I need to say something. Talk, Flint. Now.
“That was your training plan, wasn’t it,” I say, framing it like a question even though it absolutely isn’t one. When those blue-gray eyes flick up to meet my gaze, I can’t help but smile when a blush fills her cheeks. Just like during the meeting. “It’s just you and me, Grossy. You can tell me the truth.”
Her nose wrinkles at the old nickname and I chuckle which brings that fiery temper to the surface in a flash. “You know how much I hated that name, right?”
“Oh, I remember, but you were being so quiet I figured it was the best way to get you talking.” Winking at her, I lean back against the wall of the elevator to avoid the urge to touch her again. “Plus, you called me Flintstone, so… fair is fair, right?”
“Fine, but I still hate it.” Brinnah rolls her eyes and I laugh as the elevator slows at one of the lower floors. When the doors open a few people get in, and I’m actually glad they did because it forces her to move closer to me.
“Good morning, Mr. Etheridge,” one of the guys in a suit says, and that instantly silences whatever conversation the trio had in-progress when they stepped on. All three of my employees stare at me and I offer a polite smile.
“Good morning. Having a good day so far?”
“Yes, sir,” the man answers, followed quickly by similar affirmations from the other man and the woman. I have no idea who they are, but everyone in the building makes the company run and I try to be nice and seem approachable. Still, they always look like panicked deer when they see me.
If they knew I used to be short and awkwardly skinny and called ‘Flintstone’ they’d probably be a lot less awestruck.
When I glance over at Brinnah she’s clearly trying to suppress a grin, and that makes mine resurface. I nudge her a bit and when she looks up, I mouth the word ‘sorry’ and she shrugs. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me feel more normal than I have in a decade.
The elevator finally dings for the lobby, and as the doors open my employees wave me out first, which I’m not going to argue. I want to get Brinnah alone so we can catch up. I touch her elbow again to lead her across the lobby, finishing the text to my assistant with my hand hidden in my pocket as I pull her to a stop near the front doors.
“Let me help you with your coat,” I offer. It’s the right thing to do, even though it’s really just another excuse to touch her.
“Oh, thanks,” she says, looking a little stunned when I take her purse on my arm so she can slip her coat on. “Where are we going for brunch?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.” The way her brows pull together creates the cutest wrinkle in her forehead, and all I want to do is kiss it and smooth it away, but she might smack me for that, and it would be a really bad idea in the front lobby of my company’s building.
“Here’s your coat, Mr. Etheridge, and Joel is bringing the car around,” Stacy, my assistant, announces as she walks swiftly toward me, heels clicking on the tile. She must have hopped in the other elevator the instant I sent the first text, because she made it down in record time.
“You’re the best, Stacy,” I tell her, and she gives me that ‘you owe me’ look that I receive so often from her, but it’s true. Based on that glance alone, I know she’s already planning just how I’ll return the favor for all the trouble it’s going to cause as she reschedules the afternoon for me.
“That’s true,” she agrees, turning to Brinnah with a smile before she waves and heads back upstairs to clean up whatever mess my spontaneous change of plans has caused.
“Wow, that was smooth, Flintstone.”
When I glance down at her, she’s biting back a laugh and I let out a chuckle as I shrug. “It wasn’t meant to be. Stacy just works magic, and she keeps me sane. She’s the best damn assistant I’ve ever had, and I think the company would go down in flames if she ever tried to leave.”
“I doubt that,” Brinnah says, and her laugh is so warm and comfortable and relaxed. Not forced or fake like the crap I’m surrounded by every day.
“It’s the truth, I’ll explain in a second.” Pulling my coat on, I double-check that my wallet is in the pocket and then lead Brinnah to the doors as soon as I see Joel pull up out front. “Come on, the car is here.”
We’re settled into the back of the town car a moment later, and as soon as Joel gets back in the driver’s seat, I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Where to, Mr. Etheridge?”
“Roy’s please,” I answer, keeping my voice as even as possible. I know this plan is a gamble but going with my instincts has got me this far in life and I’ve learned to trust them.
Turning to Brinnah again, I’m still in shock that she’s here, and I’m tempted to pinch myself just to make sure it’s not some kind of boredom-fueled daydream and I’m still trapped in a meeting somewhere upstairs.
Keep talking, Flint. That’s what you’re good at.
“So, you want to know about Stacy?” I ask, smiling when Brinnah meets my gaze.
“Sure. Tell me how she’s holding ColdPoint Enterprises together, Mr. Etheridge.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes and groan. “Please don’t call me that.”
“You plan on calling me Grossy again?” she challenges, and it sends a zing rushing over my skin. All that fire in her auburn hair has always just been a warning about that fiery temper she has under the surface.
“No, I promise. It’s never made sense anyway, you’ve always been the furthest thing from ‘gross’ I can imagine, Brinnah.” The words came out faster than I could process them, and as her cheeks turn red, I know I need to change the subject before I send her running for the hills. “Stacy does hold the company together though. She was the best hire I think I’ve ever made. Over twenty years of experience, most of the time she knows what I need before I do. I think it’s because she’s got three kids.”
