25. Breaking news, I want more
CHAPTER 25
brEAKING NEWS, I WANT MORE
CHARLIE
“ H ey, while you’re out, can you see if they’ve got the will to live? I can’t find mine.”
I’ve spent the last hour arguing with a hothead in Subsea who needs seven hundred documents transmitted to a vendor but wants it done in a way so shoddy that Nixon would have given it the green light.
I’m one step away from cc’ing his boss in a reply that starts with Go and ends with every curse word I know, including a few in dead languages.
“I suppose you think you’re cute,” Emma says.
“I know I am, and more than that, I know you do too.”
She smiles as she shakes her head. She does that now—smiles at me. I shouldn’t get used to it; this arrangement has a shelf life. I know better than to get attached, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to collect every smile I can.
It’s bad enough that every taste of Emma only makes me hungrier. Feasting on her isn’t enough. I want to know her.
Why is it her parents live in that big house while Emma’s crammed into a tiny box? They clearly get along.
Why is she chasing Logan, who has as much depth as a kiddie pool, when she could run circles around him?
How long before she comes to her senses and throws me to the curb?
She shrugs, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of adorable… when you’re not mouthing off.”
I throw my head back with a laugh. Fuck, I love it when she lets loose. What I would give to crack her shell the rest of the way.
“Coffee?” she asks.
“Please.”
This is our routine now. Smiles and coffees, early mornings and long afternoons, listening before reacting. Small steps toward understanding.
She’s back in the time it takes to send my actual response to the hothead, which is so safe it could babysit a toddler. Some days I really hate my job.
“I thought we rolled out a request form to all the DC teams,” Emma says, peering over my shoulder. Today she smells like dessert and luxury and midnight trysts on thousand-dollar sheets. I want to bury my nose in her neck and never leave.
I lean back in my chair, getting closer to her and that addictive scent. “Digital did. But I know these guys, and making them fill out fifteen fields on a form every time they have a request will only piss them off. So we never implemented it.”
There’s a long, deep breath and release. It’s her go-to move when she wants to argue with me but is holding her tongue.
“Okay,” she finally says, and I can practically see her mind working in real time. This is her in project mode. It’s a sexy look on her. “So, you’re what? Individually recording every request in the report?”
Lips pressed together, I nod. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”
Of course she does. She’s a fountain of good ideas.
“I might.” Called it.
I can’t help but grin. “You mean you do . Don’t be afraid to own it.”
A blush brightens her cheeks, and thank you, I’ll take that win.
When she points to my laptop with a brow raised in question, I wave her forward. She gets to work, and I know better than to interrupt, so I simply sit back and enjoy my second favorite Emma-related activity. I watch.
“What if we automated it?” she asks, not looking away from the screen. There’s a cute little crease forming between her brows.
“At least twice a day, you threaten to strangle your mouse, and yet you’re always coming back to automation. When the great robot uprising happens, I can’t work out whether they’ll hate you or love you.”
“Maybe my mouse likes to be choked,” she says so seriously I stop breathing.
“I’m putting a pin in that, but you better believe we’ll be circling back later,” I say.
The smile that spreads across her face is so bright it lights up the whole damn floor. She’s becoming seriously dangerous for my control.
I sit forward, needing to divert this back to work before I do something stupid. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Emma turns to face me, propping herself up against my desk. It wouldn’t take much to pull her into my lap, and I grip the armrests to stop myself from giving into temptation.
“There’s a way to run a bot over the inbox. It won’t process anything, but it’ll save you from having to log it yourself. It’s already running over the Digital inbox, so we should be able to implement it without needing any extra budget. I’ll email the team to find out.”
If that’s true, it’ll save the team hundreds of man hours. No wonder corporate loves her.
“Have dinner with me.”
“Charlie,” she sighs.
“One meal. I promise to be a gentleman.”
She arches a brow. “That’d be a first.”
Fuck. I can’t get enough of her.
