11. Bryn
Chapter eleven
Bryn
Izzy
You’ll never guess who came to the office today…
Okay, it’s not any fun if you don’t play along.
…
GUESS!
Me
Okay, okay, jeez. Uhm, Janice, HRH Queen of Wild Bluffs?
Izzy
Don’t even joke about that. I can’t handle the gossip queen in my office on a Monday morning. There is not enough coffee in the world to have prepared me for that.
Leave it to Izzy to draw this out. She knows how busy I am during the week, but no, she still insists on texting me right during the middle of a meeting with one of our development teams and then has the gall to be annoyed that I waited until the meeting was over to respond. You would think running a management consultancy firm with Becca would keep her busy, but apparently she’s looking to gossip this morning.
Me
Turns out, I don’t care who came to your office today. *peace emoji*
As expected, seconds later my phone’s screen lights up with an incoming from Izzy.
“Oh, hey, Iz,” I say as the connection finalizes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You are a pain in my ass. You know that, right? Why can you never play along?!” She’s glaring at the screen, but her smile is trying to fight its way out.
“Izzy, just tell her already!” I hear Becca’s voice from somewhere close to the phone.
I roll my eyes. Clearly, a lot of work is getting done at Flat Roads Consulting today. “Hey, Becca.”
Her face pops into the frame as Izzy flips her phone’s camera around.
I wave and then the video is switched back to Izzy. “How was Sunday night dinner, Iz? Did Mom lecture you on your current marital status again?”
“Ugh. Yes. Luckily, Kelsey didn’t ditch me like you did, so we at least got to share the burden of not providing grandchildren.” She shrugs. It’s a lecture we’ve all heard about a million times now, so it’s not one we take too seriously. “But, really, that is not why we called. I’ve got two words for you—Jameson Walker.”
“Umm.” I search her eyes through the screen, hoping for some more context. “I’m going to need more than just a name.”
Both Izzy and Becca are in the video now. “Jameson ‘The Dick’ Walker was just in my office,” Becca says somewhat grumpily.
The Dick. It makes him sound like he’s got some super dick and as such is the only thing that can define him. It’s like being “The Arm,” except instead of being a pitcher with a kickass fastball, he’s a man with an incredibly talented dick.
“Technically, he was in both of our offices, since it’s an open floor plan. And”—she flicks Becca’s arm, causing the phone to jiggle nauseatingly—“if you want to be even more specific, he was here to find me, so I’d say he was in my office.”
I glance at my watch, realizing I’ve got three minutes until I need to be on my next meeting, a virtual one with our team in Vancouver. “I’ve got two minutes. I need one of you to tell me why the hell Jameo was in your office and why it matters to me.”
I get the same pitying look from both of them at the last comment as we all realize why it would matter to me. I may or may not have been in a pissy mood since they last saw me, due to the man.
“Okay, I can do this. Two minutes.” Izzy rolls her neck like she’s getting ready for a fight. “Jameson stopped by here approximately an hour ago looking for you. Apparently, he asked Tony for your number, since you seemed to know him, but he said he wasn’t allowed to give out members’ or their guests’ numbers per club rules. He did, however, mention my bio is on the club’s membership page, and it lists me as the owner of Flat Roads Consulting. He also happened to share the fact that we have an office in town. So Jameson and—honestly, it was crazy—Jameson came in with JT Johnson, Bryn. Two professional golfers were in our office at the same time. It was…”
“Guys!” I’m dying over here. “Please, for the love of God, tell me what happened.”
They both laugh. “Well, the gist of it is that he asked for your phone number, I typed it into his phone for him, and now the ball is in his court. Do you think he’ll call you?”
Holy cow. Jameson Walker asked for my number. He went out of his way to find someone who had my number, and now he’s going to reach out to me. I might actually see the man again. The thought has me both nauseous and giddy.
I hear my phone buzz with a work message. “Shit, I have to go. I will talk to you both later.”
“You have to tell us as soon as—” I cut Becca off, pounding the red End button while simultaneously pulling up my laptop.
As I settle into my chair, my mind keeps going back to Jameson. I don’t know why I’m so flustered about this. I’m a successful, attractive woman, and men asking for my number isn’t anything new. But there’s something about Jameson that’s different. Yes, he’s obviously very good-looking. He’s got those moss-green eyes which, I will admit, made me just a bit weak in the knees when I stared at them a little too long. And, yes, he has clearly been spending some time in the weight room. It’s hard to miss an ass like that when he’s on the tee box in front of you.
But it’s something more. He took my normal sass and threw it right back at me. There is also something strangely appealing about the way he dominated me on the golf course. Pulled zero punches for my sake, and I appreciate that.
Whatever it is, I can’t stop thinking about him. I know nothing can come from it, but something inside of me is begging me to at least give it a try.
My meeting goes on for what feels like hours, and I’m barely paying attention. Every time my phone buzzes, I hope it’s Jameson, but it’s just more work messages and a constant barrage of texts from Izzy and Becca asking for updates. By the time the meeting is finally over, it’s already late afternoon. This. This is why I can’t let myself fall for a guy. I need to be focused on my career right now, not wondering if someone is going to text me or not.
As I walk toward the elevators, I’m stopped by Kyle Davis, the director of marketing. “Bryn, can I see you in my office for a minute? I need a number of changes to the app to be made before a big marketing push rolls out next week,” he says, straightening his perfectly tailored suit sleeves.
