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He returned my stare with equal intensity. “As much as I enjoy correcting a Stanford grad, this needs to be the end of it.”
“End of what?” I asked, transferring my weight after making the mistake of shifting my gaze for a moment to that scar on his chin.
He moved forward, backing me against the car, until there were mere inches between us. “Of you questioning my motives. If you want to walk away, fine. But if you stay, we’re a team with a capital T, both working for the good of Rossi’s. You need to back me up, not cut me down. I’ll always be honest with you and always work for the good of the company. That’s a promise.”
The words were cold, harsh, but his breath against me was hot. Those pale blue eyes held mine.
He moved an inch closer. “Well?”
I searched his eyes for deception or malice. I had to decide if the man I’d clung to in Sioux City was truly on my side. “I just thought…”
His face hardened. He caged me with a hand on either side and moved even closer. “No wishy-washy filler words, Stanford. You trust me or you don’t. I’m in this to make things right. You’re either with me or you’re not. Make up your mind.”
Chapter 15
Josh
“I trust you,”Nicole said. The scared eyes of a moment ago had shifted to calm and determined, almost happy eyes. She bit her lip, placed a hand on my chest, and pushed gently.
The electric feel of her touch against my shirt surprised me. I’d gotten way too far into her personal space, but I needed to corner her into a decision—one she couldn’t back down from or put off. Damn, if the girl didn’t make me want to get even closer.
I backed away. “Good. We’re ateam. Don’t forget that.” It would have been so easy to kiss her right then and there—so easy, and so wrong. But my sense was that she wanted it, almost expected it.
Her eyes closed momentarily as she took a slow breath—confirmation this had been intense for her as well. Had she wanted it, or feared it? She was a dangerous minx, this one, with more than a hint of desire in her eyes.
“Which restaurant?” I asked, shoving my nervous hands into my pockets.
“This way,” she said as she started off.
I followed, which gave me a moment to admire her walk and the sway of her ass without her noticing.
She turned into the Rossi’s front doors. “We’ll start with a tour of the store.”
It was larger than I’d imagined, bright and airy. “Where are we eating?”
“We’ll get to that. First we’ll look around a little.
The name tags they wore were my saving grace.
The store manager, Wanda, had been waiting for us and was the second person Nicole introduced me to.
“Wanda, I’m just going to give Mr. B a tour of the store before we go upstairs.”
“Sure thing. I’ll meet you up there,” Wanda replied.
Nicole led me to the left, stopping to introduce an endless parade of people I couldn’t possibly keep straight. She had taken it upon herself to decide the employees should address me the same way Dee did: Mr. B.
I went through at least a dozennice to meet yous in the produce section. And I learned that the proper term wasassociates, not employees.
“The state requires stores to label the country of origin,” Nicole explained. “We list both the region and the individual farm for all stateside produce.”
As we passed the apples, I noticed not only more varieties than I was used to, but groupings by farm within the same variety. “Do customers care?”
Nicole’s face instantly telegraphed that I’d asked an absurd question. “Our guests do.”
Another lesson, this store didn’t havecustomers, it hadguests.
Silly me to think an apple was an apple.
