How He Really Feels (He Feels Trilogy) (15 page)

Wednesday?
I thought he had said Monday?

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. The only way I can get that done is by hiring extra staff to complete the project.” He paused as he listened to the complaints from Richard. “I apologize for the mistake. I can assure you that Julianne feels terrible for the oversight, and I guarantee that she will be reprimanded and this infraction will remain in her permanent file. However, I also must tell you that if I hire extra staff to complete the project over a weekend, I won’t be able to offer any discount.”

I understood his game, now.

“Your choice, Mr. Cabrillo.”

Nick looked so sexy sitting behind his desk, talking business on the phone. He was in control and direct and it was hot. I could sit in that chair and watch him all day long. But apparently I had a ton of work to do before I could start my weekend.

“Fine.
I will personally hand-deliver them on Monday. Please accept my apologies on behalf of McMillan.”

Nick hung up the phone and grinned at me.

“Nice work, Matthews,” I grinned. “So not even a discount?”

He shook his head.

“Damn. You’re good at what you do.”

“It’s my job, baby.”

“It’s impressive that you managed to get the deadline moved with no consequences.”

“The key to business is smooth talking.”

“You’re good at it.”

He smiled. “Now go get to work. I’ll bring you lunch a little later and check in on you.”

“Thank you for what you did. You saved my ass today.”

He raised both of his eyebrows at me. “Don’t get us in a situation where I need to do it again.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Typically the turnaround for a marketing plan at McMillan was about four weeks, but that never meant working full time on any one project. I had completed all of the research for the project already, and I had reviewed the company’s goals and current marketing plan. In my initial meeting with Cabrillo’s team, we had come up with marketing objectives together, and then I had studied the market behavior to include with my report (demographics, trends particular to social media and competition, etc.). I had already drafted several logos for rebranding and I had a team in ads that had come up with several ideas for new slogans. I had planned on using the majority of that Friday to come up with the key strategies related to advertising and social media (including things like flyers, print ads, direct mail ideas, electronic marketing strategies, Google Ad words, and current website management), finishing that Monday and figuring out the budget
and a timeframe, and then using Tuesday and Wednesday to finish writing the plan with all of the essential pieces in place. But now that timeline was shot to hell and I had to have it all done by Monday.

I worked my ass off for Nick, as clearly I wasn’t motivated by Cabrillo calling me “useless.” My first goal was to rewrite my timeline. I figured if I chipped away at this one step at a time, it would all get done. I just had to maintain focus. By my calculations, I could finish the advertising and social media and Nick could help me with the budget and timeframe before we left for Payson, and then I could write the final copy of the plan over the weekend. It typically took me about ten hours to finish writing a marketing plan after I had all of the pieces in place, and I still had to finish getting those pieces into place. If I got that done by the end of the day and got started on the final
plan, that would mean less time spent on work over the weekend and more time spent on Nick.

Lunchtime came and
went, the only sign of it my growling stomach. Nick appeared a little after 1:30 with my favorite sandwich from the deli and a diet Dr. Pepper. I looked up at him in worship, my hero bringing me provisions for survival.

“How’s it going?” he asked, taking a seat next to me.

I took a huge bite of my sandwich. “Good. Getting a lot done.”

I handed him my “To Do List,” showing him what I had accomplished thus far. He seemed impressed.

“We can easily get this done in a few hours,” he said, pointing to the section I had blocked off for the weekend.

“I agree.”

“Good work, Julianne,” he said, smiling.

I grinned, loving the way he looked at me with admiration and lust and even perhaps love.

He had his Friday afternoon meeting with Davidson and the other bigwigs, so I kept working. Before I knew it, it was 5:00, and I had finished all print ideas and was in the midst of electronic marketing when Nick appeared before me.

“My meeting’s over and I’m here to help. Tell me what to do,” he said, loosening his tie and taking a seat next to me, setting down his iPad on my workspace.

“How are you with budgets and timeframes?”

“Expert level.”

“Excellent. I’ll email you the file and you can start putting that together.”

“It’s my favorite part of a marketing plan.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“I loathe that part. I like the creative side.”

“That’s what makes us a good team.”

I smiled and sent the file, and then I kept drafting my ideas for the electronic plan as Nick tapped away at his iPad beside me.

It was nearly 7:00 before I heard my stomach growling.

Nick heard it, too. “Want to order some dinner?” he asked.

“I’m about done with the electronic plan.”

“Fantastic. That was fast.”

“Expert level,” I grinned.

“Well I’ve got a few finishing touches on the budget, but the timeframe is done. Why don’t we each finish and then we’ll call it a night?”

I nodded, satisfied with that plan. A half an hour later, after I had saved all of the files in two places and emailed them to myself (just in case – you can never have enough copies of your work), we headed down to our cars.

“I’ve got some leftovers in my fridge. Is that okay for dinner?” I asked.

“That’s fine with me. We can eat and run.”

“See you at my place,” I said, and we both got in our cars. Ten minutes later, we pulled into my parking lot, and I led us both up to my apartment.

I heated some leftover pasta and toasted some bread to go with our meal. We pulled together enough ingredients to create a salad, too, and then we sat down to eat.

“So this isn’t exactly the start to the weekend I was hoping for,” I said.