“You’re right. I’m lying. But can you blame me? A man’s got to use everything in his arsenal when it comes to a beautiful woman.”
There’s no response except for a roll of her eyes, but there’s no hiding the faint blush that’s spread over her cheeks. Bingo.
“I’ll think about it.”
Fuck. There it is.
That smile could tempt me to commit any number of sins.
An hour later, a guy with a floppy haircut and a dismissive attitude stares down at Emma like she just asked him to sing “Rainbow Connection” at karaoke. “You needed something?”
The way her shoulders cave makes my blood boil. Who is this guy?
“Yes,” she says, her tone far more polite than I would be. “I was telling Charlie about the bot you built for the inbox?—”
“And?”
Okay, fuck him.
I round the desk, holding back my frustration. “Hey, man. Charlie.” I hold out a hand. “Didn’t catch your name.”
The moment he clocks the suit, his attitude changes, and he shakes my hand with a smile. Yeah, I definitely don’t like him. “Hey. Landon. Nice to meet you. You were in Ops, right? I did a rotation there when I was a grad. Too much pressure for me.”
Less than three feet away, Emma’s back at work as though this clown didn’t just disrespect her. As if this kind of shit happens every day.
Which.
Fuck. It probably does.
My heart cracks under the thought. It wasn’t so long ago that I was giving her attitude, jabs weighted with assumptions I’d made about her, along with the baggage of my own life.
And she handled it, handled me, without backing down. Still does. I’ve always respected that about her. She’s tougher than she looks, but she shouldn’t need to be.
“So you’re interested in the bot, huh?” he asks. “Our team calls him Benedict. Kind of an inside joke. But I can set something up for you. No problems.”
He says it like it’s a favor. Bro to bro. No problems.
Seems like there were plenty of problems a few seconds ago, when Emma was the one asking.
“Yeah, sounds great, thanks.”
I’ll smile and play nice for now, because if Emma’s right about this thing, it’ll save me hours of work. But I’ve got a long memory and a shit list, and Landon just shot up to the top ten.
We finally nail down a spot in Baxter’s calendar. After the fourth decline, I made a personal visit to Kamile to sell her on the changes. It was clear by then that the only way we’d make this happen was with her help. It only took an hour after that for him to accept.
Now we’re facing our first uphill battle.
Emma wanted more time. The Engineering VP is notoriously stubborn, and getting an early win under our belt would make facing him a little easier, but I know people, especially the ones working under him, and once Baxter champions the cause, good luck going against him.
We get him? We’ve already won.
The hard part is selling him on it.
“You’re proposing we remove critical engineering information from the Standard.”
Beside me, Emma’s knee is jumping under the table.
“I’m proposing that engineering information be housed in an engineering-specific document, one that sits underneath and is referenced by the standard but that isn’t muddied with rules for Corporate documentation.”
He leans back, crosses his arms. This is a man not easily persuaded. “By removing it.”
Emma’s expression might as well be cast in bronze. It gives nothing away. “Yes.”
Once upon a time, I thought her cold, as unchanging as Baxter here. In reality, she’s full of warmth. Burning with it. The ice queen act is just that. A defense. And I can’t blame her for it. When she’s being challenged at every step, why wouldn’t she learn to give nothing away?
The fact that she lets herself be vulnerable with me is a miracle.
He checks his watch, and we’re running out of time to convince him. “I fail to understand why Digital wants to create more procedural documents when we already have too many, and no one can understand half of them anyway. In addition, it sounds as though this new document will be so void of actual detail that it’s largely useless.”
Kamile and I share a weary look. He means well, but damn, can he be an ass about it.
“The new standard will set a precedent definition of the levels of information that are stored across the organization, regardless of source. What it will do is ensure all the relevant engineering information is in one place, without the noise of rules that only apply to Projects or Corporate.”
