Chapter 16
HOLLIS
Ireached for the button to open the elevator doors, then stopped myself.
“Fuck,” I muttered, finally lowering my hand.
The elevator was moving again, carrying me up to my floor. Each passing number felt like a countdown to my own stupidity becoming real.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. I’d been feeling.
Feeling the spike of jealousy when she’d looked at Sebastian like he hung the moon. Feeling something I didn’t want to think about after enjoying a meal with her that hadn’t felt like a war. It was the pull that had been building since the moment I’d met her, even when she called my product gross.
The doors opened on my floor and I walked out on autopilot, my mind still in that elevator with her.
I’d kissed Juno Young. And she’d kissed me back.
For about thirty glorious seconds before reality had crashed in and she’d looked at me like I’d just set her entire world on fire.
Inside my hotel room, I tossed my suit jacket onto the chair and unbuttoned my shirt a few more buttons. The room felt too small suddenly. Too hot.
I went into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
“You’re an idiot,” I told my reflection. “A complete fucking idiot.”
We’d been making progress. She’d actually complimented me after the meeting.
Had opened up during lunch. She laughed at my jokes instead of rolling her eyes.
For the first time since I’d met her, I’d felt like maybe she had started to see me as something other than a trust fund baby playing entrepreneur.
And then I’d gone and kissed her. In an elevator. Like some kind of horny teenager who couldn’t control himself.
All I could think about was the look on her face when those elevator doors had opened.
Shock. Confusion. Definitely not happiness.
I had fucked up. I’d told myself not to fuck this thing up and I’d gone and done it.
I needed her approval for any future partnerships. Her father had made that crystal clear. She was the one vetting me, deciding whether B Well was a good fit for Young at Heart. And I’d just compromised everything by sticking my tongue in her mouth.
Smooth, Hollis. Real smooth.
I grabbed my phone and stared at it, debating whether to text her. And say what, exactly? Sorry I kissed you?
I wasn’t sorry. Not really. I was only sorry we had to work together, meaning romantic entanglements with her were a bad idea. I tossed the phone onto the bed and resumed pacing.
That kiss had been incredible. Mind-blowing. The kind of kiss that made you forget your own name for a few seconds.
But it was also a massive mistake.
I couldn’t afford to let my personal feelings interfere with business. Working with Young at Heart could help scale up my company without me having to invest billions in building my own bottling facility and hiring staff to run it.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped my head into my hands.
Maybe I should just apologize. Clear the air. Say it was a one-time thing, a moment of weakness, and it wouldn’t happen again.
Except that felt like a lie. Because given the chance, I absolutely wanted to do it again. I could tell her the attraction was real, but I would control myself in the future. That felt honest.
I grabbed my phone and checked the time. We needed to leave for the airport in about an hour. The plane was on standby, ready whenever we were.
I could delay the flight. Give her space. Give us both time to process what had happened before I crammed us into a metal tube thirty-thousand feet in the air.
But at some point, I was going to have to face her again. We had to continue working together. I might as well rip the band-aid off now.
I opened my messages and typed: Leaving for the airport in an hour. Meet in the lobby?
I stared at the message for a long moment before hitting send.
Then I waited. It would be a bad idea to go to her room and knock. I only had so much self-control. The last thing I needed was to get within ten feet of a bed with her.
Maybe she wasn’t going to respond. Knowing her stubborn ass, she’d fly commercial back to LA just to avoid being on a plane with me. If she told her father I made a move on her, he would be the one to kill the deal. The guy protected his daughter like a good father.
My phone chimed.
I grabbed it. It was a single thumbs up emoji. At least she wasn’t ignoring me completely. That was something.
I stood up and started gathering my things. I changed out of the suit and slipped into track pants, a T-shirt, and hoodie.
I had an hour to figure out what the hell I was going to say to her. An hour to come up with some explanation that didn’t make me sound like a complete creep.
I had nothing.
I took the elevator down to the lobby and settled into one of the plush chairs near the entrance where I could see the elevators.
The lobby buzzed with activity around me.
