The Hang Up (First Impressions) Page 18

  They were all still staring at him, but he was seeing more thoughtful looks. More looks of respect. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen that outside the ski slopes and bike trails. It felt really fucking good to see it in the boardroom.

  Miriam showed you how to do this. Keep going.

  The thought of Miriam was like a shot of adrenaline, so Jason spoke again, buoyed by the encouraging glances he saw from a few members of the executive team.

  “Take Susan Fletcher in product development,” he said, letting his gaze travel around the room from executive to executive, starched suit to stiff blouse. “Did you know that in addition to helping us manufacture bicycle parts for the last fourteen years, Susan also volunteers with Pacific Northwest Trail Development to help build mountain bike trails around the region? Or how about Ted Salport? He’s the manager in our customer service department, but in his free time, he works with the ski patrol team at Mount Hood, looking out for the folks who go hurling themselves off mountaintops using our gear. You want to talk about living our brand? That’s it right there.”

  In one corner of the room, the marketing director set down his own fork and cleared his throat. “It’s actually a pretty good PR opportunity,” Pete murmured, almost as though he didn’t expect anyone to hear.

  But Jason heard, and he was damn glad to have someone else in his corner. “That’s right,” he said, making Pete blink with surprise. “That’s it exactly. Urban Trax should be rewarding employees, not terminating them. They’re out there on the front line being ambassadors for our products. We need them, probably more than they need us.”

  Jack Wainswright cleared his throat and pushed aside his salad. “That’s all well and good, Jason, but how are we going to afford it?”

  “You could start by cutting my pay.”

  A ripple of gasps went around the room like the soundtrack to some weird horror movie. He hadn’t realized he was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth, but now that they were, he saw the solution.

  “As a matter of fact, I propose we cut the pay of every member of the executive team.” He turned to the HR director seated beside him, a severe-looking brunette who ran ultramarathons in her free time. “Kelly, how much did Urban Trax give out in performance bonuses for administrators last quarter?”

  “I can find out.” She grabbed her laptop from the counter behind them and pushed aside her plate. Tapping a few buttons on her keyboard, she pulled up a spreadsheet. Her brow was furrowed, but she looked determined. Maybe even a little hopeful.

  As she turned the monitor to face him, Jason leaned down to look at the figures. “Holy shit,” he said. “Are you kidding me? You want to talk about trimming the fat, here’s where you start.”

  Rex frowned. “Jason, let’s be realistic here. To run a major international company, you need a strong executive team that’s compensated commensurate with market value.”

  “And you also need loyal employees who know someone has their back,” Jason retorted. “We need people who are out there living our corporate values instead of cramming their faces with gourmet meals.”

  Jack Wainswright shifted a little in his seat, and he looked embarrassed as he glanced down at the table. Hell, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to piss off the host who’d fed him some damn fine meals in the last couple of weeks, but it was true. Something needed to be said.

  “Not that this isn’t a nice treat, Jack,” Jason added, finishing off his last bite of salad in illustration. “But a brown-bag lunch or a can of beans never killed anyone.”

  “You make a good point, son.”

  The execs on the other side of Kelly had started to murmur quietly among themselves, glancing at figures on her laptop screen and jotting numbers on their notepads. They looked determined. They looked hopeful. They looked gritty. They looked like motherfucking Urban Trax employees ought to look.

  Jason let his gaze travel around the room, making eye contact with everyone before he spoke again. “Urban Trax is about passion. Commitment. Dedication. Safety. We owe that to our customers, and we owe that to our employees.”

  The words hung there above the table for a moment. No one said anything. No one was eating anymore, but most of them looked thoughtful. Rex Rutherford wasn’t making eye contact, but Jack Wainswright was. So were Donna Savage and Saul Frost and Bob Dunn and Pete Marshall and Jenny North and a whole bunch of other execs Jason had gotten to know over these last few weeks.

  They were all starting to smile.