“I know. But who cares? We’re together, and that’s what really matters.”

“You’re right. Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry again that I missed the deadline.”

“It’s okay, baby. You can stop being sorry now. We’ve got the plan and you got a shitload done today. A few hours tomorrow and we should be finished.”

I smiled in response, wondering how I got so lucky to have this man in my life.

After we ate, Nick grabbed my overnight bag and we headed down to his car. Usually the trip to Payson went quickly because it was so scenic, but it was pitch black at 9:00 at night in the dead of winter. Instead, the trip went quickly because I got to spend alone time with Nick.

Nick punched the address for the cabin into his GPS and we were off. Once we got onto the highway, Nick said, “Open the glove box.”

I did as instructed.

“There’s a little book in there. See it? It’s called
The Book of Questions
.”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Up for a challenge?” he asked, glancing at me.

“Always,” I smiled.

“So when I was young, before my dad died, whenever we went on a road trip, he and my mother would ask each other questions out of that book. And sometimes they would ask my brother and me, too, if they were age-appropriate questions. All you do is open to a random page and ask the question. Then everyone in the car has to answer honestly.”

“Okay,” I said, flipping open the book and clicking on the little light above the rearview mirror so I could see.
“Question 200. In conversations, do you tend to listen or talk more?” I turned off the light for our answers, figuring it was distracting to drive through the mountains with the light on in the dark.

“Listen.”

“Yeah, I could see that about you. You’re really good at listening.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. What about you?”

“It depends on the situation.”

“How?”

“Well, if I’m talking to you about a work situation, obviously I’m going to talk more to explain what’s happening.”

“I think the question means in general, not in a specific work situation.”

“I probably talk more. Do you think?”

“If we’re both listeners, no one would ever be talking.”

“True. Okay, ready for another one?”

“Sure.”

I flipped the book open randomly again and used my cell phone light to read the question. “Question 104. Would you be willing to give up sex for five years if you could have wonderfully sensual and erotic dreams any night you wished?”

“Oh, fuck no. Not after having sex with you. I want to be wide awake and enjoying every second.”

Good thing it was dark; my cheeks turned red.

“Well thank you. That was sweet.”

“If you think about it, it’s actually kind of crude.”

“Yeah, it is. But I’m with you on that one. Hell no, I’m not giving up sex for five years. Not if it means sex with you for five years.”

Shit. I realized after I said it that I was assuming we were serious enough to still be together in five years. I didn’t want to push him into labeling what we had. I didn’t want to be the one to initiate that conversation; it had only been a few weeks, after all.

“Hmm, five years of sex?
Sounds good to me.” He grinned at me, and I smiled back, feeling like I dodged a bullet there. “Give me another question,” he said.

“37. What was your best experience with drugs or alcohol? Your worst experience?”

“Shit. This just got deep fast.”

“We can skip it,” I said.

“That’s okay. This was my idea. My best experience was with alcohol, not drugs. I’ve had a lot of good times drunk, but one that stands out in particular is this past New Year’s Eve.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“If I hadn’t had three tequila shots, I never would’ve gotten up the nerve to find you at midnight for that kiss. And none of this ever would’ve started.”

“Good answer.” I looked at his profile as he drove, the lights from the dashboard illuminating his face in the dark.

He smiled. “Truthful.”

“And your worst?”

“I was drugged in college. It sounds stupid, especially because I’m a guy, but I was a freshman and I didn’t know any better. I set my drink down and went to the bathroom, and then I picked it back up and drank it. I don’t remember anything about that night, but I was taken to the hospital. They found a combination of Rohypnol and Ecstasy in my system and with the combination of a shit ton of alcohol along with the drugs, the doctors had to pump my stomach.”

“Geez.
That sounds scary.”

“It would have been if I had been conscious for any of it. My friends told me that it was scary for them.”

“How did they know to take you to the hospital?”

“I passed out. I was unresponsive and they got scared.”

“Did you get in trouble for underage drinking?”

He nodded. “I was put on probation for six weeks and had to do community service.”

“Sounds like a rough hangover.”

“It was. I didn’t mind the service part; I think I might have enjoyed it if it wasn’t a punishment. So now I try to do some sort of volunteer work once a month.”

“You do?” I was surprised. And for as much as we talked about having known each other for a year before we got together, it still seemed like I was still learning something new about him every day.

He nodded.

“Where do you volunteer?”

“It varies. I’ve volunteered at soup kitchens, retirement homes, the zoo,
children’s hospitals.”

“You’re amazing.” I felt a tingle in my heart. I knew in my heart that I was officially in love with this man, and my life would be forever changed because of it.

“Nah. Lots of people volunteer.”

“I think it’s really sweet that you do that.”

“What about your best and worst experiences with alcohol or drugs?”

“Well, I liked your answer about New Year’s Eve. But honestly, I didn’t get smashed until later. I don’t know if I have a ‘best’ experience.
Lots of little good ones.”

“Then what’s your most recent one?”

“New Year’s Eve. After you left, I didn’t know if you had really been there or if I had imagined it. But I figured it was time to celebrate either way. So I got drunk on champagne and danced the night away with my best friends, happy that the guy I had had a crush on for a year finally kissed me.”

“Sounds like fun.”