“Grandma Jean is not invited.”
“JoJo.”
“Mother.”
I reach my car and unlock it, eyeing the boxes of samples in the backseat. My mind is at work again, reviewing everything I need to accomplish this afternoon.
“I gotta go, Mom.”
“Fine, but one more thing. Would you mind raising the price of your purses online? I’m interested in gifting one to Georgie Halstead, but I justknowshe’s going to look up how much I spent, and frankly, it won’t be enough.”
“No. Try Chloé.”
“This is what I get for supporting your endeavors!”
“Give Dad kisses for me.”
“Wait!”
I roll my eyes, strapping in. “Yes?”
There’s a pause as I pull back onto Guadalupe Street. “You okay, JoJo?”
I grip the steering wheel. “Fine. Just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”
She sighs. “I’m going to squeeze you extra tight when you’re in Nashville for Camila’s bachelorette.”
“That’ll be a busy weekend,” I say.
“You’ll make the time for your parents.”
I smile softly. “I will.”
We hang up, and I pull my AirPods out of my ears. What is itabout talking to my mother that’s a simultaneous choke hold and a breath of fresh air? I overcorrectedso hardtrying to differentiate myself from her that I wound up the CEO of my own fashion brand. But in carefully measured doses, I adore her, and in some ways, Harriet Davis is my idol.
Back in the office, I head straight for the boardroom. The Carlisle guys have vanished at this point, but Will is still there with Derrick, their heads bent low over paperwork with our company lawyer, Ilya.
“Sorry about that,” I say, like I was gone for three minutes rather than fifty-seven.
Will stands again. His eyes rove over me. “Hey,” he says, his voice oddly warm.
“Hi.”
Derrick stands, too. “We’ve ironed out the details, Josie. You picked an impressive young man as a business partner. I wasn’t sure about the impulsivity of this, but Mr. Grant has sold me already.”
Will’s face reveals nothing, but he rubs his neck, uncomfortable with the compliment—his tell. I remember it from before. He’d always rub his neck aroundme.
“Great!” I chime in, my voice shrill. Somehow, I knew Will would win over Derrick without breaking a sweat. “And the contracts?”
“All taken care of,” Ilya confirms, stacking his documents.
“We’ll let you two talk.” Derrick and Ilya head for the door. Derrick calls over his shoulder, “Maybe the three of us could get dinner one night this week before I head back to California.”
“Anytime,” Will says. He fiddles with the collar of his—my—Revenant’s—shirt while his eyes track the others leaving the room. Only once the door closes behind them does he whip his head back and settle his full attention on me.
I let my focus linger over the shape of his shoulders beneath that crisp white shirt, the way his smooth wrists peek out from eachcuff. The thicker material of the fabric glides over the planes of his chest and stomach, and when Will slips his hands into his pockets, I track that, too.
“You’re wearing it well,” I say. “How is the feel?”
