Junk Mail(27)

“You’re right.” I hate to admit it, although it doesn’t stop me from snuggling up to him a little tighter. I don’t want to let go just yet.

He gives me one last hug, and then calls out a good-bye to Gram.





Chapter Sixteen


Josh



If you’re looking for the quickest way to feel like the world’s biggest prick, here’s my advice: take a girl away from her recently hospitalized grandmother and drag her on a business trip upstate.

Insta-douchebag. It works like a charm. Trust me, I know from experience.

I’ve offered Peyton a hundred different options that would allow her to stay home with Gram as she recovers from her fall. We can video conference her into our meetings, or even reschedule the trip altogether.

But Peyton insists on going, saying that she won’t let anything stand in the way of her pitching her subscription boxes to our wine-country store managers. That woman is unstoppable. It’s a major turn-on. And since she insists that Gram will be fine without her, I relent.

In an effort to make myself look like slightly less of an asshole, I offer to drive Peyton to the airport to save her on gas and parking. I’m thrilled when she takes me up on it. It’s the least I can do to make this last-minute trip a little easier on her.

Plus, I like the idea of a little one-on-one time with Peyton before we spend the whole weekend acting professional in front of Brody and Toby. Emphasis on acting. I deserve an Academy Award for pretending I’m not instantly rock hard every time those brilliant blue eyes look my way.

“How is Gram? You’re totally sure she’s okay for the weekend?”

I’ve been genuinely worried about Peyton’s feisty grandmother ever since she fell last week. Peyton has kept me as apprised as a coworker needs to be. Maybe a bit more, since I told her the ambulance is going on my insurance. Maybe she doesn’t realize that my concern for her and Gram runs much deeper than our professional relationship. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and I’ve been wondering if Gram’s age and health are weighing on Peyton’s mind.

But Peyton nods, her thick brown ponytail bobbing along. She looks so damn cute and comfy in her oversized denim jacket and leggings. It’s probably the only time this weekend I’ll see her in anything other than pencil skirts and heels, and I’m torn as to which version of her is sexier.

“Gram will be totally fine. She’s already recovering super well.”

“That’s good to hear. She’s obviously a very strong woman.”

Peyton nods again, and I wonder if she’s trying to convince me or herself. “Plus, her boyfriend, Duncan from the senior center, volunteered to play nurse for the weekend.”

I stifle a chuckle as I flip on my turn signal, veering toward the airport parking garages. Of course Gram has a senior-citizen love interest. I should have known. It figures that some dude over twice my age is getting more consistent action than I am.

And for the record, that won’t be changing this weekend. It’s going to be a serious test of willpower to keep my hands to myself with Peyton staying in the same hotel as me. There’s so much riding on these pitches this weekend, and it wouldn’t serve either of us well to be distracted. Which is why I took action ahead of time by booking us rooms on different floors, on opposite ends of the hotel. Might as well set myself up for success, right?

I guess Peyton really can read my thoughts, because just then, she stops nervously twirling her ponytail and asks the question that’s on my mind. “So we’re going to, um, behave ourselves this weekend, right?”

I nod firmly. “The second we step onto that plane, we’re on a business trip. I want your product launch to run smoothly, so yes, it will be one hundred percent business. No shenanigans. I promise I’ll behave myself this weekend.” Then I give her a sideways glance. “Will you?”

“Yes, of course I will,” she says, answering almost too quickly. “Nothing but my best behavior all weekend.”

I have to wonder if she’s talking to me or to herself. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re both on the same page. It’s the only choice.

Parking is no problem in the enormous airport lot. Security, on the other hand, is an absolute beast and a half. Somehow, the famously slow TSA line is moving at a pace that would make a snail look like an Olympic track star. When we finally get to our gate and meet up with the guys, the sigh of relief that comes out of Brody is almost loud enough to drown out the sound of planes taking off.

“Holy fuck, I thought you were going to miss the flight.”

Toby clears his throat and tilts his head toward Peyton. “Language, Brody!”

“Oh. I mean holy crap,” Brody says. “I mean holy . . . sorry, pardon my French, Peyton.”

Peyton snickers, waving off Brody’s apology. “I don’t give a shit.”

That gets a collective laugh from the group and takes the tension out of our shoulders, thank God. We don’t need to bring any extra anxiety into what’s already going to be a stressful trip. And not to make it a competition, but it’s going to be a little extra stressful for the guy trying to keep his libido on lockdown.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Brody says to Peyton, extending his hand.

I forgot that they haven’t actually met in person, only via phone call.