Page 7 of The Sweetness of Life

I HATE HIM.

And I don’t hate anyone.

Watching him walk away without even so much as a nod goodbye causes every cell in my body to go up in flames. He’s dismissing me as if I’m not even here. I swear I’ve never met anyone so rude! He’s lucky I don’t take my very pointy-heeled shoe off and chuck it at his head . . . his gorgeous head. That’s what makes this so much worse—I’ve also never met a man as good-looking as he is.

When Zach walked into the room with the other guy, I was struck speechless. At the event, he was wearing a tuxedo, which can make anyone seem more appealing. Here on a regular Monday morning, he’s dressed down, wearing dark blue jeans that look worn and soft, a perfectly fitted gray T-shirt with the winery logo stamped across the front, and a pair of trendy running shoes. He was also holding a football. In my haste and anxiety on the drive here, I’d briefly forgotten he was a former football player, but everything about his tall, muscular build screams the part.

Closing my eyes, the excitement about being selected for this project falters, and disappointment and embarrassment fill me. I’m so out of my element. I feel stupid even being here, and I don’t understand what it is about him that causes this extreme, visceral reaction in me. All it took was one look and his expression shifted from playful with his friend to a scowl at me. Maybe I should have declined the project.

No.

No, that’s ludicrous. I should not have. Aside from my father, he’s the only person who has ever made me feel like less than who I am, and I refuse to put up with that—job or no job. Squashing the unwanted feelings, I remind myself that this is my project. My. Project. I was chosen for this and I’m going to write a damn good article.

“Ms. Leigh?”

My back straightens as the girl standing across from me raises her hand in a small wave. I turn to face her, and she’s frowning at me.

“Yes?” I frown back, feeling every bit of what that expression means: angry, sad, and disappointed. She has no idea how much he makes me want to run out the door and never look back, but I won’t. I won’t because this project puts me one step closer to my dream, a dream that means more to me than anything.

“If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your cottage.”

Cottage—well, at least that sounds nice. I’m extremely relieved to hear I’m not staying in the same house with him. God, I can’t even imagine. The thought of randomly running into him on the way to the bathroom makes my stomach clench.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

Bending down to pick up my bag, I spot the other guy in the room studying me. It’s bad enough I have to spend two weeks here working with that asshole who hates me; I don’t want the rest of the staff to hate me, too. So, after I sling the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I walk over to him and hold out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Shelby.” His eyes are unreadable, but he slips his hand into mine and shakes it. He’s handsome in a young Harry Connick Jr. kind of way.

“I gathered that. I’m Kyle. I oversee general and wholesale distribution for Mr. Wolff, and that’s Michelle. She runs front-end operations.” I glance over, and she gives me a strained smile.

I take a step back and release a deep sigh. Flickers of my interaction with Zach and the words I said to him increase my humiliation. I understand their skepticism. I would be wary of me, too. I may always try to be kind and courteous, but I was as bad as Zach was in our little exchange.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about . . . that.” I look between him and Michelle. “It must have sounded pretty bad.” Heat climbs up my neck and into my cheeks. I really don’t know what came over me, and now that the anger has dulled, I’m thoroughly embarrassed.

“I’m not actually sure what that really was,” he says, pointing between the door Zach left through and me. He looks concerned and confused, but really, I find that hard to believe.

I don’t know why I thought Zach would be civil when I got here. Maybe because he agreed to the project knowing I would be his partner on it, or maybe because we have a mutual friend, I don’t know, but I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and really hoping that night last fall was a fluke. Apparently, it wasn’t.

How is it possible he didn’t know it was me coming today? He. Didn’t. Know. I guess he just thought so little of me before he forgot my name.

Forgettable.

“It is what it is,” I say, shrugging and trying to release the stress that’s built up in my shoulders. “I’m here to do the assignment. I’ll stay in the kitchen and out of the way, and then I’ll be gone.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under their intense gazes, and then Kyle’s phone dings with an incoming text, breaking the silence.

“All right then. It’ll be easiest if you follow me.” Michelle tilts her head toward the front door as she walks out from behind the bar and spins a key ring full of keys around her finger.

Michelle is a pretty girl. There’s something about her that’s very girl next door, the kind everyone wants to be best friends with and secretly envies at the same time. Her smile is bright, and her eyes are kind and unjaded. I can see why she runs the consumer side here, especially if the alternative is Zach. The thought of his name has me grinding my teeth.

“Michelle, text me if you need anything. I’ll be in the barn,” Kyle says, glancing up from his phone. He smiles at her, winks, and then heads off in the other direction. She blushes, and I feel a pang of jealousy.

Jealousy. My stomach drops—I’ve officially hit a new low.

I don’t even know these people, and I don’t want anything to do with the responsibility or obligations that come with a guy, yet I’m suddenly wishing I had someone who’d look at me with flirty eyes like he just looked at her. I was fine before I came here. I’m independent, driven, successful, and I love what I do. I have rules in place; I don’t mix business with pleasure, and I never involve the heart. I’ve also stuck to the plan—career first, guys later—and I shouldn’t care that this guy, one I’ve met twice, isn’t interested in me.

So, why do I?