  Jason set down his salad fork and reached for his dinner fork, really fucking grateful to know the difference. Not just in silverware, either. He knew the difference between owning a business and being a leader. Miriam had taught him that.

  Among other things.

  “I’ve said my piece,” he said, looking across the table to meet Jack Wainswright’s eye. “Now it’s up to you. Who’s ready to vote?”

  …

  “Jason, wait up!”

  He turned to see Pete Marshall chasing him down the hall. The young marketing director was breathless and a little frazzled, but he was grinning like he’d just scored the game-winning touchdown.

  Jason could relate.

  “Nice work in there,” Pete said as he straightened his tie. “I still can’t believe you got them all to give up their bonuses.”

  “I can’t, either,” Jason said, pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to admit that. “But it was the right thing to do.”

  “It’ll make for good PR. I can have the First Impressions team leak it out there to the press, how Urban Trax is looking out for its employees.”

  “Maybe,” he said as his brain flashed on an image of Miriam. “That’s not why we did it, though.”

  “Of course not. But the PR won’t hurt. Sorta like when REI made headlines for giving all their employees the day off on Black Friday.”

  “Sure. Why don’t you run it by the First Impressions team? See what they think about it. They’d know better than we would about the pros and cons from the PR side of things.”

  “I will,” Pete said. “I’ve been in touch with them a few times over the last week. That idea I brought up in the meeting—the one about employee testimonials? That was all Miriam.”

  “Miriam,” Jason said, and the sound of her name sent a pang of longing through him. It didn’t surprise him she’d had the idea. She was smart. And passionate. And funny. And successful. And sexy as hell.

  But she was more than that.

  Or rather, he was more because of her.

  Miriam didn’t make him less able to look out for other people. Hell, she made him more of a man. The kind of man who’d spent the last two weeks getting to know the employees of his company. The kind of man who might struggle a little to balance career and family and taking care of all the people he loved, but who was damn determined to do it anyway.

  Jesus. What the hell had he been thinking breaking things off with her?

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “Sir?”

  He blinked at Pete. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  But he did need to say something out loud. I’m sorry, for starters. I fucked up, for another. Maybe there was still a way to show Miriam they belonged together. That he could be the kind of guy she deserved.

  “Sir, where are you going?” Pete called as Jason began walking toward the door. Walking—hell, he was running, flat-out sprinting if you wanted to get technical.

  Being in shape had its advantages.

  “I’m not done fixing things today,” he called as he hurled himself against the door. “There’s still one more thing to do.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miriam bent forward to wring the mud from her hair, conscious of the fact that it was a futile effort.

  Her shirt was covered in mud. Her shorts were covered in mud. Her face was covered in mud. Did a little mud in her hair really matter that much?

  What she needed right now was a shower. She scowled at her fr
ont door and sighed. Okay, so she couldn’t unlock her house at the moment. She’d lost her keys and phone when she’d rolled her new kayak in the pond a few miles south of town. Thank God for the magnetic hide-a-key on her car or she’d be out there still, sitting on a log and wondering what the hell she’d been thinking taking up this silly new pastime.

  Before she knew it, she was grinning.

  Okay, so it was crazy. A dedicated city girl buying a kayak and teaching herself to paddle with YouTube videos and a lot of trial and error? That was nuts.

  It was also a lot of fun.

  She’d definitely been enjoying herself, even after she’d rolled at the edge of the muddy bank. Her paddle had gotten away from her, so she’d had to drag the kayak through a knee-deep mud bog trying to reach the shore. She might have fallen in once or twice, losing any hope that her white Donna Karan T-shirt would ever be white again.

  But she’d gotten the damn paddle back, and she’d even had a little fun doing it. Out there on that pond, she’d thought about her dad a lot. She’d remembered his laughter, the way his cheeks would glow pink and dimpled after a long bike ride. She remembered the way he used to come in with snow in his beard and light in his eyes and a big hug for his only daughter.

