Page 18 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
Last night, I’d been right. Things were changing. I simply never would have guessed it would include sharing a smile with Beck.
Beck and I got to the office elevator at the same time and rode up in an awkward silence. Why was it that I constantly found myself in tight quarters with Mr. Beckett A? And now that I knew what he was hiding under that button down . . . The doors dinged, and I stalked out quickly, ready to put distance between me and those pectorals.
Then I realized we were headed to the same place—a huddle room with Anna to discuss the changes we needed to make based on Frank’s request.
When I’d relayed the meeting to Anna, she’d been furious and cleared her schedule to make this task priority number one. She didn’t want me to have to try and untangle this mess on my own, which was one of a million reasons why I dreaded her leaving. Who else would have my back like Anna? The rest of the team would watch me drown in work and throw another file folder at me instead of a life preserver.
Except for Beck. He had offered to help. Though, one could argue he’d been the one to get us into this mess by not having my portion of the meeting notes in the minutes. I’d tried to let him off the hook—told him Anna and I would knock it out, but he’d been insistent on helping. Besides, Anna thought it would be a good idea for him to attend since he’d been shadowing her anyway.
Anna looked up as we entered. Her eyes played ping-pong between us. “Is it raining outside?” I scrunched my brows, not sure why she was asking that. “You both have wet hair,” she explained.
I scrunched the damp tips. Flustered after my swim, I barely had enough time to shower, let alone finish drying my hair. “Turns out Beckett here is a swimmer. I found him in my lane this morning.”
Her lips pursed to an oh as Beck and I took seats on opposite sides of the table.
“Again, my apologies, Lane. I had no idea it was taken.”
“Does that mean you won’t be in my lane tomorrow?”
“No.” He flashed a smile. “So, I extend my apologies in advance.” So cheeky.
“Apology not accepted,” I said, straightening some copy paper left on the table.
“Your last name suits you since you guard the lanes of Power Gym so well.”
“Apparently not well enough,” I muttered.
“Oh-kay,” Anna loudly interjected. “Let’s review the new parameters we are working with.”
I happily obliged. I could be professional. Even with Beck, Senior-level Asshole.
After thirty minutes of working through the system, that theory was being tested by fire.
“What if we did this?” I said, sharing my screen with the others.
“But the system has what? Millions of orders? The customer will have to wait forever to search for an item. It’s not user-friendly,” Beck said.
And damn it. He was right. I’d been so focused on the in-house use that I hadn’t even considered the customer’s side, but it would be an issue. Beck might actually prove to be . . . competent. But I willed my expression to remain flat.
I tilted my head. “What if we schedule a job to store an index with header-level information in our own database? It will allow a quicker search of the orders themselves without going outside the ERP system.”
“That—” I could see the spark in his eyes, an argument on his tongue. Then he stopped, really sampling my words. “Isn’t a half-bad idea.”
“Don’t look so surprised, Beckett.” He glared at how I weaponized his full first name, and I gave an overbearing smile, complete with a crinkled nose.
“Okay,” Anna said tentatively, looking between us like she might have to jump up and play referee at any moment. “That will probably work. But we’ll need to get some real-time data on this, make sure it is functional.”
Beck and I nodded. We could at least agree with Anna.
“I’ll get started on that,” Beck offered, closing his laptop.
We watched him go. When the door closed, Anna looked at me pointedly. When I didn’t offer anything, she said, “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”
“What do you want me to say, Anna? He’s insufferable. He’s been a thorn in my side ever since he pranced in here and took my promotion.”
She gave me a long, assessing look. “You know I’m always on your side, and you should have gotten the promotion. Hands down,” she began in a gentle voice, which immediately clued me in that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say next. “But, and don’t hate me, he’s been really helpful to me.”
I gasped. “Traitor.”
