Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Reagan winced. “Layla’s sick, remember? Should she be doing calls?”
“Good point.” I ran my hand over my jaw, still surprised to find stubble instead of my usual beard. “Who has the login information for our accounts?”
“Nataly could get them. I’ll shoot her an email.” He turned his laptop toward himself and began typing.
“Perfect.” I stood and lifted my arms to the ceiling, stretching my back. Somehow, the morning had flown by, and it hadn’t been nearly as torturous as I’d expected. In fact, spending time with Reagan had been surprisingly easy.
At least until I noticed that his eyes had locked onto the strip of bare skin at my waist where my shirt rode up.
His gaze slammed into mine, drowning me in blue, and my cock stirred.
One of the bunk curtains slid back noisily, and McGee’s feet dropped to the floor of the bus with a thud. “Oh, man, I needed that,” he groaned. “Bus sleep is the best sleep.”
I dropped my arms to my sides, and Reagan focused on his laptop screen like his email was a matter of life or death.
McGee wandered into the kitchenette, rubbing his eyes blearily with tattooed fingers. His face was covered in pillow creases. “Morning, boss. Morning, princess.” He looked back and forth between us. “All good?”
“Yep,” I agreed. “We got a lot done this morning.”
McGee nodded. “Good, ’cause we’ll be in Kansas City in twenty.” He reached for a coffee mug with a yawn. “I was planning to wake up a while ago, but listening to you two talk was like having one of those white noise machines on, and I zonked out again. Whrrrr… algorithm targeting… whrrrr… click ratios… whrrrrr… I should’ve recorded it as a public service for people with insomnia.”
“It’s good that you take sleep seriously,” Reagan said without glancing up. “Just a single sleepless night can make a person’s skin cells age faster and lose elasticity.”
McGee ran his tongue over his teeth, clearly amused. “Still not wrinkly, princess.”
“Hmm?” Reagan glanced up, all innocence. “Oh, no, of course not. Yet. Though, gosh, what would happen to your tattoos if you did get wrinkles? Would they wrinkle, too? Huh.” He shrugged and gave McGee a beatific smile.
I pushed McGee’s shoulder before he could retort and directed him toward the back of the bus. “Do me a favor and check my suit while I freshen up. See if it needs a steam.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled. But I noticed that he paused to check his reflection in the mirrored door to the bathroom as we passed and ran a hand over his tattooed arm as if checking for elasticity. And when I shot him an amused glance, he ducked his head and grinned.
I was dressed by the time the bus pulled to a stop at the convention center, and I hustled back to the kitchenette. “Reagan, you have my notes, right?”
“Yep. Right here.” Reagan tapped his work tablet. “Nataly also sent me three different logins already for our accounts…” He trailed off as he assessed my outfit. “Nice suit, but are you sure that’s how you want to play this? You’re speaking to textile executives in Missouri, not Wall Street power players.”
“Executives wear suits, Reagan,” I explained patiently.
He pursed his lips as if he was going to argue but then held up his hands. “Okay. I’m sure you know better than I do. Carry on.”
It turned out… I did not know better than he did. When we entered the convention center, it was filled with more pairs of cotton khaki pants than I’d ever seen outside of a Dockers commercial. I stuck out like a sore thumb.
It had been a while since I’d been at an industry event outside of a large city like New York, Boston, or Chicago. Apparently, things were different in Kansas City. I couldn’t even imagine how much more so it would be in Des Moines or Wichita.
As I was being introduced as the next speaker in one of the sessions, I pulled my arms back and tugged off my jacket before rolling up my sleeves and loosening my tie. Reagan chose this moment to lean over and whisper in my ear, “Don’t worry. McGee is zipping over to Walmart to get you some less embarrassing pants before our next stop. I’m so sorry. I feel like it’s my fault. I really should have said something.”
I stretched my neck from side to side, fighting off the effects of his warm breath on my skin. I was tempted to remind him that nobody liked a know-it-all… except I wasn’t sure that was true. Certain parts of me liked Reagan far too much.
The speech went better than I’d expected. After a luncheon with several of the other presenters and local industry executives, we walked through the vendor area and stopped to speak to several key contacts. And I meant we.