Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Beau
I stood outside the office building on Monday morning, staring at the glass doors like they might bite me.
“You can do this,” I muttered.
It’s just work. Just a normal Monday. You definitely did not make out with your colleague two nights ago and then get ghosted.
A woman walking past gave me a concerned look.
“I’m fine!” I called after her. “Totally fine!”
I was not fine.
I’d checked my phone approximately seven hundred times since Sunday morning. Mason had not texted. Had not sent smoke signals or carrier pigeons or any other form of communication acknowledging that we’d kissed like our lives depended on it.
I took a deep breath, straightened my tie, and walked through those doors like I was heading into battle.
Which, let’s be honest, I kind of was.
The elevator ride felt like it took nineteen years. I’d strategically timed my arrival for 7:47—late enough that most people would already be at their desks, early enough that I wouldn’t look like I was avoiding anyone.
Even though I was definitely avoiding someone.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the hallway, my heart pounding like I’d just run a marathon. I could see the conference room from here—empty, thank God—and my office was just around the corner. If I moved fast, I could make it without—
“Beau!”
I jumped about three feet in the air and spun around.
Lisa was standing there with two cups of coffee, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Rough weekend?”
“What? No. Fine. Great. Weekend was great.” I was talking too fast. I forced myself to slow down. “How was yours?”
“Boring. Travis and I just binged-watched some Netflix show about a serial murderer.” She handed me one of the coffees. “You, on the other hand, look like you murdered someone and are waiting for the cops to show up.”
“I don’t—that’s not—I’m just tired.”
“Uh-huh.” Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Beau.”
“Nothing happened. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“You said ‘fine’ three times in ten seconds. That’s the opposite of fine.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Oh my God, did you hook up with someone?”
“No!”
“You totally did!”
“Can we please not do this right now?” I said through gritted teeth.
“We’re absolutely doing this right now. Come on, spill. What happened?”
“Lisa, I swear to God—”
“Morning, Beau.”
I froze.
That voice. Deep, controlled, professional. The same voice that had said my name in a completely different tone two nights ago, rough and wanting and—
I turned around.
Mason was standing there in a charcoal suit, his hair perfectly styled, and his expression was completely neutral. Like he was looking at a stranger. Like we hadn’t had our tongues in each other’s mouths forty-eight hours ago.
“Mason.” My voice came out weird. Too high. I cleared my throat. “Hey. Morning.”
“Morning.” He didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Lisa.”
“Mason! How was your weekend?” Lisa was looking between us with way too much interest.
“Fine, productive.” Mason’s jaw was tight. “Beau, do you have a minute? I wanted to go over some of the MediCorp documents before the meeting.”
“The meeting?”
“Carter called one for nine. Didn’t you get the email?”
I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, there was an email from Carter sent at 7:15 this morning: MediCorp team meeting, 9 AM, Conference Room B. Mandatory.
Shit.
“Yeah, I got it. Sorry, just haven’t checked my emails yet.”
“Clearly.” Mason’s tone was clipped. Professional. Like I was just another colleague he was mildly annoyed with.
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
“I’ll meet you in the conference room in five,” I said, matching his tone. “I need to drop my stuff at my office first.”
“Fine.” Mason nodded at Lisa—actually nodded, like she was a stranger—and walked away.
Lisa waited exactly three seconds before grabbing my arm. “Okay, what the fuck was that?”
“What was what?”
“That!” She gestured in the direction Mason had gone. “The tension! The way you two were looking at each other, like you wanted to either kill each other or—” Her eyes went wide. “OH MY GOD. Mason! It was Mason!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Beau Thatcher, you look me in the eye right now and tell me you did not hook up with Mason Price this weekend.”
“We didn’t hook up.”
“But something happened.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Lisa’s face transformed into pure delight. “I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two! The way you argue in meetings, the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching—”
“He does not look at me when no one’s watching.”
“He absolutely does. It’s like he’s trying to figure you out. Or murder you. Sometimes both.” She squeezed my arm. “So what happened? Did you kiss? Please tell me you kissed.”
“Lisa—”
“You did! You kissed Mason Price!” She was practically vibrating with excitement. “Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it? He seems like he’d be a good kisser. All that repression has to go somewhere—”
“I have a meeting in four minutes.”
