Chapter 8
HOLLIS
Istood on my deck, beer number three in hand, watching the Pacific stretch out endlessly under the fading sunset. The waves rolled in with their usual rhythm, but they weren’t doing their job tonight.
Usually, it was peaceful. Calming. It settled my soul. Not tonight. My mind was still back in that office.
Fuck, she’d been something today. Sitting behind that desk like she owned the world, hair down instead of pinned back, those blue eyes sharp and assessing me. The navy dress had hugged her curves in ways that made my dick hard just thinking about it.
Yesterday, she’d looked a little green. Today, she looked like she was ready for the runway.
I’d managed to keep from hitting on her. Mostly. Played it professional, kept my focus on the business. But every time she’d looked up at me, my train of thought almost derailed.
I took another pull from the bottle, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat. The beer wasn’t helping. Neither was the view. My brain kept circling back to her. Those lips. Her curves.
But she hated me. That much was clear. Her defensive posture screamed that she wanted nothing to do with me beyond what her father had forced on her. And this deal was important to me.
A million orders. That was all that stood between me and legitimacy.
People assumed I got everything handed to me on a silver platter, and yes, I had been born with advantages others didn’t have.
But my business had been all my hard work, specifically because I wanted to make it successful on my own.
I couldn’t fuck this up by thinking with my dick.
The smart play would be to go out. Hit one of the bars in Santa Monica. Find some woman who’d be interested in helping me burn off this tension. No strings, no complications, just a pleasant distraction that would reset my brain.
The thought didn’t even make my dick flinch. Zero interest.
I didn’t want some random woman.
“Nope.” I said it out loud, like that would make it more effective. “Not going there.”
But my brain wasn’t listening. It kept replaying moments from today. Flashes of captured images. That moment at the end when I’d left the smoothie on her desk and she’d blushed.
That had my cock twitching.
Fuck this. I needed to burn off this restless energy inside me. My house was large, especially for just one guy, but it felt too small suddenly. Too quiet.
I grabbed my phone, put in my ear buds, and headed down to the beach. The air had that salt-and-seaweed smell that usually centered me. I started jogging, letting my muscles warm up, finding a rhythm.
There were the usual beachgoers taking advantage of the beautiful weather and gorgeous sunset. The waves crashed beside me.
I pushed harder and faster after getting warmed up, trying to outrun temptation.
She was infuriating. Stubborn. So convinced she was right about everything that she couldn’t see past her own biases. She’d made up her mind about me before we’d even had a real conversation.
She was also brilliant. Passionate. Completely unimpressed by my name or my face or anything else that usually made people give me the benefit of the doubt. She challenged me.
And that dress. God, that dress.
I pushed harder, my breathing getting rough. The beer was definitely making this harder than it should be but I wasn’t about to stop. She’d gotten under my skin.
And I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
I had sweated out the alcohol by the time I climbed the steps back up to my deck. My head felt clearer. I stood on my deck again, hands on my knees, catching my breath.
I needed to figure out how to work with Juno Young without letting this attraction distract me from everything I’d worked for. All of it depended on keeping my head in the game.
Even if every instinct I had was telling me to make her mine.
I had started my company because I wanted to help people be healthier. That motivated me more than anything. But I also wanted to build the business to make my own mark on the world.
I wasn’t going to be remembered as a great talent in Hollywood like my parents. I didn’t need the money. Didn’t want the fame. But I wanted success. I wanted to do it under my own steam.
It would have been so easy for me to coast through life. I never had to work a day in my life, but that wasn’t what I wanted. It would be wrong to waste the opportunities my family’s success afforded me.
“So don’t fuck it up,” I murmured to the empty deck.
I had been planning my business for years, really.
B Well Balance. That was the name I’d been working with for my smoothies. But I wanted to work on the packaging and branding. I had a feeling Juno would have some opinions.
I grinned thinking about the arguments coming my way. I looked forward to sparring with her.
The next day, I stared at the screen for what had to be the hundredth time that morning, watching the promotional reel play through again. Something was still off. The transition between the customer testimonials and the product shots felt jarring.
“Toby, can you smooth out that cut at the forty-two-second mark?” I asked, pointing at the screen.
He nodded, pulling his laptop closer. “Yeah, man. I can add a dissolve there instead of the hard cut.”
“Perfect.”
I watched as he made the adjustment, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The kid was good at what he did. I’d hired him fresh out of college. Most twenty-two-year-olds couldn’t frame a shot to save their lives, but Toby had an eye for it.
Better than that, he really was a social media guru. He used the right song clips and trending memes and whatever else the kids were doing.
It worked. His media strategy had put my brand on the map. Now, I needed that strategy to take us to the next level.
And we worked well together because he didn’t complain when I asked him to redo something for the fifth time.
“How’s that?” He hit play on the revised section.
I leaned forward, studying the flow. Better. Definitely better. But not right.
“The music is competing with the voiceover there,” I said. “Can you drop the audio level on the track just a bit? Just a notch or two.”
“On it.”
I grabbed my protein coffee from the desk and took a sip. The reel would be presented to the PriceCo people. Thirty seconds to prove I knew what the hell I was doing.
“Check it now,” Toby said.
I set my coffee down and focused on the screen again. He’d adjusted the audio perfectly. The music supported the message without overwhelming it. The visuals flowed naturally from one segment to the next.
“That’s good,” I said. Then caught myself. “Actually, can we look at the color grading on that product shot? The green looks a little too vibrant. Makes it look artificial.”
Toby pulled up the color correction panel. “Want me to desaturate it?”
“Just a touch.”
He made the adjustment, bringing the color down to something more realistic. More like the shakes actually looked. Authenticity was the key to all of this. People could smell bullshit a mile away.
“Better?” Toby asked.
I studied it critically. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”
“Cool.” He started saving the file. “Want me to export it now?”
“Hold on. Play it again.”
I watched it with the same critical eye. It was solid. But was it perfect?
We spent another twenty minutes making it perfect.
This was why I paid him well. Probably more than most social media managers made right out of college. But he earned every penny. He never half-assed anything.
Plus, he put up with my perfectionist tendencies without complaint.
“Okay,” I said finally, sitting back in my chair. “I think that’s it. That’s the one.”
“You sure?” Toby asked, his finger hovering over the export button. “Because I can stick around if you want to keep tweaking.”
“No, we’re good. Export it.”
“This is going to kill at the meeting,” Toby said. “Seriously. The PriceCo people are going to lose their minds.”
I hoped he was right. This reel was the centerpiece of my pitch. Everything else was just supporting evidence.
“Want me to put it on a thumb drive for you?” Toby asked.
“Yeah. And send me a backup copy to my email just in case.”
“Smart.” He pulled a thumb drive from his bag and plugged it into his laptop.
“I know I made you redo stuff a bunch of times, but it paid off. This is exactly what I needed. Thank you. I know I can be a pain in the ass.”
“That’s what I’m here for, man. We done for today?” Toby asked, already packing up his equipment.
“Yeah, we’re done. Thanks for coming in on short notice.”
“No problem. Just let me know if you need anything else before the meeting.”
I needed to let Juno know what I had. She’d want to review it before the meeting, make sure it aligned with whatever standards Young at Heart had for presentations.
I pulled up my messages and found her contact.
This shouldn’t be complicated. It was just a simple text about business. Completely professional.
So why did my heart rate pick up just thinking about sending it?
I typed out the message: I prepped something for the meeting. Can I drop it off for you tomorrow?
I hit send before I could overthink it any more. I was a flirty guy. Friendly. But with her, I had to keep all that locked down.
The message showed as delivered. Then, after a few seconds, the read receipt appeared.
I waited for a response.