If I wasn’t watching, I might’ve missed the way Cade’s smile dimmed imperceptibly, as if a shadow crossed his face for only a moment before shining brightly again.
“Plus—”
“How do you like being back in North Carolina?” My voice cracks from being silent for so long, but I cut Trevor off.
Eight eyes slowly turn to me, but the room spins when I meet surprised hazels. I blame the sudden dizzy spell on the PCOS.
“It’s been really nice.” Cade’s throat bobs. “Leaving the people I care about wasn’t easy, so I’m happy to see them again. All of them.”
I can barely contain my groan at his poorly hidden attempt to say he cared about me. If he actually cared, he would’ve come home. Or at least he would’ve talked to me and explained why he didn’t come back.
“Speaking of CLU!” Winston points at me. “Turner finished her MBA last week and got another CLU diploma. We’re so proud of her. Turner, tell Cade a little about what you do for Permian.”
I’d rather not, but I’ve got this script memorized. “I’m a junior agent and manage everything from contracts and negotiations to marketing and endorsements for my five clients. I do support work for several other clients, and have certifications in soccer, basketball, and baseball. I also work with a tennis star.”
“Real jack-of-all-trades,” Winston beams.
Cade’s smile splits wide. “Wow. That’s amazing, Shay ba—” Those stupid, perfect lips roll, and he goes quiet, but it’s too late. My cheeks are already lit with fire. He almost used my old nickname in front of my coworker, supervisor, and CEO.
“So, now that we’re relaxed, let’s talk about your contract,” Winston jumps in, and I send him a silent thanks.
This is where I thrive. Work is safe. Something that not even Cade Owens can derail. Since he’s Trevor’s new client, I’ll be his go-to person for day-to-day operations like I am for Trevor’s other clients. The thought makes my neck itch, and I reach for my glass of water. I’ll be forced to talk to the man who broke my heart. At least twice a week.
Could things be worse?
“And Turner will be your agent.”
The cup slips out of my grip and clatters onto the table, sending a wave of water across the gleaming surface. Embarrassment burns the back of my eyes as I accept the box of tissues that Andy slides to me. As I mop up my mess, I try to wrap my head around that bombshell.
Tossing the tissues into a trash can, I clear my throat. “Me?”
The blood vessel I named Chad in Trevor’s forehead throbs as he straightens in his seat. “Yes, you. He actually requested you personally, Turner. Says you two havehistory.”
His accusatory tone makes me bristle, but I don’t react. No one knows about our almost-relationship outside of our inner circle. Cade’s mom and Cade’s mentor from high school know too, but I trust them with the secret. Trevor knows nothing at all.
“We went to college together,” is all I manage. Not the whole truth, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of learning about my personal life. “But what about my exception for Garrett?”
Noticing Cade’s confusion, Winston faces him. “Junior agents at Permian are only allowed to have five clients, but Shay’s a bit of a superstar around here. She received an exception for a client she’s hoping to sign.”
“And Cade would make seven if Garrett says yes,” I say, hoping Winston understands this would be a super exception. One that clearly makes Andy uncomfortable.
Out of the four junior agents—me, Andy, Kyle, and Jonah—Andy has the fewest clients with two. Kyle and Jonah each have three.
“I have no problem with you having seven clients if Garrett chooses you. And Cade requested you, so who am I to reject that?”
“Wait,” Trevor says. “Their history isn’t a problem?”
Winston opens the manila folder. “Nope. Now, let’s sign a contr—” Chirping birds cut him off, and he pulls a phone from his suit jacket. “Hey, honey. I’m in a mee—” He stands. “Recess. Fifteen.”
His exit prompts Trevor to stand next, mumbling about another donut and a break. Andy, ever the dutiful minion, follows. I squeeze my eyes shut as they shuffle toward the door and count down from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
It’s a bad dream. When I get to one, I’ll wake up in my bed.
Seven. Six. Five.
I’ll call Mallory, and she’ll organize a girls’ night.
