketing can offer. We don’t find real estate agents for our clients. I can’t believe I have to remind you of this, but we provide copywriting and advertising services, not?—”
I snap my fingers in the air. “Got it. Mark Whitley.”
“Excuse me?”
I already have my phone out. “Sweet. I still have his number. I’ll shoot him a text. He’s out that way, bet he knows someone. Dude’s great…”
I start typing up the brief message.
“How do you know this guy?” Hazel asks.
“I met him in the bread aisle.” I hit send on the message and slide my phone back into my pocket.
“You met a man in the bread aisle and got his phone number.”
I shrug again. I remember how the guy, Mark, was reaching for hamburger buns. He saw me in my KTM jersey, and we ended up chatting about motorcycles. “He has a vacation place out near where I live.”
“That doesn’t explain it.”
“You’ve never made a friend in the bread aisle?”
“No. And I don’t see how finding Chad a real estate agent would make him more satisfied with our copywriting services, anyway. This is ridiculous.” She shakes her head, takes a quick sip of her coffee, and then sets it aside.
When she pulls out her phone, it’s with an air of determination. “Look, I’ll just email Devina and tell her that we talked, and we’ll come up with a solution. We’ll nail down the nitty-gritty of it later.”
Her fingertips brush her phone screen. Her brow is knit, her lips pursed. But then, her expression brightens. “Oh!”
