CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Bea’s pitch to the team at Greet Cute went better than she’d expected. She’d been anxious to start with, but the nerves soon fell away and she was back in the groove. Like she’d never left. She knew the product inside and out, she’d studied the demographic data Kim had sent, she knew her knock-it-out-of-the-park proposal by heart.

It was like the good old days, except she finally felt like the people around the boardroom table, dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts, were interested in what she had to say. She didn’t have to prove herself to them, like she always felt she was doing at Jing-A-Ling—they just accepted that she knew her stuff and were ready and eager to take it on board.

And they all adored the creative. Cranky Bea and Princess were a huge hit, which was, surprisingly for her, the biggest buzz of all.

The Greet Cute team were dynamic and egalitarian. There was no head honcho who everyone deferred to, and it was no executives-only meeting. Everyone was at the table, and they all just jumped in and asked questions and sought clarification without fear of looking foolish or being rebuked. It felt collaborative and wonderful.

The kind of agency she never knew existed. An advertising utopia.

And then, after a day of hashing out and workshopping and looking at the campaign from every angle and tweaking and massaging, everything was approved and given the green light. Which meant there was a ton of other stuff to do now—people to hire and plans to put in place—and doing that all while she was in LA seemed the most logical thing to do.

Sure, she could get it all done over multiple emails and phone calls and Zoom meetings over multiple weeks. Or she could spend a few days here setting it up, then return to Credence with everything ready to go.

After a celebratory dinner with Kim, Nozo—apparently short for Nozomi—and Mal, Bea was back at the hotel the company was paying for by ten and picking up the phone to call Austin to tell him about her change in plans. She was happy. And possibly a little tipsy. Very definitely horny. She wondered how Austin felt about phone sex?

He picked up on the first ring. “Beatriss.”

“Well, hello there,” she said, the smile in her voice morphing into a kind of a purr at the way his voice husked up the end of her name. “You must have been sitting on the phone.” Bea pictured him on his bed in his cabin, buck naked, in front of the big floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the vastness of the ranch.

“I was. I’ve missed you.”

She smiled again. “I missed you, too.”

“How’d the pitch go?”

“Oh, Austin…it was so good. I kicked ass.” Bea laughed then and spent the next ten minutes filling Austin in on all the ins and outs of the day.

When she ran out of steam, Austin said, “Looks like I’m going to have to get you a whole pie as your welcome-back gift tomorrow.”

Bea pressed a hand to her chest—this guy was just too good to be true. But then she remembered she wasn’t going to be home tomorrow. “You’re going to have to hold that pie. I won’t be back in Credence till Thursday now.”

There was a pause on the line. “Oh. Okay.”

The pause and his subdued reply pinged her radar. There was disappointment in his voice and something else she couldn’t place. Her smile fizzled. “It’s just a few more days.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She frowned, hoisting herself into a sitting position as the buzz from the booze evaporated into thin air. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. I…”

Bea waited for him to elaborate. And waited. “You what?” she prompted.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. I’ll just…miss you, is all.”

And Bea would miss him. But it felt like there was more to it than that. “It’s going to be so much easier to manage the campaign if I stay on these few days and get things in place.”

“Of course.”

The fact that his of course lacked enthusiasm suddenly grated. “It’s my job, Austin.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s fine for you to stay.”

Bea blinked. What the what now? So much for phone sex. “I don’t need your permission.”

Had she been so swept up in this thing between them that she’d failed to realize that Austin was the kind of guy who thought women needed permission from their man to do stuff? Surely not?

There was a long sigh from his end. “Of course not. I didn’t mean… I just… Look, I’m sorry, okay? Of course it’s your job and you need to stay in LA to get it done. That’s great. I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back home.”

Home. Bea turned it over and over in her head. Credence, her little apartment above Déjà Brew, Austin…she hadn’t set out to make them her home, but they were nonetheless.

Wow—that had happened fast.

Mollified, she said, “Okay then.” Which was followed by an awkward kind of silence, and she hated that there was this weirdness between them now when all she wanted was to talk with this guy who’d become a scarily big part of her life. Just…listen to his voice. “How’s Princess?” she asked.

He started to talk then, his voice softening again, and Bea fell back against the mattress and got lost in the low rumble.

…

By Wednesday morning, it was evident that Bea was going to need to extend her trip by another day to get a bunch of interviews done on Thursday, and she rebooked her ticket yet again for midday Friday out of LAX. With everything running to plan, she should be driving into Credence around six o’clock. It would be a long day, but Austin would be at the end of it and she couldn’t wait.

