Page 70 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“Says the woman wearing my college t-shirt under her blazer.”

My hand flies to my collar. “How did you—“

“I recognize the blue edge peeking out.” His grin is downright smug. “And the fact that you ‘borrowed’ it from my drawer this morning?”

“It’s my lucky work t-shirt now.” I straighten his tie, letting my fingers linger. “And we have that board meeting tomorrow where we prove our unconventional approach wasn’t just successful—it was revolutionary.”

My phone chimes with an email notification of the Johnsons’ official feedback on our implementation strategy. My heartspeeds up a bit—this is the formal evaluation that will go to the board, not just the enthusiastic phone call.

“Open it,” Lucas encourages his hand warm on my back. “Let’s see if they’re as impressed in writing as they were on the phone.”

I scan the email, my smile growing with each line. The Johnsons aren’t just satisfied—they’re ecstatic. Their formal evaluation reads like a love letter to our approach.

“They love it. Not just the technical aspects—they specifically mention how we took the time to understand their company culture.”

I read aloud the most gratifying section: “‘Walker Enterprises has demonstrated a unique understanding of the human element in sustainable manufacturing. By valuing our employees’ expertise rather than trying to replace it, they’ve created a system that honors our past while embracing the future.’ Mr. Johnson says it’s like having ‘the intuition of family with the innovation of future technology.’ They want us to present our approach at the National Manufacturing Summit next month.”

“That’s you,” Lucas says softly. “You saw what everyone else missed—that real progress isn’t about replacing the old with the new but building bridges between them.”

“That’s us.” I turn to face him fully. “You’re the one who trusted me enough to get your Italian leather shoes dirty, proving it.”

“Worth every ruined pair.” His smile turns mischievous. “Though maybe we expense the next set to the company. Technically, they’re essential CEO equipment now.”

Before I can retort, his assistant knocks, bringing in our presentation materials for tomorrow’s board meeting. We shift seamlessly into professional mode, but Lucas’s hand brushes mine as we review the final numbers.

“Ready to show them exactly how wrong they were about our unconventional approach?” he asks.

“Ready to show them exactly how right we are together,” I counter, gathering my reports. “Though maybe I should lead with the efficiency metrics before mentioning how their CEO crawled under machinery last week.”

“Probably wise. Though I maintain that grease stain was your fault.”

“That was one time!”

“Three times, but who’s counting?” He catches my hand before I can leave. “Dinner tonight? To celebrate properly?”

“Your place? We still have that wine I like unopened.”

“Perfect. Though this time, let’s skip any corporate drama.”

I lean in to kiss him quickly, professional distance momentarily forgotten. “No promises. But that’s what makes it interesting, right?”

His laugh follows me out the door, warm and real.

***

Later that morning, I’m working in my office when Natalie appears in my doorway with two coffees and an expression that screams, ‘I need details!’

“Okay, spill it,” she demands, setting my decaf on my desk before dropping into a visitor’s chair. “The entire floor is buzzing about how impressive those Johnson numbers are. Is it true they want to expand the contract to their other facilities?”

I laugh, accepting the coffee gratefully. “Word travels fast around here. Yes, the metrics are even better than we projected. The Johnsons are talking about implementing our approach across all their manufacturing plants.”

“And?” Natalie leans forward expectantly.

“And what?”

“And how does it feel to be the corporate wunderkind who just led the evolution of our approach to sustainable manufacturing integration? The analyst who proved Brighton Analytics wrong and saved our biggest account? The woman who convinced our CEO to get machine grease on his custom suits?”

When said like that, it sounds quite impressive. I feel a smile spreading across my face. “It feels pretty amazing. Validation is nice.”

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