Junk Mail

by Kendall Ryan

  Shit, it’s morning already? Eight thirty a.m., to be exact. I should have been in the office half an hour ago, at the latest.

  I spring out of bed and lunge for my phone, picking it up on the last ring. “Hello, this is Josh.”

  “Damn straight, it better be Josh.” It’s Brody. But not just any Brody. An incredibly pissed-off Brody. “I don’t know who the hell else would have this phone. But then again, who knows with you lately?”

  I scrub my hand through my hair, trying to wrap my head around what he means by that blow. I decide not to acknowledge it.

  “Sorry, I overslept. I was beat from the trip this weekend. But I’ll be in as soon as I can, I promise.”

  By this point, Peyton is half awake, looking at me curiously through hooded eyes. She looks so fucking cute with her hair all messy from a good night’s sleep.

  I wish I could crawl back into bed with her and treat her to some morning sex. But I don’t have time for that, as much as it pains me. I need to get to the office and get my shit together for her product launch.

  “Whatever. See you soon.” Brody doesn’t even wait for a response before hanging up.

  I sigh, throwing my phone onto the bed and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. There are a lot of ways I would have liked to wake up this morning. This sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

  “Who was that?” Peyton asks, blinking against the sun seeping in through the blinds.

  “Brody, wondering where I am. I overslept, and we have a ton of work to do before we launch your boxes next week. I need to get a move on, or I think he might bite my head off the second I step through the office doors.”

  She turns toward the clock to confirm what I told her. It’s 8:35 already. I need to book it if I’m going make it to the office before ten.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” Peyton mutters, climbing out of bed to find her things.

  Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant.

  “Don’t say that,” I say. “I’m so glad you came. Please don’t make this out to be your fault. It’s not the end of the world that I’m a little late to the office.”

  “That’s not the point.” Her voice catches in her throat. “The point is that I’m standing in the way of business getting done. We said we’d keep things professional, and then we didn’t. And now I’m getting in the way of your work, and Brody’s upset, and . . . and where are my clothes?”

  “In the living room. I’ll get them.” I start for the door, but she stops me before I get there.

  “I’ve got it. You need to get ready for work.”

  I sigh. She’s right, but I don’t want to admit that. Work is important, but so is making sure Peyton doesn’t walk out of my door feeling like we made a mistake.

  “Fine. But no leaving until I can call you a ride home, all right?”

  She nods in agreement, then slips out the door to find her clothes. I call for an Uber, then speed shower the smell of sex off of me, brush my teeth, and throw on whatever work clothes I can find that aren’t dirty from our trip. All in record time.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m ready to go. Peyton’s waiting for me by the door, her jacket on and purse draped over her shoulder. She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, having left the shirt I lent her folded up on the coffee table.

  “Hang on to that for me.” I nod toward the shirt as I pull on my jacket. “It looks good on you.”

  She scrunches her brow at me, so I pick up the shirt myself and slip it into her purse. Lucky for me, she doesn’t put up a fight about it. I imagine her wearing it to bed at night. A little bit of me she can slip on and remember our night together. I like the thought.

  “Your ride is about here,” I say, checking my phone for the driver’s location. “I’m sorry I can’t drive you myself. Are you going to be okay?”

  Peyton looks down at her cuticles, picking at them nervously. “Let’s just make sure we talk about this later, okay? About all of this?”

  She gestures to the space between us, and I immediately close it, bringing my lips to her cheek for several soft, short kisses.

  “Of course. We’ll talk things through later. Just don’t waste your time feeling guilty, all right?” I press my thumb into the dimple in her chin, tilting her head until her gaze meets mine. “Because you? Last night? That was all worth it to me.”

  Her smile is slight, but it’s still a smile. And I’ll take what I can get.

  Chapter Twenty

  Josh

  The second I step into the office, I can tell something is up. It’s way quieter than it should be first thing in the morning, and there’s a weird uneasiness hanging in the air that hits me straight in the gut. This isn’t the friendly office environment that I’ve worked hard to build over the past couple of years. Everyone seems way on edge. Even Irene, the always-cheery receptionist, looks like she’s just seen a ghost.

  “Irene, what’s going on?” I hang up my coat, double-checking that there’s not a monster in the closet terrorizing my usually upbeat staff.

  She gives me the slightest smile. “Oh, nothing,” she says, but her eyes, which are wide and worried behind her red-framed glasses, tell a much different story. When I frown at her, she gives me the truth in a whisper. “I think you should go check on Brody. He’s been on a tirade this morning.”

  Ah, fuck. A grumpy Brody is the last thing we need today. We’re this close from having things up and running for Peyton’s big launch next week, but we need every second of work time to make it happen.

  I give Irene a grateful nod for the tip, then head toward my partner’s office. He’s hunched over his desk, his hands tapping at jet speed across his keyboard and his eyes glued to the screen.

  I rap on the open door with my knuckles just to get his attention. “Hey, dude, everything all right?”

  He greets me with a stare so pointed, it could knock me right over. “No, not everything is all right. You’re an hour and thirty fucking minutes late.”

  “Whoa. I’m planning on staying late today, okay?” I hold up my hands in front of me in defense. “No need to sweat it. I’ve got it under control. We’re gonna get everything done for this Wish Upon a Gift launch.”

  A gruff sound of discontent rumbles in the back of Brody’s throat. “We’re not doing the Wish Upon a Gift launch, Josh. It’s off.”

