by Robyn Neeley
Those facts made her more interesting to him than the simple country girl he’d pegged her to be, but did that make her qualified to own 50 percent of the company? “No,” he said out loud and sank his teeth into the apple. It did not. There had to be a way to entice her to take the deal.
Her reaction to Gavin and Macy’s big engagement news was puzzling. To say she looked mortified was an understatement. Gavin had mentioned Becca might not be handling well the possibility that his dad had selected her to marry a Cooper boy.
He rolled his neck until it cracked, and finished his apple, tossing the core in the trash. Well, she could do a whole lot worse than a wealthy businessman, leading a multimillion-dollar company. If anyone should be mortified, shouldn’t it be him? He chuckled at the memory of how she had stepped on him with her cowboy boot. Somehow, that act in those boots had turned him on more than it had annoyed him.
He wouldn’t deny it. Becca was attractive, and he wouldn’t have minded them dancing for a little longer. She’d said Chuck wasn’t her boyfriend, but the big goon must have been watching them, ready to step in if needed.
And what about what that douchebag had said before he’d delivered the blow? Did the factory employees really think he was a colossal joke? See him as a complete failure who would run the company into the ground?
He drained his coffee. Since when did he give a flying fuck what people thought? Being the CEO meant you were inevitably going to do things that made you unpopular with your employees for the good of the company. He tried to think of one unfavorable thing his dad had done, but came up short. “Whatever,” he said out loud. “Dad was good at hiding his dirty laundry.”
Though Grayson had accused Becca days ago of blackmailing his dad, he didn’t really believe that was the case. His dad wasn’t the type of guy to have any enemies or secrets. To accuse her of holding something scandalous over his pop’s head to get those shares, he’d admit, had been ludicrous.
Grabbing his coffee mug, he refilled it and headed back upstairs into his bathroom. Since a run in the hot sun was out of the question, he’d shower and head in to the office. He had a report on all Tex-Mex restaurants in the Southwest to pore over that he’d asked his research team to put together and leave on his desk by close of business on Friday. When they’d asked for more time, he gave them until Sunday at noon.
Did that make him a prick because his staff would have to give up their weekend to finish it? Probably. It didn’t matter. Sundays were always productive for him. He’d study the research and pinpoint which restaurants made the most sense to push Guac Olé into. Besides, the additional profit would surely lead to smiling faces in December when all of his employees received holiday bonuses.
His brothers would, no doubt, give him shit for moving forward with the plans after they’d voted no, but if they were going to be jerks and demand Becca be part of the conversation, well then he would quietly put his plan into motion without them. In September, he’d share his progress, and if either Gavin or Gage opposed, he’d tell them to shove it. Same went for Becca if she sided with his brothers.
He turned on the shower, yanked off his white T-shirt, and removed his gray sweats. He stepped in and his hands flattened on his face as he let the steaming hot water relax his sore muscles. He’d hit the ground pretty hard last night.
If he hadn’t been clocked by the cowboy, would he have finished his conversation with Becca? Maybe they would have danced again and he could have convinced her that accepting his offer to buy her shares was not only a good deal for her but the best move for the company.
He squeezed out some shampoo, massaging his scalp. He could dream up an ending where she accepted his offer, but it probably wasn’t in the cards. For whatever reason, she was content on staying in the factory and peeling avocados.
She said the plant was her home. He might have laughed at her, but in that moment, he’d experienced a twinge of envy. Yeah, he’d worked his butt off over the years, carving out his place in the company, but the pride in her eyes was real, raw emotion.
He should have never laughed in her face. He didn’t know what her life was like outside of work. Maybe the factory was like a home to her. Just like Macy had told him recently that the open road used to be hers.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a crisp white towel, tying it around his waist. Wiping the condensation off his mirror, he stared hard. “You’re really losing your charm,” he warned his reflection. Time to move on to Plan B—which he didn’t have at the moment. If only he could get closer to Becca and learn why his dad had selected her for his inheritance and why she was so insistent on keeping those shares.
Maybe he should take Gavin’s advice and chill out for the next three weeks. Stop pressing the issue of buying her out. Spend some time around her and discover what his dad saw in a factory employee to single-handedly make her the most powerful person in the company.
Perhaps then he would be able to come up with a more appealing offer. If not money, there had to be something else she wanted.
There. He had his Plan B. Satisfied, he grabbed his toothbrush, pumped out some toothpaste, and began to brush. He’d get to know her. In three weeks, he’d have all his answers and he could then formulate a new strategy that aligned with Becca’s motivations. That’s how he’d get her shares.
He spit out the paste and rinsed. There was only one problem. He was pretty sure the only way she’d let down her guard and let him in was if he were someone else … anyone else.
If I were someone else … He studied his reflection. All of a sudden an idea popped into his head. Albeit, a totally crazy one. One that would help him get closer to Becca.
He raced into his adjoining bedroom and threw on a pair of khakis and one of his many polo T-shirts before reaching for his phone and asking Siri for the number to the Silver Spurs.
In no time, he had the one person on the other end who could help him make his zany idea a reality.
