“Tell that to eleven-year-old Este. She had to write a report on the premise of a Faustian bargain before she could watchThe Little Mermaid.”
Beau laughed. Not politely, but full out. And the sound was so rich, something inside me loosened, then tightened all at once. Against my better judgment, I reached for my drink and took a sip.
“Faustian bargain?” he repeated, and I waited for him to stumble, to prove his intelligence was the myopic type—useful only for conquering the tech industry. But instead, he squinted, like he was trying to visualize some textbook. “What was your thesis? Did she make the wrong trade? Or ask for the wrong thing?”
Oh. Oh, no. He’s successful, handsome,andsmart?
And though my logical brainknewhe couldn’t be the guy for me—because there was no guy for me, only Simon and PowerPoint—my body hadn’t gotten the memo.
There was something about Beau—something chemical—that made my pulse kick up and my breath feel uneven.
“She blew it,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “She should have asked for equity. Stock options. Something with appreciating value.”
“You’re funny,” he said, apparently unshaken by the spark of energy that was flattening me.
I can’t be doing this. I can’t be flirting with Beau Walker.
I knew Gemma could feel the buzzy flirtation in the air, too, because she winked at me and took a step back, like she was about to make herself scarce.
“Anyway, I hope I’m not bothering you,” Beau said.
But Iwasbothered—by the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. As he stood there, I wondered what it would feel like to reach out and smooth the soft wrinkle with my thumb.
This is a horror show. I can’t be here.
“I have to go,” I said, almost to myself. And then, “Yep. I’m leaving. I have work to do.”
Beau’s smile faltered.
“You’releaving? Now?” Gemma’s eyes bounced between Beau and me, scrambling for a reason to get me to stay as I reached for my purse and hopped down from my stool. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to ask Beau?” she called, but I had made it halfway to the door.
Fuck. The whole reason I’ve been trying to reach him. The career-changing thing that evaporated from my mind under the heated stare of Beau Walker.
I stopped to dig a business card out of my bag and doubled back to where Beau was standing. “We should talk,” I said with an outstretched hand. “I heard InfoSynth is looking for a buyer. And I think I have the right opportunity.”
Beau took the card, looking down at the lettering before turning his attention back to me. “Redwood?”
My throat felt dry, but I smoothed my skirt and pressed on. “We’re very interested in what you’ve developed. Could be a great opportunity to scale.”
“I’ll call you,” he said.
And then I practically ran for the door. But when I made it out to the street, I allowed myself one parting look over my shoulder. I could say I was trying to make sure Gemma didn’t think me ungrateful for the opportunity, but the uncomfortable truth was I couldn’t resist one more hit of Beau’s easy smile.
Our eyes met. He winked. Fuckingwinked.Effortless. Certain. Like he already knew I wanted to turn around.
I panicked.
That guy’s a poison pill. He could blow up my entire life if he got too close.
To this day, Beau loves to tell the story of the night he first saw me. He remembers it all. The vintage Chanel shift dress I was wearing. The low ponytail. And the way I looked back—my gaze holding for a beat too long—before I disappeared around the corner.
I might have looked sure of myself when I handed him my business card, but as I waited at the valet station on the other side of the building for my car, I couldn’t shake the flush of red in my cheeks.
I shivered a little in the night breeze as the valet pulled up with my car. But when my phone buzzed in my bag with an incoming text from Simon, I reached for it with shaky hands.
Get it together, Este. Jesus.
I dropped into the car, telling myself I needed a reset. Something to draw a line between the way Beau had just made me feel and my real life, and I knew exactly where to find it.