It felt like forever since she’d seen him, and she’d missed him. After that awkward conversation on Monday night, things had gone back to normal—including a very sexy session on FaceTime—and when she’d called to tell him she was extending her trip by another day, he’d taken it in stride and simply asked her if she preferred to have peach cobbler or cherry pie smeared all over her body.

Her relief at his reply had been palpable. Keeping their physical attraction front and center, she could deal with—weirdness over a change of plans due to her job, she could not. All that did was shine a huge spotlight on the reasons she’d been reluctant to get involved with Austin in the first place…

…

Kim poked her head in the office at the end of Thursday. “You must be exhausted,” she said.

Bea nodded. “Yep.” But it was a good exhausted. The kind of weariness that came with accomplishment at having achieved all the things she’d set out to achieve. She’d spend a few hours tomorrow morning at the office, checking off some minor, last-minute things before she had to get to the airport, but otherwise she was done.

“You were a machine today,” Kim teased as she entered and sat on the chair on the other side of Bea’s desk.

Well, it wasn’t her desk—it had been loaned to her for the week—but wow, what a desk. They’d given her the empty corner office with its third-story view over tree-lined boulevards and the vibrant street art of downtown LA. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of corner office she’d once craved in the glass high-rise belonging to Jing-A-Ling, but it was spacious and airy, with huge windows and modern art and a pervasive feeling of potential.

Jing-A-Ling’s offices were claustrophobic by comparison, and the only things that pervaded the air there were tradition and patriarchy.

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” Bea quipped as she shut down all three screens of her state-of-the-art computer console.

“And that,” Kim said as she crossed her legs, “is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Bea quirked an eyebrow. “This would be a bad time to tell me you can’t afford to pay me,” she joked.

“On the contrary. I’m here to offer you more money.”

Bea laughed. “Really?”

“Yep. We want to expand and build our name for all our products, and for that we need major advertising. Rather than outsource it, we want to do it all in-house. We want to give it to you. We want you to take on advertising for the entire company.” Kim paused. Bea wasn’t sure if it was for dramatic effect, but she needn’t have bothered—her mind was already kinda blown. “Come back to LA, Bea. Join us on the board. Executive in charge of advertising. Let’s make this office”—Kim glanced around the high walls and the large windows—“yours. Permanently.”

To say Bea was speechless was an understatement. She’d just been offered an executive position and a corner office—something she hadn’t been able to achieve at Jing-A-Ling in fifteen years—within a couple of months of being involved with Greet Cute.

She was stunned.

“I…” Bea’s heart hammered so loudly through her ears, she could barely hear herself talk. “I don’t know what to say.”

Kim grinned. “Yes would be nice.”

A few months ago, this would have been everything Bea had ever wanted. Back before she knew better, before she knew there was a life outside advertising. Sure, she’d had a great time dabbling this past month, but running one ad campaign for one product was one thing—being solely responsible for multiple campaigns was another entirely.

Was she up to it? Could she do it? And where did that leave her art?

Wait…Bea blinked. Her what now? Where the hell had that come from? She was being offered something far more concrete and tangible, far more her, and she was worrying about something completely intangible. Something not her.

Cranky Bea had been an enjoyable distraction when she’d made her giant leap into the unknown. Fun and frivolous. Like a holiday fling. But vacation time was over.

Shaking off the anxiety those two words—her art—had caused, Bea forced herself to get back on track. “And the others? Nozo and Mal, they’re on board with this, too?”

Kim nodded enthusiastically. “Mal said if I didn’t persuade you to join us, he was going to go into a year of mourning.”

“Oh, Kim.” This was just too damn big. “I’m not sure—”

Kim raised her hands in a placatory manner, cutting Bea off. “I know this isn’t the kind of corner office you craved. I know we’re not Jing-A-Ling. But think about it, Bea. You’ll be getting in on the ground floor with us, we’re on the cusp, and we want you to come with us. We want Greet Cute to be up there challenging Hallmark’s supremacy, and we want you to help us build that. You’d be part of creating something, not just helping maintain the status quo.”

Kim’s enthusiasm and belief in her company were not only palpable but justified as she went into detail about what exactly they were offering. Bea didn’t think for a moment that Greet Cute wouldn’t be the powerhouse Kim was portraying. And she couldn’t deny that was exciting.

Except…there was Credence. And Austin.

