It doesn’t matter. Who cares if I’m not liked, as long as I’m successful.
It’s all business.
Standing, I grab my bag and shove the budget inside before turning the corner to head back to my office. Only to take one step before slamming face first into... a chest, I guess?
And I mean, I really slam into it. So embarrassingly hard that I practically bounce off it.
“Oh my fuck,” I grunt out, taking a step back to balance myself, only to find that the arm wrapped around my waist is what’s keeping me steady. I grab onto the forearm to give myself even more stability.
It’s a nice forearm.
“Whoa, Reese. I’ve got you.”
I’m really hoping this head injury has me hearing things because, unfortunately, without a shadow of a doubt, I know that voice.
Blinking a few times, I attempt to clear the image away of what I’m staring at right now.WhoI’m staring at right now.
“Are you okay?” Emmett asks.
More blinking. All it does is completely clear my vision to find myemployeetowering over me, holding me steady on my feet.
Emmett Montgomery is a massive six-four former MLB catcher who apparently still has all his athletic muscle. Probably more than he did when he was playing in his twenties.
And I’m not a small woman by any means. Five foot-seven and living somewhere between a size sixteen and eighteen depending on the day. But something tells me this guy could throw me around, no problem.
Okay. That was definitely the head injury talking.
“Reese,” he repeats, chin dipped to make himself eye level with me. “Are you okay?”
He’s got brown eyes. They’re shaded by his baseball hat, but they’re warm and concerned and that soft expression he’s got right now is probably how he always gets exactly what he wants.
Not today, Satan.
Reaching behind me, I remove his hand from my waist and take a healthy step back, giving us distance. “My head is fine. Thank you.”
“I’m not talking about your head. Areyouokay? You seem off. Like something is bothering you.”
Way too perceptive, this one. I’ll have to remember that.
Straightening my spine, I tuck my short hair behind both ears and watch as his attention traces the stack of gold earrings up the ridges of them.
“The only thingbothering me,” I say, bringing his attention back to my face, “is thatyoustill haven’t let one of your video coaches go.”
He scoffs a laugh. “I see your feelings toward me didn’t soften any with that hit.”
“Why haven’t you done it yet?”
“Because I already told you I’m not going to.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You have until the end of the week to make a decision, or I’ll decide for you.”
“Reese—”
“It’s not up for discussion, Emmett.”
We stand there, squaring off, neither of us backing down from our position. And just as I assumed, he seems to forget that he’s working forme, not the other way around.
His jaw hardens, but then he begins chewing his gum to hide how tense he is, how angry he is with me for forcing him to do this.
