Right. Conversations required paying attention. “Yes? Sorry. I was just messing with you. Sorry. What were you going to say?” They were better on professional footing.
“My brother develops software. It’s one of his things.”
She leaned back, impressed. “One of his things?”
His smile made that dimple appear, and Everly did her best to ignore the impact on her pulse. Just nerves. Always nerves.
“He’s a tech geek,” Chris said with an easy-to-hear affection. “He has something for us to try. I’m going to take all the applicants as they come in, screen them, make sure they’ve checked all the boxes, and then send them to him. He’ll upload them to this app, and it’ll be like your personal version of Tinder.”
Tinder? Like swipe right and heart me? The phone rang behind her, but since her lungs weren’t working, she let it go.
Chris continued, excitement shining in his hazel-ish eyes. “You’ll be able to go through the screened options and choose ones you’d consider. Once you settle on two for the first week, we’ll announce. Those profiles will go up on the website. We have the choice of taking applicants over the next few weeks, or we can choose a cutoff date within the next week or so. That gives you the option of knowing all your choices well in advance. I was thinking that with your anxiety, that might be a better way to go.”
Just like that, the room shrank. Oddly enough, her lungs started working again. Pushing back from her seat, she stood, brushing his arm with her hip. She went to her bag and pulled her water out of it, took a long drink, letting it soothe her dry throat. There’d been absolutely no judgment or condescension in his tone. With your anxiety.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
She turned, tried to keep her emotions from taking over. “I just … Most people don’t mention my anxiety as if it’s one more characteristic to describe me. Like, ‘Oh, well, with your red hair, the color is all wrong.’”
His brows furrowed. “You have brown hair.”
Her lips fought the smile, because it was ridiculous to feel so much appreciation that she wanted to beam. She closed her eyes, pushed the feelings down. “Never mind.” Now wasn’t the time to tell him how good it felt to have someone say it like it was just an acceptable piece of her—something that could be easily accommodated, like inviting a vegetarian for dinner.
Her parents, former friends, and exes had called her many things: neurotic, fussy, anal, bitchy, uptight. But they’d never once worked to understand the feelings that came along with having anxiety. They’d never made simple adjustments to plans to take her feelings into consideration. They’d downplayed most of her feelings until she’d questioned whether she felt them. People didn’t understand that she didn’t want the extra stumbling blocks her worries threw into her path. They just happened, and navigating around them was exhausting. The fact that Chris was taking everything about her into consideration made Everly feel too much. Which made her anxious. Because, of course.
“Continue. Please.”
Chris folded his arms over his chest. “Okay. You’ll go through the app and pick your dates. We’ll set things up, but I think the initial contact would be best if made by you. You’ll be able to text through the app, which I think is one of the best parts. You can go back and forth a little before you talk on the phone or meet, without sharing your actual contact information.”
A halo of questions seemed to vibrate around her brain. “Will there be time for all of that?” Two dates a week, two guys. Twice the communication and interaction. She’d talked to her ex only a couple of times a week by phone. They texted most of their plans because she hated being on the phone. Now, she’d have to ring a couple of guys up every second day and be all, “So, you want to take me out, huh?” Everly laughed at the thought of even being able to say that out loud.
“Are you okay?” Chris stood and walked into her space. He took the water from her and set it on the desk. “Seriously, Everly. You can still back out. If you’re not okay with this. If—”
“I hate talking on the phone,” she blurted.
His mouth formed an o at her interruption and the realization of what she was worried about. Then he smiled, and it felt soft and intimate like a hug. One of those ones where the person pulls you right in and smooths their hands over every part they can touch.
“Of course. Texting is okay, right?”
She laughed to cover the awkwardness she felt. “Yes. It is. And so is being on the phone when I need to. I just … I’ve never dated two men at once. It’s all new to me.” Way to put it mildly.
Pushing past him, she went back to her seat. “I’ll be fine. Once we get going, I’ll settle in, I’ll know more about what to expect.”
“Then you’re sure?” He spoke from behind her, and she swiveled again to face him.
“I think we’re out of options at this point, boss.”
Chris scrunched his face at the word boss, which made Everly smile. “It’s easy to feel like there’s no way out, but we always have options. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”
Everly pulled in a deep breath and took her time letting it out, feeling her body relax with the exhale. “No. You won’t, and you’re not. I chose to do this.” It’s an opportunity to take control in several areas of your life.
She turned back to her computer, ready to bury herself in work and the rest of their segment.
“Everly?” His voice was husky, nearly whispered. Sensations rippled over her skin from the three syllables, taking their time and leaving a mark. What’s that about? Need another reminder he’s your boss? Maybe I’ll put it on a whiteboard and keep it where you can see it. She couldn’t focus on her work if her pulse was going haywire.
“Hmm?” She wrote things down in her notebook that she wasn’t sure would make sense.
“Why don’t we chat after your segment?” He walked to the door, and she was just about to agree but remembered what she had planned next.
She let out a groan and leaned back in her chair. “I can’t,” she said, meeting his gaze.
“Because?”
She sat straight, stiffened her shoulders, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m going shopping.”
