5. Tessa
Chapter 5
Tessa
" Y ou did not just send him flirty texts about financial projections," Ivy groans, watching me clutch my phone. "Please tell me you're not that much of a numbers nerd."
I sink down onto our new display counter, still warm from installation. "I panicked! He was doing that sexy storm out exit thing and I just… wanted to keep the conversation going."
"By offering to review raw data? Over coffee?" She snatches my phone, reading through the exchange. "Oh, honey. Although…" She pauses, a smile spreading across her face. "He did text back. Multiple times."
"Right?" I hop up, pacing our empty bakery. "And he took the cookies I folded up in the napkin for him. I watched him through the window as he stuffed them into his pocket."
"Creeper," she teases.
"Shut up. I was just… making sure he found them."
"While hiding behind a display case?"
"It wasn't hiding! It was… strategic observation."
My phone buzzes again and we both dive for it. Ivy gets there first, holding it out of reach as she reads it.
Zane
The projections really might need another review. Tomorrow. Nine a.m.
"Oh my God," she squeals. "He's using work as an excuse to see you again!"
I snatch my phone back, heart racing as I read his message. "Or maybe he actually found issues with our numbers."
"Please. Those projections are solid and you know it. You triple-checked everything."
"Four times, actually," I mutter, staring at my phone. "Should I play it cool? Wait to respond?"
"Since when have you ever played anything cool where Zane Mercer is concerned?"
She has a point. I type quickly.
Me
I'll bring the raw data. And maybe more cookies?
His response comes faster this time.
Zane
Just bring yourself… and the glasses.
"Holy shit," Ivy breathes, reading over my shoulder. "That was almost… flirty?"
"The glasses thing is probably professional," I say, but my cheeks heat up. "He probably just wants to make sure I can see the spreadsheets clearly."
"Right. Because nothing says 'professional meeting' like specifically requesting eyewear." She fans herself dramatically. "Face it, Tess. The Ice King is melting and apparently he has a little nerd fantasy."
"More like thawing slightly," I correct, but I can't help smiling. "Did you see his face when I broke down our debt ratios, though? He was actually impressed."
"I saw something, alright." She starts wiping down counters, shooting me knowing looks. "Though I was more focused on the way he kept finding excuses to lean over your shoulder. Pretty sure he wasn't just interested in your Excel formulas."
"He was probably checking my math."
"He was checking something, alright." She throws her rag at me. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
I catch the rag, twisting it in my hands. "I don't know. Push harder? Back off? Every time I think I'm getting somewhere with him, those walls come right back up."
"So knock them down."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" She stops cleaning, turning to face me fully. "I’m going to use your same words that you said to me. You're not that shy teenager anymore, Tess. You're a successful businesswoman who knows what she wants. So go get it."
I think about the way Zane looked at me today—not just with professional interest, but with something deeper. Something that sent a shiver of excitement through me and made my heart race.
"You really think he's interested?"
"Girl." She grabs my shoulders. "That man practically growled when Asher interrupted your cookie moment. Trust me, he's interested. He's just too stubborn to admit it."
"Then I guess I'll have to be more stubborn," I say, already planning tomorrow's outfit. Those glasses he mentioned? They're going to look perfect with my new pencil skirt.
My phone buzzes again and my stomach flips when I see his name. This isn’t just a work thing; this feels like that nervous excitement you get in your bedroom when you’re sixteen and the hottest boy in school has just looked at you.
Zane
Don't be late tomorrow, Miss Marlow. I hate waiting.
I smile, typing back my response.
Me
Funny. I've been waiting ten years. What's another day?
I don’t know why I type that. I’m trying to keep my expectations low, reminding myself that while I’ve been harboring a crush for a decade, to him I might just be another notch in his belt.
"Oh snap!" Ivy crows. "Look who’s getting flirty!"
His response makes my breath catch.
Zane
Some things are worth the wait.
"Okay," I admit, showing Ivy the message, "maybe he is thawing."
"Ya think?" She grins. "Now come on. We need to pick out the perfect outfit for tomorrow's 'business meeting.'"
Two hours later, I'm home, surrounded by every piece of professional clothing I own. My glasses sit on my nightstand, freshly cleaned. Tomorrow's reports are organized and ready, complete with sticky note tabs for easy reference.
I’m finishing up my nightly routine, ready to climb into bed when my phone buzzes one last time. My breath catches when I glance over at the screen, Zane’s name next to a new message.
Zane
Bring your A game tomorrow, Marlow. I'll be checking those numbers thoroughly.
I smile, giggling to myself as I type out a reply.
Me
Careful, Mr. Mercer. Someone might think you're looking forward to this.
I'm about to set my phone down when another message comes through.
Zane
And if you’re not home already, get home safe. The snow's getting worse.
My heart does a little flip. Is the infamous Zane Mercer actually showing concern?
Me
Why, Mr. Mercer, one might think you care.
His response makes me bite my lip.
Zane
Professional interest. Can't have my potential investment freezing to death before I see those raw numbers.
Me
Just the numbers you're interested in seeing?
I hold my breath after hitting send, wondering if I've pushed too far. The typing bubbles appear and disappear several times.
Zane
Careful, troublemaker. Some questions are better asked in person.
"Oh my God," I whisper to my empty bedroom, hugging my phone to my chest like a teenager. I'm about to respond when another text comes through.
Zane
Wear your hair up tomorrow. I like seeing your neck when you're talking numbers.
Heat floods my body. Two can play at this game.
Me
Noted. Anything else you'd like to see?
Zane
Many things. None of them appropriate for text.
Me
Since when are you appropriate?
Zane
Since I'm trying very hard not to drive over there right now.
My hands actually shake as I type.
Me
What's stopping you?
The response takes longer this time.
Zane
The knowledge that once I start, I won't be able to stop. And you deserve better than a late-night impulse.
Me
What if I don't want better? What if I just want you?
Zane
Jesus, Tessa. You can't say things like that to me.
Me
Why not?
Zane
Because it makes me want to break every rule I've made. Every wall I've built.
Me
Then break them.
The typing bubbles appear and disappear multiple times.
Zane
Tomorrow. Nine a.m. Let me do this right.
Something warm unfurls in my chest. Because maybe that's even better than a late-night visit—the idea that Zane Mercer wants to "do this right" where I'm concerned.
Zane
Now go to sleep before I lose what's left of my self-control.
Me
Good night, Mr. Mercer. Sweet dreams.
I fall back onto my pillows, grinning like an idiot. I don’t want to get my hopes up because I know I’ll only have myself to blame if they get dashed but it’s too late. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve just been given a second chance with my teenage crush and I’m not screwing it up this time.
Zane
Still awake?
Me
Maybe.
Zane
I can't stop thinking about those glasses.
Me
Just the glasses?
Zane
You're dangerous, Miss Marlow.
Me
You have no idea.
Zane
I'm starting to. Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be interesting.
I hug my phone close, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Because tomorrow is going to be more than interesting—it’s going to be the start of something. I fall back onto my bed, my heart thudding against my ribs with the hope that Ivy's right. Maybe the Ice King is melting after all. And maybe—I'm exactly the fire he needs to thaw him out completely.