• • •
Becca sipped her soda, glancing out the window of Betty Lou’s. Had it really only been last night that she was in Grayson’s arms?
She’d really thought hell had frozen over when he extended his hand.
Then of all things, she’d stepped into his embrace. What was she thinking? What she should have done was politely decline and hightail it back to the security of the diner.
If she had done exactly that, Chuck would still have his job.
Becca placed her head in her hands. Last night was all her fault. She should have realized Chuck was keeping an eye on her. Tangie had told him to. She also wasn’t surprised that he’d come to her rescue when Grayson grabbed her arm. It was no secret around the plant that Chuck didn’t think much of Grayson and his flashy convertible. He would relish the opportunity to knock the CEO out.
After the punch, she’d dropped down to make sure Grayson was okay. Gage and Gavin immediately rushed to their brother’s side, so she’d moved out of the way. Grayson appeared shaken but fine. She took off and weaved through the crowd until she’d caught up with Chuck. She wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything else stupid like getting behind the wheel and driving home.
She found him on the street corner with Tangie. Her friend was inspecting his hand while trying to calm him down.
They’d convinced Chuck that the best thing to do at that moment was let them take him home. Once there, she and Tangie spent the rest of the evening supplying him with a few rounds of coffee until he sobered up. “I have no regrets, boss,” was what he’d said to Becca as she was leaving his apartment. He did, however, apologize for letting her down.
Grabbing her phone, Becca sent Chuck a quick text to check on him. Not only as his friend but as his boss, it was her responsibility to make sure he was okay. Well, technically the latter relationship would end tomorrow. She was pretty sure punching the CEO was grounds for dismissal, and there wasn’t going to be anything she could do about it.
Maybe she should try to talk to Gra
yson. Explain that Chuck really needed this job and couldn’t lose his health insurance or tuition reimbursement benefits. Whatever happened, she’d give her employee an excellent reference and help him land on his feet. He’d always been a solid line worker. Maybe she could float him a loan for living expenses until he was able to collect unemployment. He was part of her Guac Olé plant family, and family took care of family.
She was certain the CEO saw things differently. Grayson had looked completely taken aback when Chuck flat-out told him the whole factory thought that he was a lousy leader. Surely, he must know that he hadn’t made a favorable impression on his plant employees. She finished the first half of her grilled cheese sandwich and washed it down with her soda. Maybe he just didn’t care.
Perhaps with her new influence, she could ask Grayson to take more of an interest in his employees. So many of them had nicknames for him that were less than favorable. Pretty Boy. Swanky Suit. Dip Shit, which was a deliberate play on words, given the product they produced.
Always quick to make fun of him, one employee had even dressed up as Grayson last Halloween, making a convertible out of cardboard and spray-painting it black. He’d pretended to drive around the floor with it all day, cutting people off.
That had actually been quite funny.
She might have thought she was going into the lions’ den last night, hanging out with Grayson and his brothers, but the same could definitely be said for him if he attempted to step foot in the factory and stay there for any length of time. She took another bite of her sandwich. He might not get out alive.
She set her napkin on her plate just as Betty Lou came over.
“How’s the grilled cheese?”
“Fabulous as always.” She reached in her purse for her wallet and pulled out some cash, but Betty Lou shook her head. “It’s on the house. It’s the least I can do for all your help last night.”
“Thank you. Do you want me to give you a hand today?”
“No, I’m good. You go do something fun.”
Becca pulled her mango lip balm out of her purse, rubbing the soft orange ball across her lips. Something fun. She didn’t do fun. When she wasn’t working, she’d always spent time with her mother. Not to mention, until recently, she never had any discretionary income, living from paycheck to paycheck.
Now that she had more money than she knew what to do with, maybe she should infuse a little fun into her life—go shopping, or to the movies, or perhaps drive up to Houston for the day.
She wrinkled her nose. The problem with all those ideas: She’d never been fascinated with clothes and preferred wearing her worn-out T-shirts and comfy jeans to purchasing anything new; sitting alone in a dark theater sounded just plain sad; and she wasn’t quite sure if her old truck would make it to Houston.
She glanced out the window at Blue Baby, the nickname she’d given her beloved truck. It was her first big purchase after she started working at Guac Olé. Sure, it had had over fifty thousand miles on it at that time, but she’d been so proud the day she picked it up from the old used car lot off Route 24. It now had well over one hundred thousand miles on it, or at least she thought it did. She didn’t exactly know since the odometer broke two years ago. She should probably consider purchasing a new truck.
The thing was, she didn’t like change and was perfectly content running Blue Baby into the junkyard grave.
She sighed and gazed out the window. That would probably happen sometime before the end of the year. Like it or not, change was in the air.
All of a sudden her heart stopped as Grayson pulled up across the street in his Mercedes convertible. He stepped out in jeans and a casual white button-down shirt, sliding on a tan cowboy hat. Since when did Mr. Rhode Island wear something Texan?
He leaned against his car and rolled up his sleeves before folding his tanned arms. Had she really been in his embrace last night?