Baxter leans forward, elbows on the table. The blue jeans and Helix branded polo he’s wearing are no match for his serious tone. “Why can’t we merge it all and keep it in separate sections?”
“We could,” I say, because even though Emma looks calm, she hasn’t taken a breath in the last twenty seconds. “But then the standard would be a hundred pages long and need to be updated with every new capital project. What happens when you need to review the contractor deliverable codes? I know for a fact that list is updated regularly, but a standard that includes Corporate rules would need to be reviewed by every major function head, and by the time it’s accepted, a new change would be ready.”
As expected, he hates that idea.
“Alternatively,” Emma starts, her calm voice clashing with the head tilt of doom. “We follow my original suggestion.”
Kamile’s eyes dance, but she hides her smile well.
“Another benefit to that solution,” Emma adds, “would be a single engineering-focused procedure that can spell out contractor requirements so clearly there’s no room for misinterpretation. You’d be able to mandate delivery according to each contract and track which version of the procedure a vendor is subject to.”
Is it too early to pledge fealty?
Damn.
“It’s a good solution,” Kamile agrees. “One of our longest-standing hurdles has been fighting with Projects when they want to deviate from the process. I’m assuming this change will require them to establish their own internal procedure if they go that way.”
It’s a question I answered for her last week, and it’s clear her butt-in is the last nail we need. “One that requires Ops and Engineering approval, yes.”
Jeremy silently mulls it over, but he can take all day for all I care. It won’t change anything. Emma’s served up the best option, and like I knew it would, this workshop has proven that.
Beside him, Kamile nods her agreement, and then time’s up.
Come on, man. Make the right decision.
“Given the points you’ve raised, it appears that the change you’ve proposed is the best way forward.”
Without another word, he stands and leaves, with Kamile not far behind.
I have to contain my reaction until Emma and I are alone.
When she drops her face into her hands, I worry I’ve pushed her too far. Fuck. I should have listened to her, agreed to the meeting with Operations instead. That’s the easiest win we’ve got. Rory already gets an earful of my praise for her when we catch up each week. I think he’d be happy to finally meet her.
I’m gearing up a pep talk when she squeals into her palms. It’s a sound I remember all too well from the day Reese got her acceptance letter for school, and I’ll be damned if I’m not a little proud right now.
Reese can never find out. There’s no reason to worry that the sight of Emma’s beaming smile and the relief in her eyes moves the ground under me.
Fuck.
“Did you see that?” She slaps a hand on her thighs, brimming with so much energy it’s almost blinding. Yet I can’t look away. “I can’t believe we actually convinced him. I’ve never won an argument with Engineering before. Baxter’s always terrified me.”
“You did,” I correct. I’m pretty sure there’s a firework going off somewhere in my ribs right now.
“Hmm?”
“You convinced him,” I repeat, leaning in, mesmerized by her smile. “I was just the pretty assistant.”
Her smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it. “Holy shit. I did, didn’t I?”
She’s glowing. It’s hard to look away from her on a good day, but it’s downright impossible now. It’s better than if I’d done it myself. Better than sex.
Witnessing her brilliance is a high I may never recover from. Because where do I go from here? The way her mind works, seeing the forest while I’m busy fielding emails from the trees, is a rush.
I’m not remotely mad that I had nothing to do with this win, because it’s so much more satisfying to add fuel to her fire.
Self-immolation never felt so good.
“Come on, this will still be here in the morning.”
“What?”
“Pack up. I’m buying you dinner. Let’s celebrate.”
“Charlie.”
“Do you need a Teams invite? Come on. I’m starving, and you’re beautiful. Let’s go sit near each other and eat.”
“I can buy my own dinner.”
“Not this time.”
She looks like she wants to shove me a little, and I definitely want her to.
I guess I’m just cold-blooded, chasing the spark in her eyes as she pushes back. Anything to have her light aimed in my direction.
“This doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Don’t lie. You think I’m adorable.”
Her laughter is a balm.