“And that’s exactly the problem,” I shoot back before I can stop myself. “People don’t want perfection, Jesse. They want to feel something.”
He exhales through his nose, slow and measured. “Noted,” he says flatly, pulling the mock-up toward him. “Maybe we’ll run it by Ford.”
“Sounds good,” I reply curtly, annoyed by his sudden shift in tone. He may not like it, but it’s fair and honest feedback. I count to three in my head as Becca clears her throat, trying to reel the room back into the conversation.
“Okay, I think we’ve covered what we need to,” she says. “Jesse will think on the tagline and in the meantime, we all know what we need to do, right? Thanks, everyone.”
The room empties out, but as I gather my laptop and notes I can feel the tension radiating off Jesse beside me. His easy composure has been replaced by something sharper and the easy rhythm we had before the meeting is gone. The silence stretches, the half-finished argument still hanging between us. I push my chair out from the table, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a glance.
“You don’t hold back, do you?” he says finally, leaning back in his chair as he gives me an appraising look.
“Would you prefer if I kept my opinions to myself?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t look at me like I kicked your puppy every time we disagree.”
That makes me stop. “Me?” I ask, incredulous. “You asked for our thoughts and then got annoyed when you heard them. I’m not just looking for ways to disagree with you, Jesse.”
He chuckles. “I can’t decide if you’re fearless or just enjoy arguing with me.”
“Fearless, maybe.” I finally meet his gaze, the challenge in my eyes matching the gleam in his. “But I wouldn’t lose sleep overthinking it. I’m just here to do the job you hired me to do.”
His mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a grin. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
The tension between us hums, alive and unspoken. I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn back toward the door, desperate to end whatever this is, to put some space between us.
And then he says, “Hey—about that event you mentioned. The thing honoring your dad?”
“What about it?”
He shrugs, so casually it almost feels rehearsed. “If you need a few days off, you can work remote. And if you need someone to go with you, I don’t mind. I’ve got an expensive suit and a high tolerance for champagne and small talk.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re offering to be my plus one at what is guaranteed to be one of the most nauseating social events of the year?”
“Why not?” he says easily. “We can make a game out of it—guess who spent the most money on their outfit, rate the speeches, make bets on which socialite will slip her number to the bartender half her age.”
“Why would you want to come with me?”
“For the free drinks,” he says, that damn grin making another appearance. “Also, I think you’ll find I’m charming company.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter under my breath before I can stop myself.
“Harsh,” he says, feigning a wince. “I’m offering moral support here.”
“Jesse, we’ve already proven we can barely make it through a meeting without finding something to argue about. And I’d prefer not to lose my job once you’ve met my family and realize why I moved three hours away from them.”
Jesse’s mouth curves. He’s clearly finding this very amusing. “I can handle your family, Madeline.”
I huff out a laugh. “Don’t be so sure. You’ve never met my mother.”
“Piece of cake,” he says, leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. He’s the picture of infuriating calm. “Consider it part of my ongoing effort to prove I’m not the guy you think I am.”
I fight the ridiculous flutter that rises in my chest. “Not happening,” I say, shaking my head. “And for the record, it would take a lot more than fake charm to change my mind.”
He snaps the lid of his laptop shut and stands, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “Guess I’ll just have to find another way, then.”
“Don’t bother,” I toss over my shoulder, heading for the door before he can see the smile threatening to give me away.
Behind me, I hear the quiet rustle of paper. When I glance back, I see him sliding one of my color-coded sticky notes from the table into his pocket, his low laugh chasing me all the way down the hall.
