Page 1 of The Merger

Chapter One

Carys

“I can’t just get over it. It was limp!”

Tate Brewer eyes me with skepticism as if my emphatic declaration in the middle of the Brewer Group lobby is overly dramatic.

“It’s downright embarrassing,” I continue, holding his gaze. “I can’t believeyouaren’t humiliated. Soft and shriveled is not a good look.”

He sighs as Amanda, the executive level receptionist, giggles behind him.

“No one wants todo businesswith someone with a flaccid shaft, Tate,” I say, fighting a grin.

He looks over his shoulder at Amanda. “For the record, she isn’t talking about me.”

“Of course, I’m not talking about you.” I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t be gross.”

“You two kill me,” Amanda says, outright laughing.

“Don’t encourage her.” Tate shakes his head as he passes the desk. “Carys, follow me before you corrupt our entire staff.”

I follow my best friend down the long hallway toward his office. “It was nice to see you again, Amanda.”

“It was great to see you, too,” she says, her words echoing down the corridor after me.

The Brewer Group office building never fails to dazzle me. Rich, tobacco-colored walls, elegant brass accents, and showroom-worthy furniture create an ambience of understated luxury. Even the air is scented like a five-star hotel. Light pours in from tall windows, offering unobstructed views of Nashville. It brings liveliness to the space, helping to offset the sadness created by the dying plants in the downstairs lobby.

Tate holds his office door open as I step inside.

“I’m glad one of us benefits from the free slot in my afternoon schedule,” I say, sliding Tate’s driver’s license across his desk before plopping into an overstuffed chair. I place my iced matcha latte on the table next to me.

“I thought you were booked up again?”

“Nope.” I watch Tate drop into his office chair. “I met with a woman last week who asked me to start Monday. But she called this morning and canceled.” I make a sour face. “I guess she’s fine with committing planticide because I’ve seen her ficus. It won’t survive, and she’ll have its chlorophyll on her hands.”

Tate snorts. “Planticide?”

“Humans taking the life of plants.”

“What if it was unintentional? Maybe it’s just plantslaughter?”

I narrow my eyes at him, making him laugh.

“I don’t find this funny,” I say. “I’m one rent payment away from returning to work for my mother. And while I love the woman dearly, I want to make my little business successful, dammit.”

“Just putting this out there—this is why you think through ideas before you jump balls deep into things.”

“I don’t have balls, for one. And for two,I know, asshole. But it’s too late now.”

I huff, reminding myself why I abruptly quit my sales job and started a mobile plant care business on a random Wednesday six months ago.

I’m not sure who told me that a business degree would get me far in life, but they lied. I graduated from college with a piece of paper that seems pretty worthless at this point. It certainly didn’t open any doors. My only choice was to work for minimum wage as a glorified receptionist or take a sales job with my mother, and neither choice was attractive. So I went to work with Mom until I couldn’t possibly take it any longer.

“You’ll figure it out,” Tate says, picking up his license. “I know you will. And if you need help, I’m here.”

“I know, and I appreciate that. But I don’t want to run to my billionaire bestie to save my ass. I want to save it myself.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, returning my smile. A lock of hair falls across his forehead in a casually cool kind of way. On anyone else, it would simply look unkempt. But him? It exudes an easy confidence. Then there’s his blue-green eyes, boyish smirk, and admittedly great body. But it’s his air of self-assurance that causes women to lose their minds around him.