Page 53 of Off the Grid

“Good. Great really. We’ll see what their proposal is when it comes across.”

“Thanks for taking that for me.”

“Not a problem.” She points to the various things laid out all around me. “Maybe you should call it a day. Get some sleep.”

“Too much to do.” And there is. I can list ten things off the top of my head right now.

“Considering you’re here before I arrive and still at your desk when I leave, I’m thinking maybe your exhaustion has to do with you working too hard.” She unceremoniously dumps her files on the table with a thud. “Give it a few more weeks and everyone is going to ignore your last name and know you’re here because of what you know and not because your dad’s sitting on the top floor.”

“That’s the hope. Thanks. But today’s lethargy is more due to an obnoxious neighbor with no courtesy.”

“Ugh. That sucks.” She plops down and takes a long sip of her cold brew. “My old flat was like that. Such a nightmare.”

“I’m hoping this was a one-time thing.”

She holds up her crossed fingers and smiles. “I have good news that might help. New shots of the drivers are in. The camera loves both of them so it’s going to make our jobs that much easier.”

“That’s always a bonus.” I stifle another yawn and eye her coffee. I definitely need a caffeine hit myself.

“It is. I already had the team create mock-ups with their photos. Kimberly is picking up the samples and should have them up here in the next thirty minutes. Once you decide and approve, I think we should get them pushed out as soon as possible.”

“Agreed. We’ll prioritize that first. Then I want to go over a list of possible campaign ideas we can begin with little planning or involvement with outside forces so we can get some attention to this team. Some may work. Some may not. You know as well as I do that social media is a crapshoot in getting things to take root.”

“A definite crapshoot.”

We spend the next thirty minutes filling each other in on what we’ve accomplished. When Kimberly delivers the graphics, we switch gears and turn our focus on them. The pros and cons of new photos of the drivers. Andrew is a good-looking man—the classic looks of his Swedish heritage—with blond hair and blue eyes, but the man looks bland when standing next to his teammate. Riggs looks dark, edgy, and dangerous, but that is contrasted against his vibrant smile and piercing eyes.

“Jesus,” Elise murmurs. “The camera loves him.”

I nod, my opinions a weird list of contrasts. The kiss in the bar. The dare card and the hurt it caused. The trying to buy me off in the break room. The conversation in this very conference room where he tried to win me over with his wit and humor. The shock of later that day learning who he was—or rather who his dad was—and not knowing how to respond.

Each one of those interactions brought out a different emotion, a different feeling, and I’m struggling with how to prioritize which ones I should feel when I see him next.

Because seeing him is inevitable. I may have purposely been everywhere he’s not the past few days, but I can’t make that last much longer.

Is he the villain or the hero, Camilla? Or maybe a little of both?

I stare at his image looking back at me and give a resolute nod. “It definitely won’t be hard to push these,” I say.

Ideas I’ve been mulling around start to take form. “I think we need—”

A knock on the open door has both Elise and me looking up. And the image in front of us comes to life in the form of Spencer Riggs standing before us.

Elise sucks in a quick breath beside me.

“Ladies. Good morning.” He meets my eyes and nods before crossing the room and holding his hand out to Elise. “Spencer Riggs. Nice to meet you.”

Elise is frozen in place, eyes wide, smile plastered on. “Hi. Yes. Hello.” She reaches out as he takes her hand, and she slowly melts from the touch. Or at least I notice that she does. “Nice to meet you. We were just studying your package.”

Riggs’s eyes shoot up and he grins. “Well. If that’s what the new marketing campaign is—”

“Oh my God. I mean marketing package.” She points to the pictures as I die of embarrassment for her. “Marketing. Pictures. Not your—you know—that package.” She buries her head in her hands as her cheeks burn pink. “I think I might be dying a slow, painful death right now.”

Riggs reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, unfazed by the fact that she’s clearly crushing on him—and wins points with me for the action. “Don’t you hate it when your mouth betrays you?” he says and looks at me with a lift of his eyebrows as if to imply ours both have in the short time we’ve known each other. “You’re fine. See? I already forgot what you said.”

“I still think death is a better option,” she says but peeks up between her fingers and meets his reassuring gaze. “But thank you.”

He nods and then points to the image I like the best. “That’s the one you should use.”