Stop it, Becca. She grabbed her water glass to down the flames that reminiscing about their dance appeared to have ignited inside her. She glanced over again. Maybe she could run across the street and say a quick hello, apologize for last night, and find out what he planned to do about Chuck.
Good idea. She hopped out of the booth and headed for the exit. But someone had beaten her to him.
Apparently Grayson had made a full recovery from Chuck’s punch. Becca stepped back and watched as he greeted Meg Murphy with a big hug and a peck on the cheek.
The Silver Spurs’ waitress was all smiles as she took hold of the arm he offered and they strolled down the street.
Becca put on her sunglasses and left the restaurant, keeping her head down and beelining it to her truck. Safely inside, she glanced down the street to see if she could catch a glimpse of Grayson and Meg, but the sidewalks were crowded with Founders’ Day Weekend visitors.
Were they having lunch together? Becca started her truck, scolding herself for even asking the question. So what if Grayson was enjoying his Sunday with Meg?
She hit the gas and sped down the road as far from the center of town as she could get.
Who he spent his free time with shouldn’t bother her in the least, but for some reason it did.
CHAPTER FIVE
Meg turned her key and opened the glass door to the Loose Curls salon. “Go ahead and take a seat at the first station. I’ll get the lights.”
Grayson sat down and spun around in the empty salon chair. Spacious, the beauty shop had a row of six workstations. “Thanks, Meg, for doing this,” he said, and meant it. “I hope I don’t get you in trouble with the owner.”
The lights turned on, and she reappeared. “Nah, we’re good. The salon manager is also my cosmetology instructor. She lets us come in for a couple of hours on Sunday and practice on each other. My classmates Val and Mandy will be here any second to help.” She paused, adding, “But don’t you worry, I’ve sworn them to absolute secrecy. Told them you were doing this for a TV show, and it’s extremely important that your cover not be blown.”
“Thanks, Meg.” He smiled. He had gotten the idea from the popular reality show, but there would be no cameras, and he definitely wouldn’t be dishing out a boatload of money at the end of all this. No, he would be the one to gain getting the shares that rightfully belonged to him.
What he was asking Meg to do was a pretty tall order. When he’d told her that he needed her assistance in giving him an unrecognizable makeover and he’d pay her whatever it took, she’d laughed into the phone and asked if he was pulling her leg.
His idea was freakin’ brilliant. With the help of Meg and now a couple of her beauty school friends, they’d create a disguise that would allow him to go undercover and work in the factory. Since Becca conveniently had a line worker position open, he planned on sliding right into that spot, reporting to HR tomorrow.
Albeit crazy, if his plan worked he’d get the time with Becca he needed. His dad had a reason for giving her the shares, but Grayson was never going to figure it out if each time they were together turned into his wearing sticky food or him getting his ass kicked by one of her friends.
He took off the hat and studied his reflection in the mirror, raking his hands through his hair. Becca Nash wasn’t going to let her guard down around Grayson Cooper. That was clear. Spinning in his chair, he slid his hat back on. But perhaps she’d open up to out-of-towner Coop Jackson.
He’d come up with the name on the drive over, shortening Cooper for his first name and then being a little creative with the last name. Jackson. Jack—son. Jack’s son.
“Meg, what do you think of the name Coop Jackson?”
She came over to the workstation and smacked her gum. “Very sexy.”
“I wasn’t going for sexy.”
“You sure about that, cowboy?” She smirked in the mirror. “I think she’ll like the hat, too.”
A knock at the front door prevented him from asking who she meant, although he was pretty sure she was referring to Becca.
Meg rushed over to open it
for her friends. “Hey, Grayson,” she called out. “I’m going to help Mandy and Val with some things they purchased for your makeover. We’ll be right back.”
“Sounds good.” Grayson powered up his iPad and put his plan into motion, first firing off an e-mail to his senior management team. He told them that he’d decided to take an impromptu trip to Cancun. Since it was summer, half his team had gone on their own vacations. His wanting to leave and recharge his batteries shouldn’t raise suspicion.
His fingers tapped out his elaborate lie. His family had a bungalow on a private island resort there. That he decided to take a spur-of-the-moment vacation was plausible.
Meg returned with her classmates and they set down the plastic bags and two pink suitcases they’d brought in.
“Nice to meet you, ladies.” He extended his hand to both. The two women looked to be around Meg’s age, both dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts. Mandy was a brunette and Val was a redhead, her hair was a little darker than Meg’s. “I’m sorry I took you away from your Sunday.”
“Not a problem.” Mandy took a seat next to him.
Val squatted down and began opening the two suitcases, adding, “We’re here every weekend.” She winked. “You’re our first real customer. Normally we just practice on each other.”
“Well, I’m excited to see what you do.” He leaned back in his chair. “Meg, my only request: Please don’t bleach my hair.” Coop Jackson was definitely not a blond surfer kind of a dude.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan, and it won’t involve making you a blond.” Meg patted his head. She then grabbed a rectangular cardboard box from Val and set it in his lap. “But first, you need this.”
