Boomerang (17 page)

Mom tugs off the lid of the serving dish, and I gasp. A surprised
what-kind-of-freakin’-alchemy-is-this?
-kind of gasp. Because the food looks, and smells, normal. Tantalizing, even. As a plus, it also resembles actual food—chicken in some kind of sauce. Things I actually recognize as root vegetables.

Mouths drop open in surprised “O’s” all around the table. Except for my mom’s, which presses into an exasperated line. My dad’s in trouble, but dinner’s saved.

“Wow, that smells different,” Ethan blurts. He flushes and tries to recover. “I mean delicious.”

Nana laughs and pats Ethan on the arm. “Nice try, young man.”

Dinner is dished, and we all settle into comfortable conversation.

“What kind of things have you and Ethan been getting up to in the office?” my mother asks.

I almost choke on my wine but realize she means the
Boomerang
office. “Well, we’ve really only just started, mom. But we’re working on a branding campaign.”

“Rebranding,
actually,” Adam corrects. “I’ve asked Ethan and Mia to help push the Boomerang brand forward. They’re working on boosting our presence at an upcoming trade show in Las Vegas.”

“Speaking of which,” Ethan inserts, smoothly, “Mia and I have been wanting to talk to you about the display design.”

We focus on Adam while we give our pitch, but really it’s like we’re talking to one another, like we’re a perfectly tuned machine.

“It could be so much livelier,” I tell Adam. “Sexy and bold. It could really speak to the people you’re trying to reach. The current design—” I look to Ethan for help.

“Just speaks to lazy people who want a place to sit,” he finishes. “It’s a lounge, sure, but like an airport lounge. It doesn’t have real life. It’s not—”

“Romantic,” I say, warming up and doing half my speaking with my hands. “Or adventurous. Or new.”

“Or cool,” adds Ethan.

“Exactly! No matter what we come up with, or how we
want
to brand Boomerang, it’s going to fall flat in that space.”

“Like sticking the Mona Lisa on a shelf at a drugstore,” says Ethan. His eyes have this keen, competitive gleam in them now. He’s in his natural state. Relaxed, charged with enthusiasm.

Jesus Christ, I want him.

Adam laughs. “So the two of you are creating the Mona Lisas of media presentations? Is that right?”

“Damn right,” says Ethan.

I nod. “We could, with a more inspiring backdrop. Let us do something else with the display.”

“Whatever you have in mind better be worth the wrath of Cookie.”

Ethan and I look at each other.

Crumbs. Cookie.

“I’m sure Cookie wants the best for the company,” Ethan says. “And we want to make the most of this opportunity.”

“Okay,” says Adam, holding up a hand to halt the barrage. “I’m sold. New display design, whatever you want it to be. Within the budget, of course. Which is plenty generous. You split it down the middle—each take ownership of a half. The two pieces have to feel organic, but they also have to reflect you and your specific view of the Boomerang brand. Got it?”

“Perfect,” I say, my mind already working over possibilities. This is going to be
fun
. “I know we’re both up to the challenge.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Adam dabs the corner of his lip with a napkin and then rises. “Speaking of challenges, you’ve reminded me of my plan for next week.”

“What plan?” asks Ethan.

“Field research,” he says. “Next Wednesday, you both start dating.”

Chapter 22

Ethan

Q: How do you fight your battles: cold shoulder or shouting match?

W
hat did you just say?” I brace my elbows on the table, feeling the seams of Mr. Galliano’s shirt strain and pop.

Adam looks at me calmly. “Dates,” he repeats. “To give the company product a test-drive, so to speak. A firsthand understanding of the service we offer. It’s not mandatory, but hardly anyone passes on the opportunity. And obviously the commitment is only to spend a few hours with one of our matches, nothing more.”

He keeps talking, going on about how he thought Rhett had told us, how it’s something he suggests to all his single new hires, but my focus shifts to Mia. She looks a little pale, but it’s hard to tell under the candlelight. Still, I can tell she’s reacting to this way better than me. I have no doubt that Dark Ethan just showed up again. But what the hell kind of job is this? I’m already working for free. Now I have to surrender my fucking social life, too?

That’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is the idea of Mia being subjected to spending a night with some of the scumbags I’m sure use Boomerang strictly for hookups.

Mother. Fucking.
Bullshit
.

