Junk Mail(39)

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” he asks on a growl. “Because it seems like you’re only concerned with keeping her close so you can move in on her.”

Anger threatens to burst out of my throat, but I swallow it. What the hell is Brody’s problem? We’ve been best friends since the first week of college, and we’ve never fought. Not over work, not over women, nada. We’ve been a united front since day one. Of all the times he’s had the chance to get pissy with me, does it really have to be now?

“I believe in this product. The fact that Peyton is the one behind it has nothing to do with it.”

“Bullshit. Prove it, then.”

What does he want me to do? Dance around like a monkey? Dip my balls in hot sauce?

Fuck that. Everything I can think of sounds like it should be happening in a frat house, not our company’s corporate headquarters. There’s only one thing I can think of that will get my point across, and it’s the last thing I want to offer. Unfortunately, I think it’s all I’ve got.

“Fine. Take me off the project.”

The words hang heavy in the air between us. Brody lifts a brow, looking for an explanation.

“Put me on the back end,” I say. “You can be the point of contact with Peyton, and I’ll do the dirty work on the internal side. Budgeting, negotiations with suppliers, all the shit you hate. I won’t even talk to Peyton until the product launch is a massive success.”

The second I realize what just came out of my mouth, I want to immediately take it all back. The idea of totally ghosting on Peyton for the next week is unfair to both of us. But then again, so is the idea of her losing out on this deal.

For better or worse, Brody is clearly interested in my proposition. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest as he considers my offer. “And what if it’s not a massive success? What if it flops and it puts us in the red?”

I gulp down the lump in my throat. “It won’t,” I say matter-of-factly, but that’s not enough of a defense to get Brody off my back.

“Thanks for the security blanket, Hanson, but your opinion doesn’t sell products.” Brody scowls as he swivels his chair back toward his desk, signaling the end of his interest in the conversation.

Bullshit. He’s not just going to turn his back on me like that. Not as my business partner, and certainly not as my best friend.

If we don’t close on this deal, I’ll totally lose Peyton’s trust, and Wine O’Clock will lose its competitive edge for the holiday season. And if Peyton turns around and takes her product to a different company, we’ll lose out to them in terms of profit margins.

I can just imagine her working with one of our competitors, flirting over business meetings and sneaking off together at company events. It makes a vein in my forehead threaten to burst. On every front, I’m relying on this deal. I’m relying on Brody. I’ve got to use whatever last-ditch effort I can.

“How about I make you a deal?” I say.

Brody looks over his shoulder hesitantly, then swivels his chair back toward me, his hands folded neatly in his lap like he’s some kind of mafia boss.

With one last deep breath, I make my pitch. “I do the dirty work. You be the point of contact. And if the launch is a bust, then I’ll delete Peyton’s number for good.”

The offer sends Brody’s eyebrows shooting up to his hairline with surprise. “Holy shit, dude. I said that you were thinking with your dick. I didn’t say you had to swear off this girl altogether.”

“I know,” I say curtly. “And I won’t have to. That’s how confident I am that this product won’t fail.”

That’s it. All my cards are on the table. I’ve offered up the best that I’ve got, even though the very thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. Giving up Peyton would be the biggest mistake of my life, but it’s a mistake I won’t have to make. There’s not a doubt in my mind that her launch will be a huge success.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

I extend a hand toward Brody and he eyes it momentarily, then clasps it with his own. One firm handshake, and I’ve made yet another dangerous deal. One I know I could never keep, and I sure as hell hope that I won’t have to.





Chapter Twenty-One


Peyton



In the few short weeks that Josh and I have known each other, I didn’t realize how much he’s become a part of my daily routine. Whether we’re meeting to discuss the details of our professional collaboration, or flirting via text after business hours, we’ve been constantly connected since the day I received that misdirected sext from him. Come to think of it, there hasn’t been a single day since we met that he and I haven’t checked in with each other.

At least, not until now.

Since my rushed exit from his apartment yesterday morning, I haven’t heard a word from Josh. He hasn’t replied to my texts, or even acknowledged the work-related emails I’ve copied him on. It’s crazy how less than a month ago, I didn’t even know this man existed. Now I go a day and a half without hearing from him, and I start to worry that he’s fallen off the edge of the earth.

Maybe the silence wouldn’t hurt quite so much had Josh and I not slept together for the first time less than forty-eight hours ago. I’ve had guys ghost on me after we’ve hooked up, but Josh doesn’t seem like the type. And even if he is that kind of guy, we’re going to be spending the next week together in the office pulling all-nighters to prepare for this launch. It’s kind of hard to avoid someone when they’re a foot away from you at a conference table.