Page 10 of Under the Mistletoe
“You accept?” I want to ensure I heard her right as I try to tame the smile that’s growing on my face.
“Yes. I accept your offer.”
“Everything alright over here, kiddo?” I look up, seeing an older gentleman walking toward us, eyeing me suspiciously. I remember his face from the website, the owner and more than likely Jay Jay’s father.
“Donovan York.” I extend my hand to him, and he looks at it, then looks back at me, and even though I put him in his sixties, I can tell this guy has a lot of fight left in him.
“Bob Johnson.” He grips my hand firmly, mistrusting. Can’t say I’ve experienced that much in my life.
“How many more men are going to be coming in here looking for you today?” He isn’t quiet with his remark to her, and the fact that I’m not her only visitor has my shoulders tightening.
“Uncle Bobby, this is my boss,” Jessica tells him, and his grip on my hand immediately lightens, making me smirk. My eyes flick around the store, wondering if her father is here somewhere, not missing the reference that he’s her uncle. Although I didn’t see another man on the website.
“Boss?” Her uncle Bobby looks at me and then back at her, eyebrows raised in question.
“I came to negotiate. To see if Jessica would take my job offer. Seems we have a deal?” I look at her for confirmation, and she nods, which has her uncle smiling.
“Well, nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to chat.” Giving me a nod, he walks off, but I notice he doesn’t go far. Protective of his niece. I like that.
“Family business?” It clearly is, but as I look around, there’s a hell of a lot of stock here for such a small storefront, especially considering that it’s almost snowing. Who in the world would be putting a sprinkler system in this time of year?
“It is,” she says simply.
“Been in business long?” I ask, even though I really should be leaving. I just can’t seem to get myself to step away.
“Uncle Bobby started it a few years ago.”
“Lots of stock here…” I frown, still wondering if they sell any of it.
“It all gets shipped out this week.”
“Shipped out?” My gaze snaps back to hers, confused.
“I spent the last few months working on a profitable strategy for the business to get through the winter months. Florida, Arizona, and Hawaii all have higher need for sprinklers during this cold season, so we did an online campaign, saturated the market.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. I eye the boxes of stock around the place, the shelving that houses all the products. I’m not an expert in lawn sprinklers, but I dare say they have a pretty good turnover for a small family business. It’s all because of this woman staring up at me.
“Someone smart once told me lawn sprinklers was a two-point-eight-billion-dollar industry.”
She smiles, seeming almost shy that I remembered that fact. I’m such a fucking fool for her already.
“It’s nice to have a small piece of that pie.”
I huff a laugh, surprising myself. I can’t remember the last time I chuckled as part of a work conversation.
“We have a no moonlighting policy at York Enterprises.” I would never hold her to it. As an only child with a late father who worked all the time and a late mother who didn’t care about anything other than her socialite standing, I don’t have the same connection to family as she does. But I respect it. “However, loyalty is something I appreciate. As long as you don’t work for any of my competitors, what you do in your spare time is up to you.”
She nods. “No competitors, got it. I’m sure you’ll keep me busy enough anyway.”
I suddenly want to ask her exactly what she does in her spare time, but I bite my tongue, my visit now well and truly running overtime.
Clearing my throat, I step back from her, creating a little distance. But not before she lifts her chin, tiny and defiant, and meets my gaze full-on. For a second, the air between us tightens. Something unspoken, unsorted, stretches taut between us. And then it’s gone. Just a moment, but I’ll be dragging it behind me all the way back to Manhattan.
“I’ll have the formal contract emailed to you this afternoon. Monday. My office. Eight a.m.”
“I’ll see you then,” she says softly, a glimmer in her eye that makes it entirely too difficult to take another step toward the door.
I give her a nod while my nostrils flare, dragging in oxygen, and I force myself to walk out.
I’m looking forward to Monday morning for the first time in a long time.
