Chapter 9 #2
He nearly chokes on his coffee and suddenly, without my brother or sister-in-law here, he looks a lot less at ease. Almost nervous. I swear I even see a hint of red creep up from his stubble over his cheeks.
“Do I make you nervous, Mr. Jacob?” I tease, my voice laced with amusement and maybe a touch of flirtatiousness. OK, more than a touch.
He glares back at me, but I still see a hint of that nervousness as he squirms in his seat. I savor this moment before he replies. “Something like that. You have a knack for seeing through me, Rainbow.”
Something like that.
Seeing through me.
I don’t know what to make of that, but I don’t have time to think about it.
TJ grabs the arm of my chair, and slides me closer to him, turning it so we're eye to eye.
With his jacket in his lap, the motion draws my eyes to his defined biceps and chorded forearms, barely straining to move me and my armchair.
He literally just turned the tables on me, or I guess chair.
I’m starting to get it. My Grandma, Veronica, Josie, even Collin and Walker. I can see TJ’s appeal. He is hot. I'm just going to tuck that away though because I might actually be crazy enough to work for him.
He crosses his arms over the back of the chair. “I mean it this time. I’m serious. I want you to manage my charitable giving. You'd be working with my brother, Jake, who also happens to be my accountant, financial advisor, and lawyer.”
There’s no playfulness, no doubt, no nervousness, in his voice now.
That has completely vanished. This doesn’t feel like the spur of the moment question he blurted out at the bar the first time he asked me.
His blue eyes are so intense, unflinching in holding my gaze, leaving no doubt that he means it.
This time, he's all business, all confidence, all conviction. I’m used to cocky ski bros or arrogant finance guys and their irritating swagger. But this look — this matter-of-factness in his tone — is something different. It’s almost a presence more than an attitude.
I swallow, sitting taller in my chair. “OK.”
His eyes soften and his grip on the back of the chair relaxes.
“Wait, what? That easy?” He looks both shocked and relieved, which is exactly what I'm feeling right now.
Collin and Josie warmed me up to the idea last night and now, seeing TJ in person again, it feels like the universe is back on my side, giving me a sign.
“Yep. So is this a full time job?” I hold my fingers together like I'm holding a pencil in one hand, scribbling notes on an imaginary note pad in the other. “What will my responsibilities be, Mr. Jacob?”
His eyes flick upward in annoyance. “Can you stop calling me that too? TJ is more than fine.” He grabs a napkin off the coffee table and scribbles something on it with a pencil that was tucked behind his ear.
Wait, was that there the whole time? Hidden by that shaggy blond hair? Maybe it’s some kind of musician quirk, always ready to jot down a lyric when the moment strikes.
He quickly folds the napkin and hands it to me.
Our fingers graze as I pull my hand away with the napkin note.
I feel the brief warmth of his touch and the tension in him that spreads into me.
His hand recoils, almost like a reflex and he drops to his side.
I notice how his hand curls into a fist before flexing his fingers back out and resting them on his thigh.
I sigh and tilt my head. “Really? Handwritten notes on napkins? And who carries a pencil? You know you could just text me it if you don’t want someone else to overhear. God, you really are old.” I meant it as a playful jab, but he seems both unamused and unaffected.
“Look. If I gave you that much to manage,” he points to the number on the napkin, “to pick causes for, when and how to donate, would that be a full time job?”
I pull the note to my chest like I'm hiding my poker hand, wearing a sheepish grin. He watches me, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile as he leans forward over the back of the chair.
I fold the note open and look down. My mouth hangs open and I’m not sure when I stopped blinking.
That’s a big number.
“TJ,” my voice comes out as a breathy whisper. I find myself almost speechless for a change. “That's like seven figures. Is this a joke?”
“Oh, shit,” his brows furrows and forms a line in between them, drawing my eyes to that little piercing. He reaches over and snatches the napkin. He scribbles something on it and hands it back. “Sorry. I missed a zero.”
I open the note again, and wow… OK, now there are eight figures.
I have so many questions.
I knew TJ had money. I mean he’s a rockstar, or retired rockstar, or whatever he’s calling himself.
I know he has the amazing houses all over the place, but an eight figure charitable donation is so rare.
I never got to work with donors, individuals or corporations, anywhere remotely close to being that large.
