Her cheeks flamed like she was roasting on a spit.
Expecting a growl from Troy, he surprised her by waving a hand at one of the other picnic tables. “Have a seat. How’s your hike going?”
Michaela wanted to scream one word. Nooooo!
Too late. They were already sitting. “It’s going great,” the tall blond said. None of them were about to admit they were breathing hard.
Troy started on the second half of his sandwich, questioning the young men between bites.
It was all she could do not to melt into a puddle of mortification on the picnic bench.
Troy was deft at eliciting answers. This would be how he was with the young people he inspired during his talks—showing interest, putting them at ease.
These guys hailed from all different parts of the country and were now undergrads at Stanford University.
Troy’s smile seemed as bright as the sun overhead. “Stanford. My lovely friend’s alma mater.” He extended a hand toward Michaela.
Thankfully, her mouth was full, and all she had to do was wave.
Naturally, Troy introduced them. “Michaela Killian, and I’m Troy Harrington.”
She expected them all to stare at Troy, the Olympic gold medalist. But instead, the young men were gaping at her.
The tall blond said, “The Michaela Killian? Economics?” Seemingly overcome with excitement, the young man didn’t even introduce himself. None of the boys did.
And Michaela grew flustered. How could he know that? But she politely said, “Yes. A long time ago, though. Ten years.”
A slightly shorter, dark-haired one said, “Michaela Killian. You’re a freaking legend.”
She blushed despite herself. “Why would you say that?”
She felt Troy’s eyes on her, that lady-killer smile of his beaming at her as if he was pleased she was now the center of attention. Confused, all she could say was, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
The dark-haired boy elbowed his blond friend, then pointed at Michaela. “You’re on the wall for academic achievement. Don’t you know that?”
She knew, but it wasn’t something she trotted out willy-nilly. “I’m surprised you even noticed.”
A shorter, skinnier version of the blond young man, maybe a brother, said, “And not just that. You’re legendary for being instrumental in getting the two cofounders of FoodFast together. Without you, we wouldn’t have FoodFast at all.”
“They even taught that in our class, about how to take advantage of a niche no one is filling,” the dark-haired one added.
Fired with a full-body flush, she couldn’t help turning self-deprecating. “Gloria and Ivan would’ve figured it out on their own. I just gave them a push.”
Beside her, Troy snorted. “She’s the billionaire matchmaker. With countless successful ventures under her belt.”
She wanted to pummel him. Because they weren’t countless.
After swallowing the last bite of her sandwich, she said politely, “Thank you for noticing I was on the wall.” Then she stood to gather their trash. There were no trash cans, so she packed it all into her backpack. “Well, good luck to all of you. Stanford is a great school. Enjoy the rest of your hike.”
Grabbing the empty beer bottles, she turned them upside down to let the dregs drip out, then stuffed them into her pack too. As she shouldered it, Troy got to his feet, smiling devilishly as he did the same.
She gave a little finger wave as they headed down the path.
Behind her, Troy chuckled, and when they were out of sight and earshot, she turned on him. “The billionaire matchmaker? Countless ventures under my belt?”
He grinned at her. “You’re a freaking legend, Ms. Killian.”
She blushed all over again, closing her eyes to the delicious sight of him, of those lips that had kissed her and teased her.
