And I thought about the way Jameson was looking at me right now—not like I was the junior employee who made engaging social media reels, but like I might actually be able to save his company.
“I’m available,” I heard myself say.
Something flickered across his face. Relief, maybe. Or surprise that I’d said yes.
“Good.” He pulled out his phone, already typing. “I’ll have my assistant book everything. We leave tonight. Pack for two days. Business casual, but comfortable. You’ll be on your feet a lot.”
“Tonight?” My voice came out higher than intended.
“Problem?”
Yes. No. Maybe?
“No problem,” I said, standing up on legs that felt slightly unstable. “What time should I be at the airport?”
“I’ll send a car to pick you up at five. We’ll go straight to the airport from your place.” He glanced up from his phone, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw the hint of a smile. “Thank you, Sutton. I think this might actually work.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Sutton?”
I turned back.
“The Christmas campaign wasn’t bad,” he said. “The strategy was actually solid. We just didn’t have the right audience yet. You were marketing to people who were already looking for us. This way, we find the people who don’t know they need us.”
The compliment hit me square in the chest, warming me from the inside out.
“Thank you,” I managed.
I walked out of that conference room trying to look calm and professional, like I made last-minute business trips with billionaire CEOs all the time.
I made it to the elevator.
I made it down to the lobby.
I made it to my car in the parking garage.
And then I let out a squeal that probably scared every pigeon in a three-block radius.
I was going to Utah. With Jameson McKnight. To save his company. I had minutes to pack, mentally prepare, and figure out how to be the kind of person who deserved to be on this trip.
No pressure.
I pulled out my phone and texted my roommate Gabriella.Emergency. Need your help packing. Also, I think I’m going on a business trip with my boss, and I’m trying very hard not to overthink what this means.
Her response came back immediately.OMG. Get home now. I need details.
I grinned, put the car in gear, and headed home. Along the way, I tried to ignore the butterflies doing loop-de-loops in my stomach and the voice in my head reminding me that this was business, just business, and I absolutely could not develop a crush on my emotionally unavailable billionaire boss.
Absolutely not. Even if he did have really nice forearms.
Focus, Sutton.
I had two hours to pack.
And maybe, just maybe, this was the chance I’d been waiting for to prove I was more than just pretty pictures on a screen.
2