“Fine, fine. But we’re talking about this later. I want details. All the details.” She started walking backward toward her office. “And Beau? Whatever happened, whatever weird thing is going on between you two? Fix it. Because that tension is going to make working together really uncomfortable.”
“Thanks for that insight,” I muttered.
She laughed and disappeared around the corner.
I stood there for a moment, coffee in hand, trying to get my heart rate under control.
Everything was fine. Mason and I were professionals. We could work together without it being weird.
Even if seeing him just now, all cold and distant, had felt like a punch to the gut.
I downed half my coffee in one gulp and headed to the conference room.
* * *
By the time I walked into Conference Room B, Mason was already there, sitting at the table with his laptop open and a stack of documents in front of him. He didn’t look up when I entered.
Cool. We were doing the “pretend Saturday night never happened” thing.
I sat down across from him—not next to him, because I wasn’t a masochist—and pulled out my laptop.
The silence was deafening.
“So,” I said finally. “About Saturday—”
“We should focus on the meeting.” Mason’s eyes stayed fixed on his screen.
“Mason—”
“Carter will be here any minute. We need to be prepared.”
“I know we need to be prepared, but we also need to—”
The door opened, and Patsy walked in, looking way too cheerful for a Monday morning.
“Boys! How was your weekend?” She plopped down at the head of the table. “Do anything fun besides moving?”
Mason’s shoulders tensed.
I nearly choked on my coffee.
“Just... relaxed,” I managed. “You know. Low-key.”
“Mason?” Patsy looked at him expectantly.
“Dinner with my father,” Mason said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Oh, that’s nice! How is your father?”
“Getting married, apparently.”
Patsy’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s wonderful! When did this happen?”
“He told me last night. They’ve been dating for six months.”
“Well, good for him. Life’s too short not to take chances on happiness, you know?” She took a sip of her coffee. “Speaking of which, you two seem tense. Everything okay with the case?”
“Fine,” Mason and I said in unison.
Patsy’s eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh. You know, for two people who are supposed to be collaborating, you’re sitting pretty far apart.”
“We’re maintaining a professional distance,” Mason said.
“It’s a conference table, not a dance floor. You don’t need professional distance.” She gestured at the empty chairs. “Come on, scoot together. You’re a team.”
I looked at Mason. Mason looked at me.
Neither of us moved.
“Now I’m concerned,” Patsy said. “Did something happen? If you two are having issues working together, we need to address that now, not in the middle of negotiations.”
“We’re not having issues,” I blurted.
“We’re fine,” Mason added.
“Then prove it. Sit next to each other like adults.”
This was humiliating.
I grabbed my laptop and moved to the chair next to Mason.
Patsy rolled her eyes. “Better. Barely. But we’ll work on your team bonding later.”
The door opened again, and Carter walked in.
If Patsy was sunshine and iced coffee, Carter was storm clouds and black coffee.
“Good morning,” he said, his tone making it clear that pleasantries were over. He set his briefcase down and pulled out a tablet. “Let’s talk about New Orleans.”
Mason and I exchanged a glance.
“New Orleans?” I asked.
“MediCorp’s headquarters. Where we’ll finalize the merger terms.” Carter looked at us as if we were supposed to know this already. “Didn’t you read the briefing I sent last night?”
I had not read the briefing he sent last night. I’d been too busy counting my blessings and trying not to text Mason.
“I skimmed it,” I lied.
Carter’s expression said he knew I was full of shit. “The executives want to meet in person. Hammer out the final details, address any concerns, and get everything signed before Thanksgiving. You two are flying down Thursday, meetings Friday and Saturday, back Sunday night.”
“Both of us?” Mason’s voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the tension underneath.
“Yes, both of you. That’s what a team means, Price.” Carter pulled up something on his tablet. “The medical technology provisions are your specialty, Beau. And Mason, you’re handling the financial structures and regulatory compliance. MediCorp wants both of you there to answer questions directly.”
“Of course,” Mason said.
“Great,” I said weakly.
“I’ve booked you on the same flight—United 1447, Thursday at 2 PM. Hotel reservations are at the Windsor Court. You’ll have separate rooms,” Carter added, like he could sense the panic radiating off both of us. “The meeting schedule will be sent by end of day today.”
“Separate rooms,” I repeated, just to confirm.
Carter looked at us, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” Mason said quickly.
“None,” I added.