Kyle is one of the few individuals at this company I truly cannot stand. I may go as far as to call him my nemesis. It’s not just his douchey face or the fact that he seems to have everyone fooled by his polished demeanor and weasel smile. No, I hate him because he frequently claims my ideas as his own and then still has the nerve to treat me like he is my boss rather than at the exact same level as me. Someday, when Tara retires as the head of the North America region, we are going to have a battle royale to determine who actually is the boss of the other. A battle I cannot—I will not—lose.
An hour later, I’m finally able to go home. As I leave Kyle’s office, ready to dump a cup of coffee straight in his arrogant face, I look down at my phone and see there’s a voicemail from an unknown number. Ugh. I have spotty service in the office, and my calls occasionally get sent straight to voicemail.
As I go to pull up the message, my phone vibrates with a text coming in.
Unknown Number
Hey, Bryn, this is Jameson Walker. I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from your sister today. I just wanted to say I had a lot of fun with you this weekend. Please disregard the voicemail I just left. I’m very aware that no one actually calls people anymore. It was a weird thing to do.
I laugh as I read the message, glad he gave me an out with the voicemail. There was zero chance that I was going to call him back.
I save his number in my phone and make my way down to the street. On the short walk to my hotel, I stop by one of my favorite restaurants to grab my takeout order.
Me
Hmm…Jameson Walker, you say. That name seems familiar for some reason. Are you the guy at the airport who asked for my number after trying to airdrop me a dick pic?
Jameson
Bold. Please tell me that did not actually happen to you.
Me
Just one of the small perks of flying the friendly skies as much as I do. I’m constantly inundated with the best the country has to offer in terms of humans, germs, and dicks.
Izzy
What a privileged life you live.
I wander into my hotel room, setting my takeout dinner on the little desk while pulling off my shoes. I decline yet another FaceTime from my sister, enjoying my conversation with Jameson too much to talk to Izzy right now. Plus, it’s fun to make her wait.
I text him back, thinking about how easy it is to talk to him. Jameson is funnier than I anticipated. I didn’t expect his humor on the course to be quite as…intelligent? I am well aware there are many smart professional athletes, but I guess I played the odds and assumed he wasn’t.
I’m also resisting the urge to Google Jameson. One, because I don’t want to be tempted to creepily stare at the pictures of him all night long. And two, because I’m not sure I want to know everything the internet has to say about him. I might—okay, I definitely will—at some point give in to the temptation, but now, when things just seem easy and fun, I’m probably better off not knowing.
My FaceTime rings again, and I give in, swiping to answer my sister’s call.
“You’re a real dick, you know?” She’s glaring at me, her eyes tiny slits behind her glasses.
I point to my chest. “Me? Your favorite sister?”
“I’m officially handing the title to Kelsey. You know what you did.”
I sit in silence, knowing it’ll just irritate her more.
She finally breaks. “Ugh! You really are the worst. Tell me! Did he text you?”
I do my best to look confused. “Who?”
“I hate you. Did Jameson Walker, the professional golfer you hung out with this weekend who also came into my office today to ask for your phone number, contact you in any way, shape, or form?”
“Thank you for clarifying. I am wildly popular, so can’t be expected to remember whose calls you believe I’m waiting on.”
She blinks rapidly at me, something she only does when signaling her annoyance.
“Tell me, Bryn, or I will get Kelsey to have her team hack your stupid phone. And while they are in there, I will make them change your autocorrect so that every time you write ‘meeting,’ it changes to ‘hookup.’”
“Jesus, Iz, that’s oddly specific.” I think about the implications of such a switch. “And, upon further reflection, would completely unhinge my work messages. I’m also like ninety-nine percent certain Kelsey’s team can’t, technically or legally, do that.”
“I will kill you.”
“Fine!” I smile at her. “You’re so testy today. Yes, he randomly called and left me a voicemail while I was still at the office, but then he immediately followed it up with a text, so I’ve decided to forgive him for such a ridiculous notion.”
Izzy crinkles her nose. “Can you imagine if you would’ve had to call him back? It would’ve been the beginning of the end right there.”
“I know. I truly don’t think I would’ve done it. I mean, I would’ve responded…just via text.”
She laughs. “Obviously. No way you’re not responding when Jameson Walker calls. That man is beautiful.”
“I don’t know if I would go with beautiful. Definitely handsome, but I think he might be a bit too rugged to be in the beautiful classification.”
“You’re not wrong. His friend JT, though? He—and can we just spend one more moment reflecting on the two hot, professional golfers in my office today?—is beautiful with his blond hair and blue eyes.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes but shakes it away. “Anyway, did he ask you out?!”
“Yes, in the first ten text messages he, like any other normal, red-blooded male, poetically asked me out on a date with a horse-drawn carriage and a pathway of rose petals,” I reply sarcastically.
“Ew, that sounds like a terrible first date. I hope he has something better planned.”
“I would truly hate being taken on that date.”
“I know. So, are you going to drop the cherry bomb on him before you go out?”
“Can we please not call losing my virginity that? And no, I’m not going to tell him. He, like all other people, will just assume that I’ve had sex. I’m twenty-eight and not actually all that awkward.”
“Or you could tell him so you don’t start your relationship off with a lie…”
“You’re the worst. I regret telling you about still being a virgin. Plus, I gotta go. I need to eat this beef lo mein that is currently getting cold.”
Plus, I have someone waiting for a text back from me.