Tourists checking in, businesspeople hurrying through with their rolling suitcases, someone arguing with the concierge about restaurant reservations.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through emails. I still had no idea what the right approach to this disaster was. Cool and casual? Pretend it never happened? Address it head on?
The elevator dinged. My head snapped up.
A family with three screaming kids poured out. Not her. I forced myself to look back at my phone. Another ding announcing the elevator’s arrival.
I looked up and there she was, stepping out of the elevator.
She’d changed. Gone was the green dress that had been driving me insane all day. Now she wore jeans and a simple blouse, her hair pulled back, oversized sunglasses covering half her face even though we were indoors.
The sunglasses were a message. A wall. A very clear “don’t talk to me about what happened.”
I stood up as she approached, grabbing my garment bag.
“Ready?” Her voice was clipped. Professional. Like she was talking to a stranger.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
We walked out to the waiting car in silence. The driver took our bags, and I opened the door for her. She slid in without a word, pressing herself against the far side like I might be contagious. I climbed in after her and immediately regretted everything about this situation.
The drive to the airport felt like it lasted three years. She stared out the window the entire time, those damn sunglasses still on. I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
By the time we reached the hangar, I’d rehearsed and discarded about fifty different opening lines.
None of them felt right. I usually didn’t have a problem talking to women I’d kissed, but I also didn’t usually kiss women I worked with.
Plus, Juno wasn’t just any old woman. She fascinated me in an undeniable way.
We boarded the plane in silence. She took a seat by the window and immediately pulled out her tablet, burying herself in work. Or pretending to. I couldn’t tell with those sunglasses.
I settled into the seat across from her.
The flight attendant came by to do her pre-flight check. “Can I get either of you anything before we take off?”
“I’m fine,” Juno said without looking up.
“Water, thanks,” I said.
As we taxied down the runway, I watched her. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t looked at me once. She slid her ear buds in. All that was missing was the neon sign over her head saying, “fuck off.”
This was exactly why you didn’t shit where you ate. Because now I had to sit here for the next five hours, breathing the same recycled air as someone who clearly wanted to be anywhere but near me.
The plane lifted off, and my stomach dropped. Not from the altitude change. From the crushing realization that I’d probably just destroyed the best business opportunity I’d ever had.
I pulled out my own phone and tried to focus on emails. Toby had sent me the rough cut of some content from yesterday. I watched it with the sound off, not really seeing it.
All I could think about was that kiss.
An hour into the flight, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Juno.”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t even flinch.
“Juno, come on. We need to talk about this.”
Finally, she looked up. Those sunglasses were still on, but I could feel her glare through them.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said.
I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the frustration.
We landed at Van Nuys just after six. I’d debated jumping out somewhere over Utah. Zero words were spoken. I had never endured such a shitty flight. Flying private was all about comfort. That had been the furthest thing from comfortable.
Juno was up and grabbing her bags the second the seatbelt sign turned off. She didn’t wait for me, just headed straight for the exit.
I followed her down the stairs to the tarmac where two cars were waiting. I’d arranged for separate drivers. At least I’d gotten that right.
“That one is for you,” I said, pointing at the black car on the left.
She lifted her sunglasses and looked at me—finally.
“Perfect,” she said and put them right back on.
I watched her climb into her car and disappear down the road.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair.
My driver cleared his throat politely. “Ready, sir?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The drive back to Santa Monica passed in a blur. I stared out the window and decided I would go for a run. The frustration threatened to choke me if I didn’t do something.
By the time we pulled up to my house, it was getting close to nightfall. The driver helped me with my bags, and I tipped him before trudging up the front steps. Then I took my bags to my bedroom and changed into shorts and tennis shoes.
I stretched and jogged down the stairs to the beach. And then I ran. No phone. No music. Just me, the waves, and the sand.
The smart thing would be to back off. Give Juno space. Focus on the business and nothing else. Prove to her through my actions that the kiss was just a moment of weakness. That I could be professional. That the partnership could work despite what happened.
But even as I convinced myself, one little fact kept popping into my head.
She had kissed me back.
It hadn’t been completely one-sided.
And we both knew the kiss had been fire and, given the opportunity, there would be another.