Page 94 of Bridesmaid Undercover
“Oddly, I find that fair.”
“I’m glad that you do,” I say.
“How about this,” he says as he levels with me. “I’ll tell you my after-work routine if you tell me who you’re cuddling into at night.”
“With no judgment,” I add.
“With no judgment,” he agrees.
“Fine, but you have to promise you won’t tell your sister. I still want her to think I’m a consummate professional, someone she can trust in partnering up with in business and not some overgrown toddler who still snuggles into a stuffie at night.”
A smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. “Promise.”
“Okay, deal, but you go first,” I say.
He nods. “Well, depends on where I am. If I’m out at the farm, I usually don’t get back to the house until late because I really like walking up and down the rows of almond trees. It’s soothing to me. So when I do get back to the house, it’s a quick dinner and show for me before I’m down for the night.”
“Seems pretty basic.”
“That’s my life, basic as it comes. And when I’m here in the city, I leave the office as soon as I can, sometimes I take emails home with me, but try to avoid it. I hit up the gym in my building, and depending on my mood, I’ll either walk to one of the nearby restaurants in my neighborhood, or I’ll order something. Then finish the night with a show and then bed.”
“Huh, I half expected you to tell me you were going to some rich man’s smoking club after work where you gab about your day.”
“Do you really think I would be here making garlands if I was part of a smoking club?”
“True,” I say. “A smoking club member would be far more into himself, and despite the clean shave around your beard and your masculine scent, I’d say you’re not really that into yourself.”
“If I weren’t part of the corporate world, I’d look a lot different.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, I’d have longer hair. Maybe a longer beard. I wouldn’t be wearing this constricting suit, that’s for damn sure. I’d live in a beanie, flannel, and jeans. Perhaps carry around an axe just for the hell of it. I’d have dirt grooves in my hands from being outside all the damn time, and I’d have the worst farmer’s tan, a tan so bad that when I took off my shirt, people would think I’m still wearing one.”
I chuckle. “Wow, quite the image.” And yes, I would put my hand up to see that gorgeous sight.You can take that shirt off right now if you like, Hardy Hopper. I would not complain at all. Farmer’s tan or not.
“And I wouldn’t have to answer time-sucking emails or attend boring business meetings.”
“Would you consider this a boring business meeting, or responding to my emails as a time suck?”
“Actually, this meetup is a bright spot in my day, and I look forward to your emails, even if they can be somewhat emasculating.”
“They are not emasculating,” I say on a huff. “They speak the truth. If you find that emasculating, that’s your fault. I shall not cater to you because you’re too weak to hear the truth.”
“Damn, don’t you need to scream out a war cry after such a statement?”
“I can if you want,” I say.
He shakes his head, his expression full of mirth. “For the record, I’m never too weak to hear anything you have to tell me.”
“Is that so?” I ask. “Well, in that case?—”
He holds up his hand to stop me. “Just not when I’m down from a rough day.”
I smirk. “Noted.”
He finishes up his garland, and I take it from him to tie it off before starting a new string for him. When he raises a brow, I say, “Did you think you were just making one and getting a free meal out of it? No way, sir. You’re here to work.”
With that, he starts stringing pom-poms again.