  This is living, baby girl.

  She got it now.

  Which still didn’t get her into her house.

  She sighed and stared at her front door. All this standing around grinning like an idiot wasn’t getting her any closer to a shower. She could just knock on a neighbor’s door and ask to borrow a phone. Holly had an extra key to her house, so that might work.

  Of course, she hadn’t checked the windows yet on the other side of the house. She turned and jogged that way, rounding the corner into the backyard as she tried to recall if she’d locked the back door. She always did, but maybe she’d forgotten. Or maybe she’d left the bathroom window cracked. Or maybe—

  “Hello there.”

  Miriam jumped at the sound of his voice. And at the sight of three vases of flowers and endless platters of food spread out on her picnic table. She froze in her tracks, gaping at Jason standing there in the middle of it all wearing a three-piece suit and a hopeful smile.

  “Holy shit!” she gasped.

  “Now now,” he said, grinning as he pulled the cork out of a bottle of wine. “Profanity at the dinner table is unprofessional. Of course, I’m not here for professional reasons, so swear all you want.”

  Miriam stared, dumbfounded. Her table was covered with a white linen cloth and more plates than she could count, each one topped with a silver cloche. There were polished sterling utensils that looked like the real deal, maybe antique.

  “They belonged to my grandparents,” he said, reading her mind. “Ellie helped me get them out of storage. Then she went with me to a wine-tasting class so I could learn to stop slaughtering the names of the varietals and start ordering wine like a grown-up.” He grinned and picked up a red wine glass. “Can I interest you in a glass of 2012 Viña Carmen Cabernet Sauvignon Maipo Valley Alto Gran Reserva? It’s rich and well-spiced with ninety-one points from Wine Spectator, but also very affordable at under fifteen dollars a bottle. I’m a CEO on a budget, after all.”

  “What the—” She stopped, not sure which question she should be asking first. “How did you—” She shook her head. “Wait, how did you and Ellie go to a class together? I thought you wouldn’t ever leave Henry with a sitter?”

  “That’s the thing.” He looked down as he poured the wine carefully into two glasses. “It turns out the nurse babysitter is really great, and I was being an overprotective dumbass.” He set the bottle down and looked at her. “As a matter of fact, I was being a dumbass about a lot of things.”

  She glanced down at the mud puddle pooling around her feet. Her legs were streaked with mud. Her arms were streaked with mud. Hell, she had mud in her underwear.

  And to think she used to worry about running into an ex on a bad hair day.

  She looked back up and met his eyes again. “How were you being a dumbass?”

  “I thought I couldn’t do it all,” he said. “I couldn’t be a good CEO and a good uncle and a good brother and still have anything left over for a relationship. For you.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I was wrong.”

  I was wrong. God, what was it about those three words? So much harder to utter than “I love you” or “I want you.” It took a damn big man to say them.

  Jason Sanders was a big man. A really big man.

  Still, he had given up on her.

  “You think I’m just going to nod and smile and everything will go back to the way it was?” she asked.

  “Hell, no. I think you’re going to bust my balls over this. You have every right to.”

  “You kinda broke my heart.” It sounded a little cheesy when she said it out loud, but it was true, dammit. The memory of him telling her good-bye at urgent care made her chest ache even now.

  “I don’t take that lightly,” he said. “But I plan to do my best to piece it all back together. Duct tape works wonders.”

  This time, she couldn’t fight the smile. “I’m sorry, too,” she said as she brushed a muddy curl from her eye. “For rushing things. For not giving you space to ease into the idea of a relationship.”

  “Please,” he muttered. “You don’t owe me an apology for that. I don’t want any space. I just want to be with you. Smother me all you want, woman.”

  Miriam smiled as her heart begin to melt in her chest. “You should probably take a rain check on the smothering,” she said, then took a few steps closer to peer at the perfectly set table and the perfectly dressed man standing beside it. “At least until I can break into my house to take a shower. I can’t believe you haven’t commented yet on my appearance.”