Our biggest donor at Wasatch Wishes was a one time donor for a million dollars and they were handled by our founders.
“I don’t see how it's a full time job to manage this for you. We’d spend a few months picking the charities and disbursing the funds, but then what work would be left?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t clear.” His voice is steady and he still has that calm, matter-of-fact presence.
“I give roughly that much, every year. So let’s consider this a trial run.
Jake had to handle the end of year donations, but I could use his focus on some other projects this year.
So you could work on making a plan for this year and see how we could be doing better. ”
Reality sets in that he’s very serious about this and it might actually be a real job, not a pity offer.
It also might be something I enjoy, and I’m good at.
I spent so much time working on finding donors and keeping them.
We were an established cause too. Everything we did was tied to getting kids exposure to the outdoors.
For once, I'd be looking for other causes that would interest me… well I guess TJ technically. It’s his money after all.
“A trial run? What? Are you afraid I won't do a good enough job?” I finally answer.
What is wrong with me? Why did I just antagonize him when he’s offering me what really is a fantastic opportunity? I should know better than to piss off the universe when it’s dropping job offers from retired rock gods into my lap.
A muscle ticks in his jaw and he folds his arms across his chest, showcasing those damn forearms again. “No. I’m afraid you won’t like working with me and Jake.”
“So tell me more about this Jake. Is that like your alter ego? Dr. Tommy and Mr. Jacob?” I ask, holding my hand to my chin looking as inquisitive as possible.
Also, does he really think I’d reject a serious offer from him?
The time at The Chairlift was one thing, but this time I can tell he’s serious.
He rolls his eyes and looks back at me. “Jake is my brother from foster care. I told you he works for me.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had any siblings,” I say, slightly shocked.
He’s opening up to me, something he’s not known for and I don’t take that lightly.
I sit up a little taller in my seat at that realization.
“Wow. Talk about unfortunate names, Jake Jacob. But still this all sounds great. I just have one last question. Why me? I told you, I’m not a charity case.
” Maybe part of me is being self-indulgent, hunting for a compliment or some kind of validation from him.
But I do genuinely want to know why on earth he wants to hire me.
His eyes narrow and his lips shift into a frown. “First, it’s not charity. It just seems like good karmic timing. You needed a job and Jake wants me to donate even more in the future. Second, Jacob isn’t his last name but that’s beside the point.”
Karmic timing. I think he already has me sold with that. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
He must sense my optimism because his frown disappears when he unfolds his arms and grabs his iced coffee. “You have more experience with non-profits than Jake and me combined. Sure, we give a lot of money. But I’ve never been able to be as involved as I want and stay anonymous at the same time.”
He takes a sip before a smug grin spreads across his face.
“And in case you haven't noticed, I try to surround myself with good people. I’ve hired both of your brothers over the years, the Sterlings — Sutton and Slade. I like people I can trust.” He tilts his drink toward me, emphasizing the last two words. “Like you.”
Something about those two words from him feels like such a compliment.
I might have been playfully looking for words of validation from him, but to hear that from someone I know values his privacy so much feels different.
It feels more validating than anything else he’s said this entire conversation. It feels intimate and personal.
“I’ll do it,” I say without hesitation, feeling sure of myself and him.
I can practically see his body relax at my words, a wide, unrestrained smile spreading across his face.
I can’t help but notice that it’s not the same smile that he showed around my brother and V or my grandparents the other night.
This one is almost sheepish with a hint of boyish charm.
Both of his dimples flare in a way that’s both endearing but also impossible to look away from.
His soulful eyes peer into mine and I can feel my skin heat under his gaze.
He’s been hanging on my every word for this entire chance run-in today, just like he did at the reception, but this feels different.
Between his presence and the look in his eyes, I cross my legs, trying to ignore my body's reaction.
I feel like we're lost in this stalemate for way too long before a deep, playful voice cuts the silence. “You're an ass. I can’t believe you unleashed Kelsey on me like that.”
We both look up to see Sutton Sterling, Gloria’s chef who catered the wedding, rounding the corner from the front room and glaring right at TJ. “Did I miss anything good?”
TJ looks both irritated with his friend and almost giddy at the same time. “Just that I hired Grace over here finally.”
Sutton grins back at him before turning to me, holding out his drink for a mid-air toast. “Hell yeah, welcome to Team TJ.”
What did I just get myself into?