Garrett’s textcomes at 5:59.
Outside. No rush.
I’m still pacing in front of my living room mirror, adjusting my earrings for the sixth time. My closet wasn’t built for a fancy client dinner. It’s built for work chic and impulse farmer’s market rendezvous. Mostly just lounging after work. In my robe.
In the end, I went with my emergency date outfit—soft navy wrap dress, gold hoops, hair down in a wave that only half obeyed my curling iron. I throw on nude heels and grab a beige clutch. Hopefully classic and approachable.
When I step outside, Garrett’s silver car is idling at the curb, sleek and polished. He gets out as I approach and rounds the car to open my door. A perfect gentleman. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to trip on the curb as I slide into the passenger seat.
His car smells like cedarwood and leather. He adjusts the temperature down a degree, then glances at me with a grin. “Thanks again for coming last-minute. These client things arealways more fun with someone else there. And you’re good with people.”
The compliments are kind of freaking me out, if I’m being honest. Especially after last night. I have no idea if he means them or if he’s just saying the right thing at the right moment.
“That’s one way to put it.” I fasten my seatbelt. “I’m good at talking a lot.”
He pulls away from the curb. “Just ask questions. People love talking about themselves.”
I let out a puff of air.Somepeople loved talking about themselves. “Did you have fun at open play?”
Garrett nods. “Yeah, it’s always a good time.”
“You play there a lot?”
He shakes his head. “Not since I moved.”
Ah. So that’s why he had a connection to Smash Point. He used to live closer. “Do you and Calder still play tournaments together?”
“No. I’d be open to it though. He’s still got the shots of a pro even if his shoulder’s not quite back yet.”
Blood rushes in my ears. “Oh, he used to be pro?”
Garrett nods. “Yeah, he was on the PPA circuit. Had a few sponsorships. I didn’t know him back then, but I’ve watched his clips.”
I mentally kick myself. First rule of meeting new people: Google them. How had I missed that? My fingers fidget over the edges of my phone in my clutch.
Outside the window, Denver glows in the amber dusk. Garrett starts talking about a new client, an eco-friendly packaging company that could be a huge account for us. He outlines their sustainability goals, their brand philosophy, their leadership team. I nod at the right times, occasionally tossing in a “That’s smart” or “Oh, I love that.”
Internally, I’m doing a whole different calculus. About my posture and where to put my hands. I want to sound sharp but warm, curious but not overeager. All while wishing I could press pause on the night, slide into the back seat, and look up videos of Calder.
“So, this is kind of a big deal for them?” I ask as we hit a red light.
“Yeah. They just expanded into national retail chains. The dinner’s their way of celebrating, and making sure we’re still the right partner as they scale.”
“So, no pressure.”
He smiles, reaching across the console to squeeze my hand. ”You’ll be perfect.” He doesn’t let go, and something that’s been niggling at me all evening works its way to the surface.
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask Megan. She seems perfect for this kind of thing.” It was true. If I wanted to impress a client, as much as I love myself, she’d be the obvious choice.
His hand twitches. “Megan’s great, but she’s got her own priorities.”
“Oh?”
“No, I just mean she doesn’t work on the client side. When she leaves the office, she’s checked out.”
I frown. “But she organized the pickleball night. Seems like she’s open to some extracurriculars.” I don’t know why I’m arguing with him, but something about what he said rubs me the wrong way.
