“No,” Will said. “I’m happy to. I just didn’t want you to think it was anecessity.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Silence. Will still loomed in the doorway.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the week?” he asked finally.
“Today was heavy lifting. Next few days: install inventory plus shipping software, train the team, install corner mirrors. Friday: dry run—see how it all clicks.”
Will nodded. “Okay. And just for the record—eventhisis better than the pink blazer.”
Lizzie looked down at her now-dirty black T-shirt and slacks. “What do you have against pink?” She rummaged in her bag for her protein bar.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It just doesn’t suit you. Like that club didn’t suit you the other night.”
“Is that club your normal scene?” Lizzie asked, unwrapping the bar.
Will chuckled—actually chuckled.“Hardly. I wish I never had to see the inside of one. Hate everything about places like that.”
“Then why go?”
“Because being a Pemberley is more than a last name. Obligations—to shareholders, employees…” Will appeared to be reciting some motto or slogan as he said it.
“Yeah, and you’d sound pretty spoiled complaining that the hardest thing in your life is going to a club once in a while.”
“That’s hardly the hardest,” Will said, voice low. Before Lizzie could press, Ignacio bellowed:
“¡Jefa!” from the end of an aisle.
“Boss?They call youboss?!” Will asked, incredulous. Lizzie shrugged. “They don’t callmeboss, and Iamtheir boss!”
“What can I say? I have that boss energy…” She grinned. Willsmiled back—a real one.
“Fair enough,” he said.
“I’d better go see what’s up. I’ll be right back.”
“No, it’s okay—I have to take this.” His phone rang on cue. Lizzie saluted and spun on her heel.
By 4:30, Lizzie measured that they’d shaved 2 hours off order processing time. Progress was good, but she calculated an extra 30 minutes that wasn’t accounted for.Learning curve or error?
I need café,she thought, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She made her way to the small cafeteria and queued. Ordered acortaditoand apastelito. Turned—and Will was behind her.
“Fuel for the chaos?” he said, sliding a $5 bill across the counter.
“Thanks,boss,” Lizzie said.
“Don’t push it,” Will said, gravel in his voice making it almost sound like a growl. His eyes crinkled a bit, and she thought he was teasing, but something about the tone made his voice feel a little husky, and her stomach tightened a bit.
Lizzie didn’t wait to find out if he had been joking, as she grabbed her treats and headed back to squeeze in a few more fixes.
By 6:00 p.m., she called it. Nothing more today.
Grabbing her blazer, she headed for the door—and saw Will again. He’d changed: slacks, button-up.Sharp.
“Hot date?” Lizzie teased.
Will frowned slightly. “No pink tomorrow.”