Chris stared at her. He didn’t get it. “Oh.”
“Oh as in, you’d like to join us?”
He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Us?”
She grinned. “Yup. My good friend Stacey and I are going to”—she put her hands up to use air quotes—“find me a single, about-to-be-wooed-off-my-feet wardrobe that will revitalize not only my closet but my life.”
His hand covered his mouth, and she knew he was hiding a grin. Clearing his throat, he dropped his hands, slipped them in his pants pockets.
“Stacey’s words?”
“Obviously. She’s quite enjoying her opportunity to play the gal pal to my real-life heroine of a rom-com. According to her, this means a fashion montage, which I will, apparently, begrudgingly enjoy.”
Chris chuckled. To his credit, he didn’t outright laugh. It was a dignified, reserved, wow-that’s-rough show of humor. “Sounds like she has you covered.”
“She will. As of this afternoon, she’ll have me covered from head to toe.”
Did his eyes just flare? Heat up?
Stacey knocked on the window between them. She’d written on her whiteboard: Need food. Feed me. I’m fading fast. She’d let the word fast trail off the board.
Chris and Everly both laughed, but it was he who answered, “I’ll order something in. We’ve got a few longer days ahead of us.”
When he left, making it so she could breathe properly, Stacey put the whiteboard up again. This time, it read: Cannot wait to go shopping. You excited yet?
Everly picked up her board and jotted down a response. Everyone was part of making this a success, and she wasn’t about to play woe-is-me simply because dining with strangers rated just below drinking milk past the expiration date.
She turned h
er sign and felt okay with what it said; it was partially true. In her own way.
Can’t wait.
Stacey’s grin was huge. She gave Everly a big thumbs-up and then pressed a button to switch from music to talking.
“It’s a happy day here at the station. I want to know what makes you happy. Let’s do a Sun Tweet Fest. Tell me what makes you happy using the hashtag #sunfun. I’ll randomly give out some passes to a local gym to one listener before Ev and I sign off for the day. Come on, people, get us trending.”
Everly shook her head and pulled up Twitter on her computer. If nothing else, Stacey was good at keeping her distracted from her own thoughts.
[10]
The app his oldest brother, Wesley, created was awesome. Chris looked through the data Wes had compiled. Just like other apps, the user swiped through the candidates, but these guys were all ones who’d applied for the chance to date Everly. When their image was pressed, a small bio came up, and there was even a link to a video recording. It wasn’t a requirement, but several of the applicants had done a quick intro clip. Chris had been up late most nights compiling information, sorting through candidates, and triple-checking background reports, criminal record checks, work histories, and anything else he could find out about these guys. The nice part about Wes’s app was it did a background screen before uploading the candidate list. Sort of like a final red flag checker.
In moments like these, it helped that he had connections and could call in favors. It also didn’t hurt that he had his own money to hire an investigator. The station could have covered it, but without his push and personal weight, the process would have taken longer, and he didn’t have the time to waste. Everly would be safe, and his father wouldn’t have time to question any of the process. Tonight, they’d choose the first two.
Putting aside the fact that the whole idea of Everly going out with anyone made him slightly ill, everything was progressing perfectly. His phone rang, interrupting his perusal of bachelor number four. His dad’s name popped onto the screen.
Chris bit back his sigh as he swiped. “Dad.”
“Are you serious about this? I thought you were trying to one-up your sister, but you’re actually going through with it?”
I’m fine. How are you? “People are already invested. We’re selling promo spots quicker than ever. We’ve had 450 entries for possible dates in the last two days.”
There was a slight pause. “Excellent. You took a risk, and you’re lucky—so far—that it’s working. I want you to keep me in the loop, and I mean it this time. Don’t fill me in after the fact. You get those numbers up, and we’ll be able to up my asking price.”
Chris’s breath caught. “What?” The station—the staff—didn’t need to go through another turnover.
“We’ll see. Hard to turn down profit, son. What’s the point if we do?”
Granddad would have a far more concise and impactful answer than Chris could muster at the moment. His father didn’t truly listen to any of them. But you have to try.
Chris stood up, paced back and forth in front of the windows. “Why turn it over if it’s making a profit? It doesn’t hurt to have these holdings.” Any more than it would have hurt to keep the warehouses Noah was attached to. Why do you care? You won’t be here. It didn’t sit right, though. In fact, it made his stomach clench.
Sometimes his father reminded him of a child who couldn’t choose a favorite toy, so he grabbed them all before anyone else could, then decided he didn’t want any of them.
“I’ll think about it. Not really your concern. This goes the way you want it to, you’ll be home in no time doing exactly what you’ve wanted. Now, I want you to take a closer look at the subsidiary companies. I think we should off-load them sooner rather than later.”
Frustration rolled through his body. “You have enough going on that you don’t need to micromanage any of us. I’ve been here for almost twelve months. I’m doing what you asked, including looking into our sister companies. Can you just let me do my job, Dad?”
“Be happy to,” his dad said, laughter in his booming voice. “As long as you don’t mess it up.”
The buzzer signaling a visitor sounded. “I have to go.”
