13. Hunter

Lottie's voice carried through the small meeting room at the Boulder office as I clicked away at my computer, trying to divide my attention between her presentation and the fires in my inbox regarding Jared Keelings.

I'd received twenty-two emails this morning from clients questioning the stability of the Harris agricultural empire. If I added that number to the ones we'd gotten since my breakfast date with Lottie on Friday, we were approaching fifty. Each one required its own well thought-out response, its own finesse to calm them down. In addition to the original three clients that jumped ship, another seventeen were lost outright.

I worked through the emails with a heavy heart, and each time I got more than a paragraph written, Lottie's voice pulled me back to the meeting.

"…I'm well aware that thoroughbreds have been a staple within Harris breeding since it was established." My eyes snapped up, locking with hers for a brief, flitting second, setting me on edge. She flipped to the next slide in her presentation.

Don't test me, Lottie.

"This upcoming year, though, I'd like to push the envelope a little."

Dammit.

There were four quadrants on the screen, each dedicated to their own breed. Lottie looked at it, her pin-straight hair cascading down her back over the first real business attire I'd ever seen her in. The dark, gray pantsuit and stark, black button-up somehow conjured up even worse images than that black satin dress she'd worn in Oahu.

"We'll still breed thoroughbreds—of course—enough to exceed the minimum sales targets. But we'll also breed quarter horses at that same level."

"Are you saying that you will also be adding Appaloosas and Friesians?" Dad asked, his voice wary as he clicked the top of his pen and jotted something down in his obscured notebook. "Do you have a plan in place to source them?"

Lottie nodded. "Yes, Edward, I do." My eyes flared for a moment as I watched her. No one who had ever worked under my father had been brave enough to call him by his first name. Most called him Mr. Harris, or an easier official term, like sir. "I've been in talks with a few other breeders who have agreed to sell us some of their top breeding stock. It's all within budget."

Her breathing was steady, strong, and assertive. The top three buttons on her shirt were undone, enough to show me the inside edges of her collarbone and the necklace that rested against the center of it. I gave her a quick, curt nod. Good.

If Dad had a problem with any of it, he certainly didn't make it known.

Despite my worries about her stubbornness, she really was the perfect person for this job. She had a good head on her shoulders, a confidence about her that I hadn't seen before, and a cockiness that would get her wherever she needed to go. In all honesty, I was proud of her.

————

"What is this? Some kind of show you're putting on?"

Fred leaned way too far into my personal space from his swivel chair next to me. "I'm trying to put out fires," I grumbled, sending the email I was working on and pulling up the next.

"I mean with your girlfriend."

I spun my chair around to put more space between us. His dark hair was curled up around his ears, little strays flying out from every angle. My brother wasn't too concerned about his appearance after he married his wife, but in turn, that meant he wasn't too concerned about looking professional. Probably why Dad sends me out on first meetings. "What do you mean?"

His lips twitched up on one side as he glanced toward Lottie. She was stuffing her binders into a tote bag, a look of determination and satisfaction on her face. "Don't you think it's a little odd how you started dating her at the same time as hiring her? Especially after what Dad said."

I closed my laptop and stared him dead in the eye. "I know what you're implying. Don't."

Fred chuckled, leaning back in his chair to appear as nonchalant as he could. I knew damn well when he was faking though. "Just seems like an interesting little arrangement to make him consider that perhaps you've settled down. If you think you'll get to take over because of it, you are incredibly naive."

"It has nothing to do with that," I lied. And apparently I was good at it. Out of the two of us, I was always the one who got away with it. "But by all means, if you want to think that's what's happening why don't you tell Dad? See what he thinks."

He shook his head, his mop of untamed curls flying. "No. Not until I've got evidence."

I rolled my eyes and stood from my chair, slipping my laptop into its carrying case. "Good luck with that, Freddie."

Dad crept up behind Lottie as she threw her bag over her shoulder. He was only an inch shorter than I was but he practically towered over her. As he tapped the side of her arm to get her attention, my stomach knotted.

The very real possibility of Lottie mentioning the forty-nine-percent deal we'd agreed on suddenly caught up to me. Unfortunately, with all the chaos going on, I'd not come up with a solution for that situation yet. I really wasn't looking forward to telling whomever I decided on that they would be losing something. And I definitely didn't want to come across as a disappointment to my father amid the company crisis and changeover.

