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They lie.
They omit truths.
They promise one thing and do another.
They leave.
I draw in a sip of wine and do my best not to think about past hurts. “At least nuts and bolts make sense.”
“Yeah, but even if you know all the schematics of how every single nut and bolt in the car fits together, you’re never gonna sell it to someone who feels bad. You gotta get the person feeling good, in the mood to believe in what you’re pitching.”
“This isn’t about believing in some tooth fairy, Jack. This is about what we can actually offer.”
“I’m not suggesting we sell ‘em snake oil to cure all their ailments. I’m just saying I checked out the email sequence you tinkered with, and it’s already stellar. Perfect. Flawless. Beautiful.” His eyes snag mine. “Our problem is Chad.”
I lean back in my chair.
He slipped in that ‘beautiful’ word—along with one of his looks, again—for my benefit. Even though I know he’s using his charm, I feel myself falling for it.
I do quick battle with a smile but lose.
It sneaks onto my lips for a minute. “Fine. Whatever. You’re going to insist on going about this your way, aren’t you? You said yourself that you’re stubborn.”
“Now you’re getting me.” His grin produces those show-stopping, mother-pleasing dimples, the same ones our photograph featured so prominently.
No wonder my mom texted me to say that she printed the pic at CVS and is going to buy a frame. I bet the frame has ‘Hazel & Matt’ custom engraved along the bottom.
That’s a problem for another day.
I have enough on my hands at the moment.
Namely, the hunk of hotness sitting across from me in a bright Hawaiian shirt. He spins his laptop so I can see it. “Check it out,” he announces.
I see a real estate agent’s website on the screen. The house on display is a sprawling two-story Victorian with crooked shutters.
“Chad’s money pit,” Jack says happily. “My buddy?—”
“Your bread aisle friend…”
“Yep. Mark Whitley, what a guy. He got me in touch with this realtor out in Seattle, and I connected her with Chad. They already had a few bites, and it’s only been eight hours.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you realize this has nothing to do with Buzzy Digital Marketing and our services?”
“Hazel, trust me. This is going to work. Once Chad sees the light at the end of the tunnel with this house thing, he’s going to be a new man. Forget the Gold Package or whatever, he’ll be snapping up our big-ticket offerings.”
“The Gold Package is our big-ticket offer.”
“Oh.”
I reach for my ice water.
Impossible.
He is literally impossible to work with.
And the dazzling smile he’s now flashing me really isn’t helping matters.
The swoony woman inside me—the one who so desperately wanted to be the little spoon to his big yesterday on that beach towel—is enjoying this dinner already.
