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Pamela:Nothing really. I’m freaking out. I took Kenner to preschool this morning and it was SO hard. He wrapped himself around my leg and cried. And then I came to work and cried.
My heart twisted, thinking of Pamela having to leave her son crying in an unfamiliar place. I thought being a parent had to be one of the hardest things in the world.
Me:He started on a Friday?
Pamela:He goes for a half-day today and then starts full time next week. It’s supposed to make it easier on both of us.
Me:Aha. I’m so sorry, P. Can you call to check and see if he’s doing better now?
Pamela:See? This is why I need you. That’s a good idea! Calling now. Thank you.
Me:Any time.
If only my own problems were so easy to solve. I entered the coffee shop, squinting into the dim interior and settlingat a table in front of the window. Hale wasn’t here. Still a chance he’d let me down. I waited.
A few minutes later, he strode in, the sun shining through his messy blond hair and highlighting the broad muscular form of his body. He spotted me and came to sit down. He was wearing dark indigo jeans and a soft long-sleeved green T-shirt, and my visceral reaction to him surprised me again, sending blood rushing to my cheeks and making me sit up taller in my chair. He’d trimmed the beard to a two-day scruff that skimmed the planes of his jaw, and his wavy blond locks had been pushed back from his face. The result was worlds away from the broody, careless image he’d conveyed in the coffeehouse. He looked put-together, composed, and completely confident. Even the way he was standing was different. His body language made me feel immediately as if he was in charge, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was intimidating and I found myself feeling nervous, fighting to control my composure. He was also handsome. No, not handsome. He was hot. As. Fuck.
This version of Hale was commanding, imperial. I wouldn’t have thought a shave and a shower could have such an impact. And I hadn’t expected to be thrown off so much by him. I took a deep breath and found my voice. “Thank you so much for this.”
“I’m glad you called,” he said. He pulled his chair closer to mine so we were both facing the window.
A waitress approached and we each ordered coffee. I drank my regular coffee with lots of cream, which Hale watched me stir in, his eyebrow raised. The air between usfelt strangely formal away from the coffeehouse. We were together in a new and different venue, and the situation felt especially strange to me, since this was my neighborhood and my local café. Hale was in my world suddenly, and it was actually kind of nice. No one else ever came to see me here, spent time in my neighborhood. Delia had been here, but because of the girls it was usually easier for me to go to her.
“Should we get to work?” I asked, trying to push whatever this odd sensation was firmly back into something I could understand, while ignoring the sense that I was sharing more than my idea for StrokeStat—that I was sharing something fundamental about me just by being here.
Hale had been watching me, his big body relaxed against the back of his chair, the dark eyes thoughtful. “Sure,” he said, almost sounding disappointed, as if he’d been expecting me to say something else. “Have you put together the slides for your presentation?”
“That’s what I’ve been working on,” I said, pulling up the slides. I hadn’t gotten far. “I got stuck. That’s why I called. I’m not sure how to talk about tech side of the new application.”
“Have you named it yet?”
I looked up from the slides, my eyes meeting his again. “What?”
“This isn’t StrokeStat anymore. Plus, that name carries a connotation of old technology. This is a completely new application. Give it a new name. Fastball or Speedstat or something.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up as I thoughtabout this idea, and a smile crossed my lips as I considered it. “I like that idea. But it doesn’t feel right.”
“Why not?”
“What would the executives think?” I asked, dropping my hands into my lap. “I’m operating totally under the radar here. I don’t know how much you know about the way things work up there, but I’m not sure the bigwigs would appreciate me taking liberties with their technology and rebranding it for them.”
That strange sadness flickered through his eyes again, but the gorgeous full lips smiled just before he said, “I think they’d be grateful.” There was a tone in his voice that made me think he knew something I didn’t, and I wondered again what Hale’s involvement at my company had been before he left. “Plus,” he said. “If you sell it, they’ll be too busy celebrating the ridiculous amounts of money this will bring in to care.”
A spike of excitement sent my skin tingling as I considered that. “And if I fail . . . ?”
“They’ll never know, anyway.”
I nodded as I sipped my coffee. “I guess the worst that could happen is I sell it and they change the name.”
“You’ve led a pretty sheltered life if you think that’s the worst thing that could happen.” His voice was dark, and he said this staring into his cup. But he was way off target.
“My life hasn’t been sheltered,” I told him.
“Tell me,” he said, inviting a complete change in topic.
There were other people in the restaurant, but Hale was so close to my shoulder that our space by the windowfelt sheltered and intimate. He’d moved close so we could look at my laptop screen together, but it also served to create a shield between us and the rest of the customers. We could talk quietly without being overheard, and the dark soulful eyes staring at me now almost had me wanting to talk. I’d never really talked to anyone about my past, about how I’d grown up, how lonely I’d always been. Delia knew, and that had seemed like enough. But now I had an urge to talk, and it wasn’t a completely uncomfortable feeling.
“Let’s just say my childhood wasn’t textbook,” I tried, watching his face. His eyes were intent on mine, and he leaned into me slightly. I could smell his soap—or his cologne—clean and woodsy. I had the fleeting feeling of being protected again, sheltered by his sheer size, by his dominating presence. I had never—not since I was at least ten years old—had the desire to be taken care of. Uncomfortable suddenly, I cleared my throat and pushed my chair away from him slightly.
