Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She staked out a table while Dane ordered espresso for himself and a latte for her. He always knew exactly what she wanted. She watched him charm the barista, laugh with the other customers, and make the young woman in line behind him look to see if he wore a wedding ring.
He was just so… likable. Sexy. Drool-worthy. And the perfect boss.
But right now, she wanted to squeal her delight like a child who’d just won a stuffed animal at a carnival. She couldn’t have been happier with how well the meeting had gone. She’d answered every question as if she knew what she was talking about. Which she did. She’d put together the slides, found example photos, worked out square footage, looked at cost estimates. The Mavericks hadn’t looked to Dane for answers. They’d listened to her. And now she overflowed with triumph.
The feeling was momentous. As she’d talked, she’d realized she wanted this project with every fiber of her being. It was the project of a lifetime.
She could do it. Sure, her nerves could get the better of her every once in a while. But she’d worked with Dane on so many projects. She had all the contacts they needed. He came to her often enough, asking who they should call about this and who they needed for that. If she let this project slip through her fingers because of a few nerves, she’d regret it forever.
She wouldn’t let fear get the better of her.
When he finally returned to their table, setting the perfect latte in front of her and pulling his seat close to hers, she managed to say the words she absolutely had to.
“You know I love working with you, Dane. It’s been totally great.”
Something like panic flared in his eyes, and he pressed her hand tightly. For a man who always knew the right words, Dane actually stammered. “No, wait—please, let me—”
She cut him off. “Just hear me out, okay?” She pushed through her nerves, pushed through her memories of all the bad days with her uncle, pushed through the grief and the moments where she’d felt powerless to help him. “I’ve been your assistant for twelve years.” She pressed her lips together when unbidden tears wanted to rush to her eyes. Maybe it was her uncle. Maybe it was all those good years with Dane. Or maybe it was the night that started it all.
Dane grabbed her hand, held on a little too tightly. “Cammie, please.”
She reclaimed her hand to say what she had to. “I’m ready for a promotion. I don’t want to be just an assistant on this project. I want to manage it.”
He sat back, hand dropping to his lap, staring at her as if she’d never shown him this side of herself before.
Maybe she hadn’t.
Then he puffed out a snort. “Now why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He shook his head, something like wonder widening his eyes. “Of course you’ll do the best job. Everything we talked about in that meeting was your idea.” He tapped his temple. “In fact, I think the original idea was yours.”
She couldn’t remember anymore. It didn’t matter. Because, miracle of miracles, he’d agreed. “I might need some help.” She was stepping out of her comfort zone, but she needed to do this. “But I’m ready to try it.”
He pointed his finger at her nose. “You’re my idea genius.” Genius. Before she’d always been his idea genie, as if what they did together was magic. But now she was already promoted. To genius.
“You can bounce things off me,” he said. “Just the way I bounce things off you. But you can do this.”
She might never be one hundred percent in control of her nervousness. But was anyone—except Dane? She’d settle for ninety-nine. “Thank you. We’ll absolutely do our normal idea exchange.”
They always would, because she would never let anything get in the way of what they had together.
* * *
Cammie left to use the powder room.
That moment had stretched on endlessly, when he’d believed she was going to quit. Her beloved uncle was no longer her responsibility. Which meant she didn’t need this job, because she could now work anywhere. The rules he’d always thought protected her had protected him from losing her. And now, she didn’t need either anymore—not the job, not the rules. And not him.
But his heart rate was under control once more. He could breathe again. Cammie wasn’t leaving.
Dane wished he could be his own punching bag. How stupid could a man be?
Cammie had worked for him for twelve years without a single promotion. And because he was thoughtless and selfish, he’d been holding her back all along. He’d kept her in the place he wanted her to be instead of helping her get to the place she needed to be. She was his idea genius, not his genie, as if she conjured things out of smoke. She was so intelligent, so competent. She even told him when he was going in the wrong direction, sometimes knowing it before he did. She was his right-hand woman, not just his girl Friday. She wasn’t a girl at all, but a resourceful, thoughtful, caring, loyal woman.