His father’s low rumble sounded in his ear. “Updates. Don’t forget.”
Check the damn website if you want to know what’s going on. “Of course. Good night.”
He pressed End before his father could reply, shoved his phone in his pocket, and raked both hands through his hair. He was tired of pandering to his father’s whims.
Pressing the button by the door, he said hello.
“It’s Everly.”
Two words in her soft voice and his skin felt too tight. They’d arranged for her to come by, check out the software, and choose the first two candidates. Now the idea of having her in his home, his space, didn’t seem like the best way to keep his distance. He buzzed her in, waiting by the door.
“You need to set up a couple of dates of your own,” he mumbled to himself. With someone who didn’t work for him. Preferably in New York, where he’d actually live.
Pulling the door open, he watched her get off the elevator. Her hair was down, soft brown curls framing her face. She wore a pair of jeans, bright blue Converse, and a thin sweater. His heart bounced; the sensation surprising him.
Everly held up a brown paper bag. “I brought payback,” she said, coming into his apartment.
As she walked by him, he inhaled deeply, catching the sweet, flowery scent of her hair. Your whole place is going to smell like Everly.
He shut the door behind her. “You didn’t need to pay me back,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. Pull yourself together. You’ve never crossed a line or led a woman on. You haven’t even told her you’re moving across the country in six months. Stick to the plan. The ultimate goal. This contest is going to be the proof Dad needs that you’re ready to move forward.
All good reminders that shifted his focus, realigned his priorities. “What are you paying me back for, anyway?” He couldn’t think of anything he’d done for her.
“You brought me chocolate pie. That definitely deserves payback.” She stood by the door, glancing beyond the entryway. “Nice place.”
Maybe don’t stand here just staring at her?
Chris smiled. “Thanks. Come on in.”
He gestured toward the kitchen, and Everly set the bag on the counter before pulling out two take-out dessert containers.
“I brought two,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder.
“Pies?”
Turning back to her task, her hair fell forward, and he got stuck staring at the graceful curve of her back and neck.
“Nope. You brought me your favorite. It’s your turn to taste mine.”
Swallowing down his groan was painful. She turned and handed over one of the containers. Their gazes held, and he forgot to move, to take the offering. To breathe.
“Your life is about to change irrevocably. Do you understand that?”
His throat went dry. “Pardon?”
Everly grinned, and his stomach twisted in the most delightful way. “Once you’ve had my friend Tara’s cannoli, you’ll never be the same. They are the best.”
Pulled back into the moment by his New York roots, he eyed the container skeptically. “You know I’m from New York, right?”
She nodded, her lips flattening. “I try not to hold it against you, though.”
A laugh burst from his chest, and he took the box and fork she handed him. “Let’s go sit in the living room.”
They sat down with almost a cushion between them, angled toward each other, and took the lid off their desserts. Before she could dig in, he plucked the fork from her fingers.
“Rookie,” he said, shaking his head as he set both of their forks on his coffee table.
Everly laughed, arched one brow in curiosity laced with challenge. Chris picked up the rolled dessert, the scent of lemon filling his nostrils and making his
stomach growl.
“You have a lot to live up to, little cannoli,” he said, making her laugh like he’d hoped to. He could get high on Everly’s laugh. He bit in, enjoying the sugared crunch followed by the delicious mix of lemon and white chocolate flavors on his tongue.
Everly straightened her shoulders and sent him a smug look. “Well?”
All he could manage was, “Mmmm.” He finished it in three bites and wanted another. When he eyed hers, she laughed and pulled the box to her side.
“Not likely, pal,” she said through laughter.
Pal. Friends. They could be that. It was a hell of a lot better than nothing. Keep it light. Easy. As the youngest of four kids, he had an arsenal of puppy-dog expressions. Leaning forward, he gave Everly one that always worked on Ari.
Everly leaned back even more, her laughter escalating. “Oh my. Does that look actually work on anyone?”
Pretending to sulk as he straightened in his seat, he rested one arm along the back of the couch. “My sister. Well, it used to. Not much works on her now.”
Everly picked up her cannoli and brought it to her lips, and all the humor fled from Chris’s being. She was sexy without even trying. When she took her bite, a little bit of the cream filling remained on her cheek. He pointed to it, wanting to swipe his thumb across the spot more than he wanted another dessert.
Laughing, she went from sexy to sweet in seconds. “Oops,” she said, picking up a napkin. She whisked the spot away and took another bite. She had one-third left when she looked at him through lowered lashes. She held it out to him.
“For real?”
“Yeah. I have a hookup. I can get more.”
Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. Maybe it short-circuited. What else would account for the fact that instead of taking it from her hand with his fingers, he leaned in and opened his mouth. Her brain must have been on the fritz, too, because despite her slight inhalation of a breath, she brought the pastry to his lips, feeding it to him. Their gazes were loaded missiles locked on one another, ready to detonate. His peripheral vision narrowed and his hand came up to loosely circle her wrist. It was Everly who touched her index finger to his mouth, to his tongue. Jesus. She tastes better than the damn cannoli.
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