Page 5 of Bridesmaid By Chance
He glances my way briefly, barely giving me a glimpse of those sultry eyes of his. “Thanks, Sloane.”
He sits up again and takes a sip of his juice. When he sets it back down, he stares back at his computer. “This possible purchase is important. It could grant us access to low-income housing in the UK, an expansion that would impress the Cane brothers as it’s something they’ve been looking to do.”
“It seemed like a pretty big deal when I was writing up the notes for you, but I think you can make it happen. Mr. Wimbach and you definitely have something in common.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“You both went to Stanford.”
“Did he?” Hudson asks, turning toward me again, but this time, it’s not just his head. He turns his whole body. His deliciously firm body.
“He did. He graduated a few years before you, but you were both Cardinals and he’s a pretty big donor, which means he loves his college more than the average student. I think that’s something you can easily play off. Not to mention, he’s recently engaged. Your sister just got married in Bora Bora, so you can bond over that. Maybe discuss your sister’s business while you’re at it, pop in the idea that she could bring her vacation rental brand over to the UK.”
Haisley started her own business a few years ago. Separating herself from her father and Hopper Industries earlier, she took some money from her trust fund and purchased a house in Nashville, which she completely gutted and renovated, then themed the whole house around Dolly Parton. She took the revenue from that house—because who doesn’twant to vacation with Dolly?—and bought a house here in San Francisco, which she decorated based on the movieClueless.
Hudson scratches the side of his cheek. “You know, that’s not that bad of an idea.”
I want to say that’s a compliment, but why did he have to say it like that? As if he expected me to have a bad idea, but I surprised him with a good one?
“Thanks,” I say, even though I still feel the slight burn of his comment. I might be much younger than him, but I’m also very perceptive; he might not know it yet, but I’m a good addition to his team.
“Okay. I’m going to get some work done before we leave.”
“We?” I ask, surprised. “Beforeweleave?”
“Yeah,” he says, looking at me again, this time his brow full of confusion. “You’re coming with me.”
“Oh. I’ve never come with you to meetings outside the office before.”
“This is an important one. I’ll need you to take notes. Is that okay?” He raises his brow at me.
“Sure,” I say. “Not a problem at all.” I glance down at my flouncy skirt and heels and then back at him. “Um, is what I’m wearing okay?”
His eyes travel down my legs, heating me up before they travel to my face. He clears his throat and turns away from me, focusing entirely on his computer. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
Fine?
Just fine?
I mean, not that he would compliment what I’m wearing, the man barely even looks at me, but I thought my outfit today was better than fine.
I worked hard on putting it together. I changed at least three times.
My lush skirt I found at the thrift store—which, by the way, shopping at the thrift store here in San Francisco, you can find some amazing designer clothing for so cheap. My maroon blouse I got on Poshmarkfor twelve dollars along with these matching maroon heels. I know how to make dollars stretch. There were several times growing up when we didn’t have money for new shoes or coats, and people treat you different when they see your coat sleeves are too short or that your tennis shoes have soles that were obviously glued to last a bit longer. I’m not saying it’s right, but we do live in a world where appearance matters more than it should. It’s why I care so much about playing the part while I’m in the office. At most, I think I paid thirty dollars for this whole outfit, and when I was walking out of the house today, even Stacey, my twin sister, told me I looked like an executive—but that the skirt was too short.
Too short was also the perfect answer.
Hence why I asked Hudson about my outfit.
This is one of those instances where I slap on a smile and keep my mouth shut. If I wasn’t trying to be professional and hold back, I’d tell Hudson to look again because I’m more than just fine.
He’s a stoic man. I really shouldn’t expect anything more from him.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go work on some emails. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” he says with a nod, his eyes fixed on his computer.
I turn away from him and work my way out of his office, making sure to shut the door behind me, and then straight to my desk, where I take a seat and scoot my chair in.
