More Than I Could (49)

“What’s the winter theme?”

“Frost.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “We went with Frost.”

“That’s …”

“It’s uninspired, that’s what it is. It’s basic and unoriginal.”

The oven timer beeps. I shut it off and remove a sheet of cookies. “I can’t disagree. We ruled out Frost as a concept nearly every year. Why did you choose to go that direction now?”

“Oh, I don’t know anymore. Our creative team struggles to fine inspiration. They have virtually no ear to the ground, so to speak. They’re flat and one-dimensional. I don’t know if you saw the marketing materials for winter, but they were absolutely boring, Megan.”

I jump at a sound behind me. Chase walks through the door holding two pizzas. He gives me a sideways smile that makes my knees weak.

“Dorothy, can I put you on hold for a moment, please?”

“Of course.”

I tap the mute button.

“I didn’t know you were on the phone,” Chase says, putting the pizzas on the table.

“It’s fine. My old job is calling me to tell me how much they miss me, I think.”

Chase’s eyes darken.

“Did you pick up Kennedy?” My chest tightens. “She’s still at Neve’s. She told me you would get her on the way home.”

“I did tell her that,” he says, running a hand over his head. “But I forgot it was Neve’s birthday today, and she’s having a few girls stay the night. I already told Kennedy she could stay.”

My brows shoot to the ceiling. You mean, we’re alone?

He holds my gaze so long that I shiver.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he says. “And whatever you just baked smells great.”

“Cookies.”

He grins and walks to the mudroom. The lock clicks in place.

A breath of air rushes from my lungs as I hit the mute button again. “I’m sorry, Dorothy. I’m back.”

“I won’t take up much more of your time. But I’m calling to gauge your interest in coming back to us.”

I still.

“This is probably the moment that I admit we were wrong to let you go,” she says. “You have a knack for this industry that is dreadfully missing from our team, and we need you, Megan. We need you desperately.”

What?

“Well,” I say carefully, “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting this. And I have a lot of questions and … wow. This is just very unexpected.”

“I understand. How about this—would you like to email me a list of questions so you can sit down and pull your thoughts together?”

I nod. “Yes. That would be helpful.”

“You have my contact information, and I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, and Megan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m serious. If you have competing offers or have taken another position, I’ll match salaries. I need you.”

I slow blink, blindsided by her admission. “Okay. I’ll email you next week.”

“Have a good weekend,” she says.

“You, too. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

I end the call and stand frozen in place. “What just happened?”

The door swings open, and Chase walks in clad in a pair of gray sweatpants sans shirt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he knows exactly what he’s doing.

I turn away before I drool and take out two plates, glasses, and a Sprite. I hold up a beer, offering it to Chase. He nods and picks up the pizzas.

“You know,” I say, following him into the living room. “I thought we said no lingerie.”

He puts the pizzas on the ottoman. “Huh. I don’t remember that one. Why? Do you want to break out something sexy tonight?”

“Uh, no. Maybe I lumped it in with no cleavage.”

He looks at his chest. “Yeah, well, I don’t have any of that, so I’m good.”

“Gray sweatpants are men’s lingerie. Everyone knows that.”

He snorts, opening the boxes. “Who made up that bullshit?”

“Not me, but I concur.”

Slowly, he stands and runs a hand down his abs. He smirks. “Want me to change?”

“I do not.” I put a slice of pizza on my plate, not looking at Chase, and then sit at one end of the couch. “Fridays are pizza and movies. Is that right?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can go to my room and hang out—give you some space. Or I can even take your mom’s car and—”

“Respectfully, hush.” He grins. “You’re not going anywhere. Eat your pizza and relax.”

“Yes, sir.”

He rolls his tongue around his mouth but doesn’t say anything.

After grabbing a couple of pieces of pizza and his beer, he sits on the other side of the sofa. He hands me the remote, giving me a look not to argue with him, then gets comfortable.

I have no idea what to watch. So instead, I decide to talk.

“Guess who I had lunch with today?” I say before taking a bite.