Cream of the Crop (Hudson Valley, #2)(74)
“Why are you asking me? You know Dan decides that,” I said, twisting in my seat, trying to find the itch that just wouldn’t stop.
“Yeah, but you’re Dan today.”
“Pardon?” I asked, half listening to her as I grabbed a pen and tried to use that on my back.
“Dan is out sick, so you’re running the meeting today. Did you know that your dress is on inside out?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He sent an email last night saying that he’s out with the flu, and you’d be running things today and possibly tomorrow—”
The air left the room.
“He attached all the accounts for you to review—”
My entire body went rigid and cold.
“—and if you could make sure that Wool job goes to me, but don’t make it look like it was mine all along, you know, that’d be awesome . . .”
It was strange, being able to breathe with no air in the room. And I was breathing. Heavily.
“And you should fix your dress since the meeting’s in five minutes. See you in there . . . boss.” She winked and was gone.
No worries. No worries at all. I could cram a day’s worth of work reviewing these accounts into five minutes.
Actually, four. Because my dress is on inside out.
Bad week. Bad, bad, bad week.
Liz got the campaign she wanted, because I didn’t have a clue who else to give it to. I’d missed the email that Dan had sent the entire group, as well as missing the email that he’d sent just to me Sunday afternoon. In this age of smartphones and everywhere Wi-Fi, it simply wasn’t possible to lie to your boss about not getting an email. Unless you weren’t checking your email because you were too busy.
But when the tongue and the coming and then the fingers and the screaming and the oh my, that was unexpected but awesome, can you do that exactly the same way again . . . Things like phone chargers tend to go by the wayside.
So I refocused. I spent the week getting caught up on the work that was beginning to slip. Phone messages were falling through the cracks, my in-box was beyond full, and I might have missed a deadline on the T&T campaign.
Word got back to Dan that I’d been unprepared for the Monday meeting, and I had to sit in his office when he returned and listen to him artfully ask me questions designed to find out if anything was going on outside of the office that might be affecting what was going on inside of the office. Nothing had officially happened, except for one slightly late deadline. But I’d always delivered everything on time or early, and I was never behind on emails or phone calls. He seemed reassured—but there might’ve been a hint of What the hell is happening to my number-one account exec . . .
I buckled down, worked twelve-hour days, and by Friday I was back on top of the pile, work completed ahead of schedule. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d fallen behind, which for me was unheard of. Technically nothing was really late, because I routinely had my work done ahead of schedule. But for me, I felt very behind.
Oscar and I had been texting some throughout the week, in the few moments when I surfaced. I tried to keep my focus on work entirely, which was so hard to do when my mind kept flying up the Metro North to a town where leaves were crunchy underfoot, jack-o’-lanterns gave way to November pumpkin and squash arrangements, and my handsome farmer was sending me messages like:
I miss your mouth
I miss your taste
Get your great big comma ass back up here so I can bite it
Oscar was coming in for the whole weekend—a first! Technically he came into the city every Saturday—but this time he was spending the night.
Friday night I stayed at the office until nine thirty, then finally headed home. There was a new club opening that I’d RSVP’d to, and a birthday party being held at one of my favorite restaurants uptown. But by the time I climbed the subway steps, all I wanted to do was soak in a tub. And eat Malaysian takeout, which I did at eleven, while soaking in that tub.
The delivery boy said he’d missed me.
Saturday morning dawned clear and cold, the stiff wind making my coat swirl as I made my way down Fourteenth Street. I’d told Oscar I’d arrive early, and my feet burned to skip across the market when I caught sight of his booth.
Carefully carrying two coffees, I moved through the throngs of early marketers to cut in line at Bailey Falls Creamery, which was already about twenty deep.
As I searched for Oscar, nodding to the salesgirls I’d actually come to know by now, I felt my skin begin to tingle. I smiled even before I turned.
“Thought you were coming early,” a deep voice said.
“Oh, I came early. At home, in my bed, alone,” I purred. “You should have been there—I was magnificent.”
His eyes narrowed as he imagined exactly what I’d been up to this morning. It was true, too. I was wound so tightly in anticipation of seeing him I’d taken care of business twice before heading to the market. I needed to take the edge off, but it’d only made me more excited to see him. Even now, as he stepped closer to me, I could feel my body begin to hum at having him near.
“I believe it,” he whispered, leaning down to place his mouth next to my ear. “I came all over my hand this morning, thinking about seeing you today.”
I shivered. He quivered. And all around us, people waited to buy cheese.