  “A wise woman once told me it’s not polite to ask a lady personal questions about her age or relationship status,” he said as a blob of mud dripped off the hem of her shirt and spattered the tip of his polished shoe. Jason didn’t flinch. “I figured maybe that extended to asking whether she’s started a career as a professional mud wrestler.”

  “Close,” she said, wiping her hands on her shorts before she remembered those were mud-soaked, too. “If your survival skills happen to extend to picking a lock, maybe you can get me into my house?”

  “I’m not much of a lock picker, but I met a great locksmith a few weeks ago. If I call him, I can have you inside in a matter of minutes.”

  “In that case, maybe I’ll wait and tell you all about this in the shower.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is that an invitation?”

  She smiled and nodded, not sure whether she felt giddier at the prospect of having Jason polished and professional at her dinner table or wet and soapy in her shower. The knowledge that she could have both was exhilarating.

  She gestured toward the table. “I don’t want all this to go to waste. Will dinner keep for a little bit?”

  “Not a problem. It’s all reheatable. I made chicken breasts braised in white wine with artichoke hearts and a side of kale and shallots sautéed with lemon juice. I might have burned the kale a little, but if we just—”

  “Wait, did you say you made it?”

  He nodded. “That’s what I’m telling you. I learned to eat and cook nice food. I learned to pronounce and appreciate the wine that goes with it. I learned to let go of some of my overprotective bullshit and trust that my family’s going to be okay without me supervising their every breath. And I learned to beat corporate executives at their own damn game. But you want to know the most important thing I learned?”

  “What?” Miriam breathed, almost afraid to ask. Almost certain her heart was going to burst right out of her chest.

  “None of that would have been possible without you.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “I love you, Miriam. And I’m a better man when I’m with you. Give me a chance to prove it.”

  “You already have.” She took
a step closer, closing the gap between them. She reached for his hand and smiled up into those blue, blue eyes. “I love you, too.”

  “Awesome.” He grinned, squeezing her hand so hard the mud squished between her fingers. “Now about that shower…”

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go get dirty.”

  Epilogue

  Jason spotted the finish line up ahead, but instead of speeding up, he slowed his pace just a little. He wasn’t waiting for Miriam. Hell, she was trucking along beside him like she had energy left to burn, which she probably did. The woman was a powerhouse, not just in the boardroom and bedroom, but also in competitive sports.

  “There he is!” Miriam grinned and pointed to the edge of the racecourse, barely seeming to notice they were running through ankle-deep mud.

  Jason felt himself grinning, too, at the sight of Henry scrambling out onto the course. The boy wore red track shorts and a superman cape, and his little prescription goggles shielded his eyes from flying mud.

  Miriam beamed at Henry as he scurried over, and Jason felt his heart surge the way it always did when he watched her interact with his family.

  “Hey, buddy!” She high-fived Henry, spattering mud and making him giggle like a maniac. “You ready to do this?”

  “Uh-huh.” The kid fell into step beside them, stomping extra hard in a puddle as he ran. “Mommy says I’m gonna get mud everywhere. In my ears and in my nose. Probably even on my wiener.”

  “Probably so,” Jason acknowledged as he ruffled his nephew’s hair. “That’s half the fun of a Tough Mudder.”

  “Getting dirty has its advantages,” Miriam agreed, and Jason had to fight the urge to send her a knowing look.

  Henry stomped in another puddle, whooping with joy as he ran. Miriam followed suit, laughing as the mud sloshed up her spectacular calves. Then she jumped with expert precision through a field of mud-covered tires.

  Jason’s heart felt ready to burst, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they’d just run ten miles through a mud-slick obstacle course. It had everything to do with the woman running beside him, the one brushing a glob of mud off her face as she grabbed hold of his hand, then Henry’s.