“And that helps her handle a CEO?” Brinnah teases, and I laugh.
“Yep, I think it does.” I take a deep breath and feel myself relax a little. “She always says she has to ‘mom’ me, and I honestly don’t mind it. I’m always in my head, thinking about too many things, and she keeps the day-to-day stuff running. Makes sure I eat, don’t miss appointments or events, all that stuff.”
“She sounds great.”
“She is,” I reply, remembering how grateful I was to find an experienced assistant that didn’t rub me the wrong way. “It’s hard to find someone you mesh with, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” Brinnah crosses her legs, and my eyes follow the line down to her heels. Not those crazy four-inch spikes I see on some women, but simple black heels that look nice with her monochromatic outfit. “It’s important to mesh with someone, especially if you’re going to work closely with them all the time.”
“Exactly. A lot of executives treat their assistants like trophies, and I hate that. I wanted someone who would actually help me stay on track, and Stacy does that with zero office drama. She’s been married for almost thirty years, and two of her kids are grown, the youngest is still in college, and she just had a granddaughter earlier this year. Family is important to her, and as she always tells me she just sees me as an extension of her family.”
“She sounds pretty amazing. I’m glad you have her,” Brinnah replies, and my first instinct is to feel defensive, to listen for some kind of sarcasm or unnecessary jealousy, but after a few seconds I realize that she really means it.
I’m such an asshole.
Brinnah isn’t like that. She never has been.
“I’m glad, too,” I eventually reply, and we fall into an easy silence.
She turns and glances out the window at the passing traffic, her breath fogging the glass as it keeps out the winter Boston air, and I find myself staring at her lips. I can’t tell if that pink is natural or lipstick, but I’ve never been good at guessing stuff like that — either way, it looks good on her.
Hell, she looks good, so damn good
, and I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss her. The only time our group of friends ever got brave enough to play a game of spin the bottle, we got interrupted by some younger kids before either of us even got to go. It seems stupid now since I know we’ve both kissed someone, and done a lot more than that, but I can’t forget how much I wanted Brinnah Grosset to be my first kiss.
“So, what kind of food is at Roy’s?” she asks, and her voice yanks me out of that afternoon in the park after school and back to the present.
“Nice try, but I’m not telling you anything.”
“Come on, Flint. Give me a hint,” she pleads, and the flirty smile she gives me almost breaks my willpower.
“A hint?”
“Just one,” Brinnah urges, leaning closer to me, and I catch a soft, citrusy scent that could be her perfume or her shampoo, and I want to know which it is.
“Hmm…” I stall for time, thinking over the hints I could offer without giving away the plan I have before the first surprise reveals itself. “Okay, here is your one hint.”
“Yeah?” She sits up straight, that beautiful, excited grin on her face, and I can’t help but chuckle because the hint I’ve come up with could either be creepy or impressive — but Brinnah is worth the gamble.
“It has to do with your school supplies in seventh grade.”
Brinnah
“My what?” I ask, confused as hell, but Flint just gives me that stupid, sexy grin of his as he pushes his fingers back through his hair and leans against the door.
“Your school supplies,” he repeats.
“In seventh grade.”
“Yep.” His grin is cocky, and there’s a playful light dancing in his brown eyes that reminds me of all his daredevil antics when we were kids. When Flint was ‘Flintstone’ he used to jump off everything at the park where we all hung out, climbing trees or anything he could manage, and whenever he did something incredibly wild like that, he always had the same damn look.
This look.
And how the hell does he remember my school supplies from seventh grade?
Groaning, I rub at my forehead and adjust my purse on my lap. “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t even remember my school supplies from back then.”
“Really?” He purses his lips slightly, that same thoughtful expression from the meeting appearing on his face as he drums a tempo on his thigh. “Well, then I guess you’re just going to have to wait and see. That’s the only hint you’re going to get.”
“Oh, come on, you do not remember my school supplies in seventh grade.”
Flint shrugs, grinning at me again. “I’m surprised you don’t remember them. You had quite the theme.”
Theme?
I’m so busy wracking my brain about the bullshit hint he’s given me — which may just be some kind of trick and not worth my time — that I’m pretty much on autopilot as we play the catch-up game on our families and what happened after he moved away. Everyone’s good, still alive and happy. After high school he went to the Ivy League while I went to a state school. He went straight into an MBA and then rose up the corporate ladder swiftly before getting head-hunted for ColdPoint Enterprises, while I dove into various jobs in corporate life until I eventually settled into the training field six years ago.
“So, do you like your job?” he asks, and I shake off trying to remember school supplies for a minute.
“I do, and I’m actually pretty good at it. A good training plan can change the course of a company, and it can really help people.” Sitting up a bit more, I start talking with my hands as my passion for the job takes over. “See, so often we just try to shove information at employees and expect them to learn it without pausing to figure out the best way to give it to them. The how is infinitely more important than the what when it comes to training. Once you’ve figured out the right way to share different kinds of information, what you’re actually teaching people becomes secondary.”