Adam breaks off whatever he was saying. “Do you have a problem with this, Ethan? I’d never force an employee into an uncomfortable situation. In fact, I had my assistant Lena schedule your dates at the same location and time, thinking you two might find it easier, more like any other work assignment. It would allow you to compare notes afterward. And, I’ll admit I’m a little old-fashioned on this point, but I like the idea of you keeping an eye on Mia.”

Adam smiles, lifting his glass in her direction. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Mia. I know
you
can handle yourself, but
I
would feel more at ease knowing Ethan is there.”

“Having Ethan there is a
great
idea,” Pearl says, looking at me with those sharp eyes.

“Yes,” agrees Mr. Galliano. “That would ease my conscience too.”

Uh-huh,
I think.
You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew I was parked between your daughter’s legs ten minutes ago.

Suddenly, I’m swimming in anger and lust. My eyes fall to the wine glass in front of me. I tip it back, needing something to chill me the hell out.

“Um . . . when is this all happening?” Mia asks.

“Wednesday night is the first one. I think there are two more scheduled later in the week as well.”

“Oh—kay,” Mia says. “That sounds—great.”

“Three dates to look forward to!” Nana chirps. “How wonderful!”

Adam nods. “Could provide just the edge you two need to come up with the perfect displays for the conference.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely provide some edge,” I say.

Mia shoots me a warning look, and then says, “Hey, did you know Ethan learned to play soccer in a bowling alley?”

That sends the conversation in a completely different direction. I was at the brink of letting Adam know exactly how I feel about his idea. Mia sensed it—and saved me.

Everyone is delighted when I tell them that I learned to shoot on bowling pins. How charming, they say. But really it was just a lack of options. I couldn’t always afford to play in indoor leagues or traveling teams, so I played soccer where I could.

I know Mia meant well by bringing up this anecdote, but all I want to do is get up from this goddamn table. I don’t even taste the food, but the wine goes down just fine.

Once our meal is over, I help Mia bring the dishes into the kitchen, then Mr. Galliano produces dessert—a crème brûlée that he torches at the table, which Adam swears is the best he’s ever had.

Suckup.

Mia and I stand to take dish duty again, but as soon as we set the plates down, she grabs my hand and tows me into a little alcove, hidden away from the dining room. We share the space with a sculpture that looks like the discard pile at an auto shop.

“Are you okay with this?” she asks.

“The dates? Hell no. Are
you
?”

She shakes her head, but there’s something in her eyes I don’t like.

“What is it, Mia?”

“This job, Ethan. You need this job.”

I’m not crazy about the way she says
need
. It hits too close to home.

I don’t have a house like this. I don’t own a pile of metal that’s probably worth a million bucks in a special alcove. I literally don’t even own the shirt on my back.

“You’re right. I do need it. What about you, Mia? Why are you doing this? You don’t need it for your grandma’s documentary. You’re obviously not strapped for cash.”

Mia’s mouth drops open. “Ethan . . . Am I supposed to justify myself to you? Just because I’m not desperate for the money doesn’t mean this job isn’t important to me. It could mean my career, something I build on my . . .” She shakes her head like she doesn’t want to go there. “Look. I’m just confused by all this.”

“I’m not,” I lie. I don’t know what I want anymore. I’m pissed. So fucking pissed. And the goddamn gallon of wine I drank during dinner is making my head spin. “There’s no problem here, Mia. We got carried away earlier. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“We agreed we wouldn’t have any romantic attachments with people we work with, and we haven’t broken that rule. We messed around a little, but it wasn’t anything . . .”

Wasn’t anything
what
, Ethan? Amazing? Incredible? You fucking
liar
. It was all of that.
All
of it.

But I can’t stop. I’m not her ex. I don’t backpedal or waver on shit, and I’m not starting now.

So I try again. “What I’m trying to say is that what happened between us was nothing . . .”

“Nothing,” she repeats flatly, but I see the hurt in her eyes.

“Nothing we can’t bounce back from, I mean. We just have to get back to what we’re both really after. The job.”

I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. I want to kiss her again. I want her against me. I want me against her against the wall.

I
do not
want her dating other guys.

A sick taste crawls up the back of my throat, and an ache builds in my chest that I haven’t felt in weeks. In two months, to be exact, when I walked into Alison’s apartment and found her in bed with her research assistant.

And I realize, suddenly, what’s got me so fucked in the head.

I do not share nicely.

And I’m not putting myself anywhere near that kind of shit again.

Chapter 23