Page 5 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

brIDGET

I entered the office, loaded down with bags from the deli. The meeting with Maverick James from Denver had started ten minutes ago, but my job wasn’t to sit in on it, but to feed everyone.

After the coffee shop fiasco, I’d settled in at my desk and finalized the reports for my boss. He’d taken the printout I handed him, tore off the top sheet with my name on it, tossed it into the recycle bin, then told me to get everyone’s lunch order.

Jemma, the office receptionist, had given me a commiserating look and helped. She couldn’t leave her desk since she had to answer phones. I, on the other hand, had free time to run out since I hadn’t been invited to the meeting.

She was well aware of how much of a little shit Jason was, but neither of us had any way to complain.

There was no human resources locally, only at James Corp headquarters in Denver.

Since he’d come from that office, it didn’t seem like they were interested in him being an asshole.

He was a misogynist who liked me as an assistant so he could ogle my ass and use my brain to his advantage.

Jemma and I were the only locals hired to James Corp for the project, the rest came from Denver with Jason to be the core crew. A local general contractor dealt with the various elements of the work such as sub-contracting for concrete and electrical.

I didn’t want to lose my job, but Jemma was a single mother who needed the steady paycheck and didn’t dare complain. While I didn’t have kids, I was saving up money so I didn’t have to live with my sister for much longer.

So when I pushed through the front entry, barely able to see over the tops of the bags, Jemma dashed around her desk and opened the conference room door for me.

“The shingles are behind at the manufacturers in Salt Lake. Delivery delays.”

I didn’t look up as I set the bags down on the large table as Jason spoke, pulling out wrapped sandwiches and reading the scrawl on them to figure out what kind they were.

It was the lack of response that had me lifting my gaze.

Everyone was staring at me. Jason. Ed, the engineer. Bixby, the local general contractor. And–

Him.

The guy from the coffee shop. He was the only person in the room I didn’t know, which meant he was–

Holy crap.

Maverick James.

I spilled coffee all over my boss’s boss. One of the James Corporation’s owners.

I made a billionaire boss wear a pink Steaming Hotties t-shirt.

I stared at him. He stared at me. I tried not to cower because… God. His eyes narrowed.

“Bridget’s brought lunch. Your assistant shared that you liked roast beef.”

Jason’s words had me blinking and I’d never been so thankful for the task of playing waitress, pulling out and dispersing the sandwiches, bags of chips and cans of soda.

“Bridget?” His deep voice had me swallowing. Now I couldn’t look his way if my life depended on it.

“Yes, my assistant,” Jason prompted.

Ed and Bixby offered thanks as I handed them their food. We’d worked together earlier on the issues and I finalized them into the report. I liked them both, unlike Jason the Jerk.

I went around the table, set the roast beef before Maverick James. He stood and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. I pushed my glasses up.

“Bridget Beckett.” I reached my hand out to introduce myself, not because I hadn’t done so at the coffee shop, which I hadn’t, but because I was at work and it was the appropriate thing to do.

His big hand engulfed mine once again.

“Maverick James,” he said, offering me a smile.

He stared.

I stared.

He stared some more.

I noticed his eyes were so brown as to be almost black. That whiskers had come in across his strong jaw since I saw him last. Two hours earlier. That someone was clearing their throat.

It wasn’t me.

It wasn’t Mr. James.

It was Jason. Shit… I yanked my hand back and spun on my heel. Heat filled my cheeks and I bolted out the door and leaned against the wall just outside the conference room as if my body weight was needed to hold it up.

Jemma swiveled her chair around behind her desk and grinned. “He’s gorgeous, right?” she whispered so only I could hear and fanned herself, just like Eve had.

“What about the cost increases?” I heard Mr. James’ voice through the open doorway.

“I’ve been working on a report for you,” Jason replied.

I looked up at the ceiling tiles thinking of the report I’d worked on.

“Can I see it?” Mr. James asked. “I own the company and came personally from corporate, Jason, because the cost is up twenty-two percent and–”

“My assistant has it,” he said, cutting him off and trying to quickly placate. “She fetches reports as well as she does food. Bridget!”

Asshole.

His shout had me pushing off the wall, then taking a deep breath. I could do this. I could swallow down Jason’s patronizing and misogyny while being in a room with Mr. James, who’d held my hand and called me beautiful. I grabbed a copy of the report from my desk and carried it in.

“I need the report,” Jason said, although I had no idea why he hadn’t brought in the one I gave him earlier.

I held the stapled pages up letting him know I had them, then handed them to Mr. James.

Mr. James’ eyes met mine.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice much softer than what he’d used for Jason’s scolding. I was halfway to the door when he called out. “Take a seat, Bridget.”

I glanced his way, then at Ed and Bixby, who only shrugged. They were both easy going and helpful, and also not big fans of Jason. Since he ran the project, they did what he said, even if it had been messing with the entire project. Enough that the CEO himself was here.

I pulled out a chair and settled into it at the far end of the huge table from Mr. James.

Mr. James unwrapped his sandwich and Ed and Bixby followed after. I sat with my hands folded in my lap.

“Aren’t you eating, Bridget?” Mr. James asked when he noticed I was the only one without a lunch.

I pushed my glasses up again. “I’ll… I’ll eat later, Mr. James.”

“Maverick,” he corrected. “And your answer means you didn’t get a sandwich for yourself.” He picked up one half of his sub and stood, carrying it along with a few napkins, around the table and set it in front of me. “Eat.”

I looked from him to the others, then looked down, not wanting to draw attention to myself. The last thing I expected was to be part of this meeting.

Mr. James–Maverick–settled in his seat, waited for me to take a bite of the sandwich before he took one of his own. As he chewed, he opened the report and scanned it.

“Tell me about this,” he said to Jason.

“Bixby,” Jason said, diverting. He shoved a huge bite of ham and cheese into his mouth most likely so he wouldn’t have to answer anything else.

Bixby was in his late thirties, a few years older than my sister.

He grew up here in the valley like I had, but we were far enough apart in age that we didn’t cross paths much.

He’d been running his family’s construction company with his father since college, but his dad had retired a few years ago and he ran it solo now.

He loved to ski and played the banjo of all things.

“There was some confusion with the size of the event space,” Bixby explained. “The square footage was off. That was the basis for the cost variation.”

The event space was for weddings and other celebrations and connected to the inn by an enclosed breezeway.

“Two thousand, five hundred sixty-six and a half square feet instead of two thousand eight hundred something,” Maverick said, making my head whip up.

Maverick wasn’t looking at the report, he was looking at Bixby as he shared the numbers.

A piece of shredded lettuce fell from my mouth, and I grabbed a napkin to conceal my chewing. And amazement. Because those were the numbers I’d told Bixby on the phone at the coffee shop. Maverick had heard my half of the conversation and remembered them.

Bixby’s eyes widened, then he grinned. “That’s right. You’ll find the costs will be more in line with the original projections with that fix. Schedule, too.”

Maverick nodded. “Good. That’s good news, Jason.”

I set my sandwich down, watched as Jason preened under Maverick’s praise. For work he didn’t do. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry. Or happy.