“That’s a really good point,” Flint says quietly, and I can tell he’s either thinking about what I’ve said… or completely bored out of his mind.
Dammit.
“Sorry, I just get really excited about this stuff.”
“No, no, Brinnah. I’m impressed by how clearly you can see all that, and I wish I could get half my leadership team to feel even a fraction of that kind of passion over training their people.”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I shrug and laugh a little. “Does that mean we have the contract?”
“Maybe,” he teases, and I groan. I’m about to say something smartass when I look out the window and realize we’re not in the city anymore, we’re in some kind of industrial area, and…
“What the fuck? Is this an airport?” I ask, twisting in my seat to look out the back window at a small airplane lining up to takeoff. Anxiety flurries in my stomach as I watch the plane accelerate down the runway. “Flint! Why are we at an airport?”
“Surprise?” he says, and I can hear that his chuckle is a little nervous. When I turn to look at him, his eyebrows are raised slightly, a half-smile lingering on his lips. “Don’t freak out, it’s just a quick hop to where I want to take you to brunch… or really more like lunch by the time we land.”
“You want me to just get on a plane with you?” I ask, stunned, and he grins.
“Don’t you want the contract with ColdPoint?”
A laugh bursts past my lips as the car swings around to an open hangar where I can see a plane inside that’s about ten times smaller than anything I’ve ever been in. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Flint. Are you really blackmailing me into getting on a plane with you?”
“Come on, Brinnah, don’t make it sound so sinister. I promise we’ll be back by tonight, and just think of all the time you’ll have to tell me about your plan without your idiot boss interrupting you.”
“You think he’s an idiot?” I can’t stifle the smile plucking at my lips as Flint rolls his eyes and flashes that grin at me again.
“You don’t?”
“Dammit, you are completely ridiculous.” Shaking my head, I stare in awe as the car stops by a beautiful plane that has the ColdPoint Enterprises logo emblazoned on the side. “Do you normally take your training designers on plane trips for lunch meetings?”
“Only the ones I really like spending time around,” he replies, looking too fucking gorgeous and tempting. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this felt like a date, but I know it’s not. We’re just old friends and he wants to catch up and… take me on a plane ride for lunch.
That’s normal. Probably totally normal for someone like him.
“What do you say, Brinnah? You in?” Flint holds out his hand, and I get a sudden flashback of the last time he offered me a hand when I fell trying to follow him on one of his stupid stunts. I’d slipped and fallen off the side of this wooden playground equipment he’d been scaling, landing hard on the woodchips below, and he’d jumped down after me to help me up.
When I’d taken his hand back then, I hadn’t wanted him to let go. I’d had a ton of ideas about him being my boyfriend, about us holding hands at school, and as I slip my hand into his again… I can’t deny that the same stupid ideas flutter around my head again.
“Good choice,” he says with that cocky grin, opening the side door and sliding out, pulling me after him.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I ask, feeling the heat in my cheeks as he keeps hold of my hand to lead me to the stairs for the jet.
Flint pauses on the first step and glances back at me. “Have you figured out your hint yet?”
“No! Who remembers their school supplies from middle school?”
“I remember yours,” he says with a shrug, and pulls me up the steps and into the plane. His plane.
“Good morning, Mr. Etheridge.” The pilot leans out of the cockpit area and smiles at us both. “Mrs. Teague has informed me of your plan for the day and that you’re bringing a guest. Please tell me if you need a
nything once we’re in the air.”
“Thanks, Roy, and for the last time would you just call me Flint?”
“No, sir,” the pilot answers with a smile before nodding at us and returning to the cockpit.
Flint sighs and guides me to two of the plush seats that face the front of the plane. “You should take the window.”
“I’ve, um, never been on a plane this small,” I mumble, trying not to let my sudden anxiety ruin this opportunity, but all of my nerves melt when Flint takes my hand again and squeezes.
“Try not to think about it. This is one of the safest private jets on the market, and I’ve flown on it for business hundreds of times.”
“Right, and your company is okay with you just taking a private jet for lunch with an old friend?” I ask, letting out a nervous laugh as I sit down and he takes the seat beside me.
“Well, first of all, this is a business trip because you’re going to be telling me all about Higher Thought’s training plan for our leadership team, and second of all, I’m the CEO.” He grins at me and I just shake my head as we buckle in.
“If you get me in trouble I’m going to be so pissed.”
“I think your boss will be happy at the end of the day,” he says, winking at me before tightening his seatbelt. Then he offers his hand again, palm up in the space between our seats. “Give me your hand.”
That bossy edge to his tone is all CEO and it has me obeying without thinking about it. His skin is so warm, which is nice since my fingers feel like ice and I’m pretty sure they’d be shaking if he didn’t squeeze them firmly.
“Take off is going to feel different, so just crush my hand if you feel nervous, okay?”
Staring into Flint’s eyes, with his hand holding mine, has me feeling infinitely safer than it should, but I don’t care. There’s an eleven-year-old girl inside me squealing with joy, dancing around her bedroom with the diary I wrote in so often about the very man now sitting beside me.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper.
I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection Page 42
