Chapter 2 - Evan
EVAN
Unless he somehow forgot my name, Hunter Cross had to know I would be at this meeting.
I’ve been the only point of contact. I sent the meeting agenda to his VP.
My name is on it. And unless he’s as oblivious to his schedule as Isaac is, the look of surprise on his face when I walk into the conference room with Isaac is completely over the top.
But I think there might be some surprise on mine, too. I’ve seen Hunter in a suit a handful of times. His fraternity had formal parties on occasion where we’d both dress up, but in the same way I’ve filled out since college, so has he.
He was always the hot jock, while I was casual, studious, bordering on nerdy with the complete understanding that nerds have sex appeal, too.
He’s aged a bit more than I have, I think, and I can only imagine it’s from the death of his father and the stress of taking on a company he didn’t think he’d have to deal with until he was in his forties.
Isaac takes point, singling Hunter out immediately to shake his hand and introduce himself. Hunter snaps his gaze away from me and nods at Isaac, stammering out his own introduction.
“And this is my assistant, Evan Lockwood. I understand you’re acquainted.”
Hunter’s green eyes flare at the innocuous word, and then he offers his hand to me.
I try to keep my grin relaxed, but it’s stiffening. The way he’s looking at me—I didn’t expect that. I had this whole thing mapped out in my head—he’d be douchey and cocky—resistant to asking for help, but that’s not how he’s acting or looking. He looks…desperate.
Talk about an easy mark for Isaac, but it’s giving me feelings. Old ones, nice ones. I thought seeing him would bring up all the reasons we broke up, but instead, all I can think about are the reasons I fell for him in the first place. We were best friends.
Yikes, is all I can think as his hand wraps mine up and those pleading green eyes meet mine. “So good to see you,” he says, and he really sounds like he means it.
Hunter was the last guy I was in a serious relationship with. He hurt me pretty bad, but I never thought it was because he was a bad person. He was just more confused about us than I was.
Still, it was a third-degree burn. It left some deep scars, one of which is my lingering fear of getting involved with someone on an emotional level, hence casual office sex with my unattainable boss.
“You, too.” I remove my hand from his, aware that Isaac is watching me like a hawk. If I’m going to freak out, I need to save that shit for later. I swore I could handle this, and I will.
Isaac takes a seat, and I sit next to him. He opens with his standard line. “Tell me a little about your company.”
Hunter rips his gaze away from me and seems to try like hell to focus on Isaac.
But when no words come from his mouth, the woman on his left, who looks like she’s been around this particular block a few times, introduces herself as Glenda, the executive vice-president, and she takes over the talking.
Hunter sits back in his chair with a stoic expression and watches her, occasionally letting his gaze drift to Isaac, and once in a while, to me.
I’m not staring at him. Not exactly. I’m doing my job, taking notes, making sure Isaac can see my screen. His knee is resting against mine in a warm, comfortable, and slightly protective way. A reminder that he’s on my side.
Once the VP is done speaking, Isaac launches into his sales pitch, tailored specifically to the needs of Four Points Freight, proving he can pay attention to business when the moment calls for it.
Not that I doubted him. He presents as very laid-back in his CEO role, but no one achieves the level of success he has without having some serious acumen.
“Evan,” Isaac says suddenly. “Tell them about the program you’ve been developing.”
I look at him in surprise. “What?”
“The workforce scheduler?”
“I—” I clamp my mouth shut because I don’t want to sound like I have no idea what I’m doing here.
While I’ve mentioned the program several times to Isaac, I was positive he wasn’t listening since he’s basically trying to get into my pants all the time.
I mean—I send him email updates on the software every Tuesday, but I had no idea or indication he actually read them.
“Of course.” I glance at Hunter but then force my focus onto the VP or basically anyone else at the other end of the table.
“I’m working on a program that improves the user interface and background functioning of a large workforce scheduling app.
It’s a self-scheduler, personal calendar—totally integrated into whatever calendar an employee likes to use, but honestly—this calendar has more functionality, and it’s meant to be extremely user friendly and scaleable. ”
“He has a lot of strong feelings about calendar apps.” Isaac’s comment elicits a polite laugh from the Four Points team. Except for Hunter, who remains expressionless.