  My stomach ties itself into a knot that would leave even a top-tier Boy Scout impressed. “What the fuck do you mean, it’s off?”

  Stepping deeper into the office, I slowly close the door behind me. Brody’s mood has already left the office in a weird state. I don’t want to make it worse by letting anyone overhear this shit. Especially since I’m having a hard time keeping my own volume down.

  “It’s off,” Brody says. “Done. Kaput. I’m drafting the memo about it now. This product isn’t right for our company. Our trip upstate made that abundantly clear.”

  I take a deep, cleansing breath, urging Brody to do the same, then settle into the chair opposite from him. “This is coming out of left field. I know you’re in charge of new business, but our trip upstate went just fine. The store managers were all over the idea of a new product. We’re going to take Peyton’s company to the next level with this product launch.”

  “Sure we will.” Brody scoffs. “If our point of contact with the potential client can stop thinking with his dick.”

  My stomach is now at least triple-knotted. “The fuck did you just say?”

  “You think we didn’t notice?” Brody’s voice cuts through the air with a sternness I’ve never heard from him. “The way she just had to ride with you everywhere on our trip upstate? And you were practically eye-fucking her in every meeting we had. I’m surprised none of the store managers said anything about it.”

  “Probably because they were too focused on her actual pitch.” I do my best to keep my cool, but I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at him. I can’t believe he would pull shit like this so late in the deal. “It’s a good
product, Brody. You should know, you’re the one who found her company and wanted to work with her in the first place. And we both know we’re fucked if we drop this deal now. We need something new to market around the holidays if we’re going to stay competitive.”

  “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.

  As the elevator dings and opens on the Wine O’Clock offices, I step out onto the merlot-colored carpet and head straight for Josh’s office. Brody probably put him on expense-report duty after he rolled in late yesterday. A giggle slips from my lips as I imagine him drowning under a gigantic pile of receipts and spreadsheets. That would certainly explain why he’s been MIA.

  I knock twice on Josh’s office door, turning the handle when I get no immediate response. Instead of being greeted by Josh’s knockout smile like usual, there’s nothing to see here but the blue glow of a computer screen.

  He’s not here.

  I pull up my phone calendar, verifying that we do, in fact, have a meeting today. Yup. Two p.m., finalization of online marketing campaigns.

  It should be a quick one, considering all the hours Josh and I have already put in with the marketing team. I would be out of here in an hour, if Josh were actually on time. What’s his deal with running late lately?

  There’s no point in sitting here in his empty office, so I head toward the conference room to settle in for our meeting. Most of the marketing team is already there, setting up a presentation of the finalized ads. At the head of the table, where Josh would normally sit, Brody is furiously shuffling through a stack of print ads, entirely oblivious to my entrance.

  “Good morning,” I say, and Brody looks up.

  “Oh, good, right on time.” He stands to hand me a stack of materials to review, then returns to his seat and his stack of paperwork. “We’ll get started in just a minute.”

  Just a minute? Doesn’t he realize we’re still missing a crucial part of the team? If he’s not going to broach the subject, I will.

  “Where’s Josh?” I scan the room, expecting him to come walking in any second now, coffee in hand, a bright smile on his gorgeous face. And after yesterday’s fiasco, he’d better not be late again.

  Brody loosens the knot of his tie as he opens his laptop, dodging my eye contact. “Josh is no longer the point of contact for you for this project.”

  I flinch in surprise. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ll be working with me instead of Josh from here up through the launch.” Brody’s tone is so matter-of-fact, like he’s ch
atting about his commute instead of throwing a major curveball my way.

  No more working with Josh? I’m equal parts confused and heartbroken. The thought of not working with Josh, not getting to watch the way his eyes dance when he comes up with a good idea or intentionally presses my knee against his during a meeting, leaves a hollow feeling in my chest.

  “When was that change made?”

  I know I’m at risk of sounding a little too interested in the subject, but I think I deserve to know, even just from a professional standpoint. Up until now, Josh has been my go-to guy for everything. He’s handled all my contracts and negotiations, right down to reaching out to me for input on the packaging design. Brody has been more of a big-picture, behind-the-scenes type of guy. A change this major with only a week left until launch seems unnecessary, at the least, and risky at most.

  “We made the swap yesterday morning,” Brody says.

  The words ring in my ears. Yesterday morning. As in right after I left Josh’s place. There’s no way that’s just a coincidence.

  “Any particular reason?”

  The knot in my stomach is getting bigger and bigger by the second. I couldn’t live with myself if I found out that Josh got cut from working with me because I made him late.

  Brody smiles through his obvious annoyance with me. “Josh came in and asked to be taken off the launch, so I went ahead and made the change. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Of course not,” I sputter, maybe a bit too quickly. “I was just curious. It’s a big switch this close to the launch. But I understand.”

  What a big fat lie. I understand nothing. This makes as much sense to me as quantum physics. Why the hell would Josh specifically ask not to work with me? And more importantly, why didn’t he mention this to me himself?

  I’m tempted to give Brody the third degree and get to the bottom of this, but one more question out of me might tip him off that something’s going on. Instead, I zip my lips and take a seat at the conference table, filing this away as a problem to deal with later. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover in this meeting. And my broken heart and bruised ego over a man ghosting on me after sex isn’t something I can deal with at this precise moment.