Whatever game Jesse is playing, I’m not going to let it get in the way of doing my job. I’m determined to make a good first impression on my new co-workers, so when Becca from the design team asks me to sit in on a concept review meeting for the spring campaign, I jump at the chance. This will give me a glimpse into how Cove’s marketing magic actually happens. I can use the time to get my bearings and prove to myself that I won’t allow Jesse Winters to rattle me.
The shared workspace is already buzzing when I get there. Becca, a Black woman who looks to be in her forties, waves me over to the long table by the windows, which is covered in product mock-ups and color samples. “We’re reviewing the ad copy,” she says, scooting her chair to make room. “Jesse should be here any minute.”
I nod, pretending that doesn’t send my pulse sprinting, and start unpacking my laptop.
Becca gestures toward the others around the table as she shuffles through a stack of mock-ups. “Madeline, this is Marco—our numbers guy and resident espresso snob—and that’s Tasha from copy. Guys, meet Madeline.”
Marco looks up from his tablet and grins. “Welcome to the madness. Don’t let Becca fool you, she’s the glue who keeps this whole team together.”
Becca rolls her eyes. “I just try to keep everyone from turning the campaign calendar into a nightmare. ‘Try’ being the key word. Marco just exaggerates.”
“Me? Exaggerate? Never.” Marco says feigning offence.
Tasha waves from across the table, her messy bun barely hanging on. “Ignore them both. They occasionally squabble like an old married couple, but they’re basically best friends. They finish each other’s sentences. It’s like they share the same brain.”
I smile, already liking them. The vibe is easy and familiar, the kind of office energy that makes you want to be a part of it.
I notice their eyes shift to the space behind me and I stiffen slightly, knowing exactly what—or who—they’re looking at.
Jesse moves through the room with the kind of easy confidence that draws attention without even trying. His polo shirt fits him like it was tailored to him, the material stretching perfectly across his shoulders, sleeves hugging the curve of his biceps. When he sets his laptop on the table, the muscles in his forearm flex, strong and smooth. It’s the kind of detail I wish I hadn’t noticed but it would be impossible not to. It’s…obscene, to put it mildly. Whoever decided it was acceptable for him to show up to work looking like this clearly doesn’t value productivity.
“Hi everyone,” Jesse says, sitting across from me, his voice warm and smooth.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Becca says, handing him a folder. She launches into her presentation, highlighting the new imagery and taglines, and I try to focus—really try—but everytime Jesse speaks or leans in to look closer at the mock-ups, the air around us seems to tighten just a little.
Once the meeting wraps up, Becca and Marco gather their notes. “We’ll get started on the changes,” Becca says as they head for the door. Tasha grabs her empty coffee mug, and suddenly the table that felt crowded and buzzing with conversation a moment ago is silent.
I was asked to finish some edits on the campaign brief before Ford reviews it tomorrow, so I stay where I am, plugging in my laptop and opening the document. When Jesse doesn’t move, I pretend not to notice, reminding myself that I’m not about to let a little weirdness get in the way of doing my job.
“I hope you don’t mind me working here with you,” he says finally, his voice even, gaze fixed on the screen in front of him. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“It’s not a problem,” I manage, surprised at how steady I sound considering the way my pulse is racing now that we’re alone at the table. “It’s fine by me, as long as it’s okay with you.”
My reply comes out professional and polite, but there’s a slight chill in my tone and I can see that he picks up on it. I can tell by the way one corner of his mouth lifts, slow and knowing, like he’s trying not to give too much away.
He remembers me. I don’t know how I can be so sure about it, but I am. Whatever this is—acting like he doesn’t recognize me, like our paths never crossed before today—it’s all an act. I just can’t figure out why.
What I do know is that Jesse is good at pretending. I saw firsthand last week how good he can be at putting on a show. And I hate that it bothers me as much as it does. Maybe it’s because no matter how hard I try, the memory of him leaning into me, smiling like he was actually interested in me, won’t fade. The truth is, he had more of an effect on me than I did on him. To him, I was a moment. A blip. Just a woman he talked to before the next one came along. I, on the otherhand, haven’t been able to get him out of my head since that night.
“Absolutely.” He glances at his phone before setting it down. “Wouldn’t dream of getting in your way.”
My fingers tighten around the pen I’m holding. “Good,” I say, a little sharper than I mean to. “I need to finish this for tomorrow.”
He glances up at that, brows lifting slightly. “Noted,” he says, quieter now, like he’s testing the temperature of my mood. “My next call got canceled, so I figure I might as well catch up on a few things while I’ve got a quiet moment.”
I nod, pretending to focus on my laptop. “Sounds like you don’t get many of those. Quiet moments, I mean.”
He laughs. “They are rare. Cove’s gotten bigger than any of us expected. Half my day is spent putting out fires that didn’t exist five minutes ago.”
“Well,” I say, keeping my tone even, “it’s impressive. You’ve built something massive. Cove is everywhere. It seems like it’s taken over the world.”
His mouth curves, slow and sure. “Not the entire world,” he says, his tone half-joking.
“Got it. Ambitious.”
“Comes with the territory,” he says, leaning back, stretching an arm along the back of the empty chair beside him.
I nod, and a beat of silence extends between us. I clear my throat, just to break it. “I should get back to work.”