I continue. “Self-scheduling is a huge employee satisfier, and this software would reduce the amount of work on team leads or supervisors.”
“Is it complete? Can we take a look at it?” The VP asks.
“I can send you over a power point,” I pull out of my ass. I don’t have a power point. The program barely even works yet. “It’s still about three months out from being ready.”
“It’s truly incredible,” Isaac says. “Very innovative.”
My neck heats at the praise, and I pray the color doesn’t reach my face.
I need to stick my head in a bucket of ice water.
Working for Isaac Sullivan has been a life-changing experience.
The job offer last August felt like winning a lottery.
I might give him a hard time about our near daily liaisons, but it’s actually a very small part of our working relationship. Okay…not small…
“How long will you be in town?” I ask, needing the attention off me for once.
Hunter answers, speaking for the first time in half an hour. “A week.”
Isaac’s entire thigh pulls up flush with mine. “Perfect,” he says. “If you’d like, we can set up a meeting with legal to go over processes and procedures. You’re also welcome to meet with one of our logistics teams who can show you what they’ve been able to do with companies not unlike yours.”
“What’s your availability?” Hunter asks, and this time, he’s looking directly at me.
I pull up Yellow team’s schedule on my laptop and find a gap. “Monday looks promising,” I say. “I’ll email the team lead Alisha to confirm, and then I can get back to you.”
“Nothing tomorrow?” Hunter asks.
My nerves finally catch up with me. I keep my eyes glued to the screen. “Let me reach out. I can get back to you this afternoon.”
“Great,” he says.
“Are you speaking with other companies while you’re here?” Isaac asks.
The VP gives a curt nod.
“We’ll make tomorrow work, then,” Isaac declares. “I don’t want to take up all your time. Any other questions for now?”
There are polite no’s and thanks you’s as everyone rises from the conference table.
I stay seated, already sending an email to Alisha marked High Importance.
She’s almost as bad at responding to emails as Isaac is.
When I do get up, Isaac is right beside me, and Hunter is standing by the door, waiting.
I glance at Isaac. “Can I have a second?”
He lifts his brows, but his eyes don’t show surprise or interest. They’re more in the “seriously?” category.
I stare at him hard and long enough for him to nod and leave me alone with my ex. Hunter takes a few steps closer to where I’m still standing near the table. His shoulders drop, and he seems to lose an inch of height. “Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hi.”
“I had no idea you worked here,” he says.
“I gathered that. Sorry about your dad.”
A pained look crosses his face, but he shakes his head as if to wipe it away. It sort of works. “Can I buy you lunch?”
“You can ask me to join you for lunch, but I’ll pay for myself,” I tell him.
He nods, breaking eye contact. “All right. Join me for lunch then?”
“Yeah.” I close my laptop. “Sounds good.” I text Isaac to remind him to go to Brittney’s last day lunch before heading out with my one and only ex.
It’s amazing all the things you forget. It’s only been four years since I’ve seen Hunter, but in that time I must have changed a lot.
Or I’ve been through more than I thought.
For example, I forgot about the tiny mole beneath his lower lip on the left side of his face.
The way I used to stare at it before we got together.
I forgot how easily he can make me laugh, but almost more importantly, I forgot how funny he thinks I am.
This is why we were best friends. Fifteen minutes into lunch, he looks twenty times better than he did when I walked into the meeting this morning. When he says, “Fuck, I needed this,” I know it’s because of me.
“You look great,” he says.
I smile. “Thanks. You’ve looked better, but it’s understandable.”
“What can I say—running a company doesn’t agree with me, I guess.”
“I’m kidding. You look good, Hunter. Really. You could use some sun, but otherwise… How’s LA?”
“You know—loud. Obnoxious. Overwhelming.”
“Where are you living?”
“Hollywood Hills.”
“Nice.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks suddenly.
It takes me a minute to adjust to the subject change. I take a sip of my water and become very aware of my eyelashes fluttering stupidly. “I—no. I mean, you apologized.”
“Accepting an apology doesn’t mean you forgave me.”
“I get that, but I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”
“I wasn’t,” he says, sincerely. “I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and I can’t believe how bad I let myself fuck us up.”