After wishing her good luck for tonight’s game, I hang up and refocus. Today, I’m welcoming Cade to my team, even though I’d rather eat glass. Still, I’ll be professional. Nothing comes before my job.
Heart be damned.
During my time as an agent, I’ve crossed paths with many gorgeous athletes. Shemar Moore-level sexy, and if I can say no to a man who looks like an old-school Denzel Washington, I can control myself around the man who broke my heart.
“Hi, Shay baby.”
I jolt, banging my knee against the thick table as I take in the man standing in front of me. Cade looks at ease in a sleeveless black tank anddark denim. Damn him and his ability to be hotter than my celebrity crushes.
Empty tables surround us, so nobody heard his very unprofessional nickname for me. But I have to put an end to it. Now.
“Rule number one,” I say. “Don’t call me that.”
A tiny dimple appears in his cheek. “Noted. How about Agent Shay?”
The server appears before I can reject the unimaginative nickname. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Diet Coke, please,” I say.
“Unsweet tea for me,” Cade says.
“Wonderful. Are you ready to order food or do you need more time?”
I already know what I want, and by the look on Cade’s face, he does too. We always researched menus before arriving at the restaurant. It kept us from decision paralysis. I order the Velvet Eggs Benedict, and Cade orders the Lobster and Grits Amore. This place may be a little bit fancier than where I took Holly, but I need to show Cade I’m all business.
Once we’re alone, I hand over the wicker basket. “This is a thank you from Permian. We’re happy you’ve joined our team.”
Cellophane crinkles as Cade digs into the gift. “Hmm. I didn’t realize Permian knew my favorite flavor of Laffy Taffy is banana, or that, while most people know I like sour gummy candy, I prefer sour gummy bears.”
My face flushes. “I made the basket, but it’s from Permian.”
“Well, give the agency my thanks. And thank you,Agent Shay.”
The moment my Diet Coke touches the table, I place the straw between my lips. I could’ve gotten the luxury-gift option Trevor recommended, but that’s not how I roll. Because Holly loves Queen, I found her a Freddie Mercury pin and vintage Queen record. Brett loves mac and cheese and outer space, so I got him boxes of planet-shaped noodles. When I found out Delilah likes silly posters for her apartment, I entered an online bidding war for Beyoncé and Brittney SpearsGot Milk?postersand won. Victoria loves Oreos, so she got a multi-year Oreo subscription. Lionel is picky, so he got a gift card.
Since it’s Cade, it feels personal, but it’s not.
Then he pulls out the last part of his gift, and wary eyes find mine. “Pink sticky notes?”
Every client gets a package, but I wish I hadn’t put them in there for him. It was one of our things. Sticking them to his car’s windshield. Hiding them in his textbooks. BYOB nights. I probably wrote him hundreds of notes, but they’re long gone now. Probably rotting away in landfills.
“Yeah.” I shove the memories away and cough. “For reminders.”
Artificial banana fills my nose as he opens a piece of candy. “You stuck one to my forehead sophomore year at the library. Do you remember what it said?”
“Stop talking,” I say, fighting off the warmth of that day. Our thighs were pressed together because it was the only table I could find.
“Exactly!”
“No. I mean yes, but no. I’m telling you to stop talking. We need to set rules.” Grabbing my personal stack of sticky notes from my purse, I scribbleRulesat the top and underline it twice. “Rule number one: no talking about the past.”
“I thought rule number one is that I can’t call you Shay baby?”
I glare at his stupid smirk. “Fine. Number two is no talking about the past.”
He pauses mid-chew. “Is there a reason we can’t talk about it?”
“You’re joking, right?” Forcing myself to swallow my irritation, I take a drink before answering, “We had over a year to talk and didn’t. Now we’re here. We can’t be those people anymore, and as of today, we’re work partners, which means talking about the past and what we used to be can’t happen.”