Ignoring my brother's attempts to keep me with him, I made my way over to my father and Lottie before they could get too deep in conversation.

"…are things going between you two? You looked so sad in that photo, I?—"

"I asked them not to publish that one," I interjected, placing my hand on the small of her back. Lottie looked up at me in surprise, her brows furrowed in slight confusion but otherwise unquestioning. "I'm glad you two have finally got to meet, though."

Lottie pushed her hand out in front of her, offering it to my father. "I've heard so much about you, Edward. My father, Brody Hammersmith, works with Hunter. I think you've crossed paths a few times."

Dad's eyes widened as he took her hand, giving it a good shake. "You're Brody's daughter? No wonder my son was so keen to hire you. I think you'll be a good fit here, Charlotte."

Her answering grin spread so wide I thought her face might split in half. "Thank you."

"And you'll be a good challenge for my son," Dad laughed. "He needs someone with a bit of fire in them."

"That's absolutely Charlotte," I laughed, trying not to let the effect of Dad's dig show on my face. He'd never approved of my lifestyle, never thought it was good for my image or for the company as a whole. "She's not afraid to stand her ground or speak her mind."

"I like that." Dad nodded, cracking the first real smile I'd seen from him in ages. This could work. "Will you two be going to the breeding conference this week?"

"Conference?"

"We are." I wrapped my hand around Lottie's waist, pulling her just a little closer as a silent request to not question it further. "We leave on Thursday."

Dad's lips flattened into a tight line. It was a quiet mark of approval, a classic he'd used since we were kids when he meant business but didn't want to outright state that he was happy with what we were doing. "Good," he said, one hand patting me too hard on the shoulder before he was called away.

Charlotte looked up at me. "You didn't mention anything about a conference."

"I wasn't planning on going until he asked," I whispered. "It's in Texas. I'll get us in."

"Texas?" Charlotte hissed, her brows furrowing in vexation. Quickly, I ushered her from the room, common sense finally kicking in and screaming at me to remove her from the situation before she could cause a scene. The moment the conference room door shut behind us, her voice rose. "You think I can just drop everything and go to Texas with you?"

"It's just for the weekend. Calm down."

"You can't just tell me that last minute. I have my own life." She leaned back against the wall of the hallway, that sliver of chest I could see rising and falling with each irritated breath. "What if I had plans?"

"You don't have plans," I said simply.

"You don't know that."

"I do know that, Lottie. Because you would have told me about them so that I didn't schedule a date."

She glared at me. I was right, and she hated it, but fuck, that look of contempt and exasperation plastered on her face coupled with the office attire made her look as tempting as ever, if not more so.

"Am I wrong?" I asked. Leaning in just a little closer, I brought my lips to her ear, letting them drag across her soft skin. "Do you have plans, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, jutting out her chin as a form of protest.

"I thought not."

Seeing her in her element during the presentation had been distracting enough. I'd hardly made a dent in the emails I needed to send because I could barely keep my eyes off of her. That mouth drove me insane with every word she spoke. I didn't care what words were coming out of it. I just wanted it on me, anywhere. I wanted to feel the soft skin that was teasing me between the undone buttons of her shirt. I wanted to smell the fresh-cut strawberries, the cinnamon, the whipped cream. I wanted to taste it.

"Come with me," I rasped, dragging my fingers down along her arm until our fingers interlaced. "I need to see you in my office."

"What?" she breathed. But I was already moving, pulling her toward the elevator at the end of the hallway. The door was open, a handful of men and women in ill-fitting suits and heels slipping out and heading in the opposite direction. I hated this building, hated the lack of character compared to the ranch, but at least I knew that here, my office had privacy. It wasn't an old-style building, it was state-of-the-art, with working locks.

Locks I'd absolutely be putting to use.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, squeezing my hand to grab my attention as I pressed the button for the top floor. I scanned my ID card and it blinked a green light in response.

"Getting some privacy."

I grabbed her by the waist, pulled her in, and gave one last look at the hallway as the doors began to close. My father and Fred stepped out of the conference room, deep in conversation, but I knew they saw me as I pressed my lips to Lottie's just as the sliding metal met.