She opened her mouth to decline, but, as if she could sense the answer, Kim jumped in first. “Look, don’t give me an answer yet, okay? Take the night, think about it. The money’s good, the team’s great, the challenge is exciting. And we want the best damn ad executive in LA to be part of it all.”

Bea gave a half laugh. Kim sure knew how to both turn a screw and flatter at the same time. But the thing was, she wasn’t in LA anymore. “I don’t need the night,” Bea said. “I’m sorry, Kim, but the answer is no.”

“Oh, Bea, really?”

She nodded. “Really. I’m sorry. And I’m very flattered. I can’t thank you enough for the offer, but I like my life right now.”

“Come on, Bea,” Kim cajoled. “I know you. You must miss the energy of a new ad campaign. I’ve been watching you this week and, pardon the pun, but you’ve been buzzing.”

Bea laughed. “Yes. I’ve enjoyed it very much.” It would be so easy to step back into her corporate shoes. “And I am tempted. But…I line dance now. And I’m learning how to ride a horse.”

And Austin…

But no. She couldn’t let him be a reason. She couldn’t let a man be a reason to not take a job. Or to take a job, either, for that matter. This had to be about her. She and Austin were not officially anything. He was ten years younger than her, for crying out loud. Sooner or later, some pretty young thing was going to come along and turn his head and she was going to be toast.

Old toast.

Her decision to decline this offer had to be based on how much she liked the new life she’d carved for herself. And she liked it very, very much.

“Well.” Kim laughed. “I guess line dancing and horses are hard to compete with.”

Bea knew Kim didn’t understand. She wouldn’t have understood a few months ago, either. But Credence was…home now.

It was where she wanted to be. Right?

…

Bea didn’t bother to tell Austin on the phone that night about the job offer. What was the point when she hadn’t taken it? She’d tell him tomorrow when she got home and she was wrapped around his body and he could see she’d chosen Credence.

Then they could laugh about the crazy turns of her life.

Still, as she walked through the deserted open space of Greet Cute early on Friday morning to get a head start on the things she needed to do before she caught her plane, there was an undeniable kernel of temptation. Maybe there always would be any time she was sucked into the orbit of LA, because LA was advertising for her and she’d loved her job.

But there was something about here, about Greet Cute’s office, that was extra tempting. The kind of place she’d never imagined existed when she’d been cloistered behind the high-rise steel-and-glass of her old-school ad agency. The kind of place that reeked of inclusion and collaboration and diversity. It was evident in the people from all walks of life who worked here. And in every potted plant, every piece of funky art and stick of modern furniture.

Yep, if she ever were to get back into this world again, it would be somewhere like this. Where everyone worked together and every contribution was valued. And she didn’t have to wear high heels and tight skirts.

But for now, she was finishing up a few things and heading home.

…

By nine, Bea was all done. She’d sent her last email and shut down the desktop and was heading out of her office—the office, not her office—to say goodbye to everyone when her cell rang. The name flashing on the screen was Charlie Hammersmith.

She frowned. What the hell? Why was her old boss calling? And why the hell hadn’t she deleted him from her contacts?

Bea’s finger hovered over the button to decline the call and she almost tapped it. Had she been pressed to afterward, she couldn’t have said why she did answer.

“Charlie?”

“Bea. A little birdie tells me you’re in LA.”

Typical of Charlie not to bother with preliminaries or niceties. “You have me LoJacked now?”

He chuckled heartily like he had a mouth full of marbles. “You know what LA’s like—word gets around.”

Unfortunately, Bea did. Word of her departure had spread like wildfire. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Bea blinked. She’d rather dine with a rattlesnake. “No thank you.”

“You’re not available? I can fit in with your schedule.”

Well, that was a first. But it didn’t change her mind. “I’m available. I just don’t want to.” Her voice was perfectly polite, but if Charlie thought she’d be gracious and forgiving, he was sorely mistaken. There was no need to play nice anymore.

“Okay,” he said, his voice irritatingly reasonable, “you’re still upset.”

Bea stiffened, the vertebrae in her spine snapping together like LEGO. She gripped the phone, her cheeks warm. “I’ve moved on.”

“That’s a shame. I wanted to offer you the executive position. The one you wanted. The one with the corner office.”

Bea breathed out a slow breath as all she’d ever once wanted was offered to her on a platter. A few months ago, she’d have grasped it with both hands. Now, standing in this beautiful, innovative work space, she wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

“The one you gave to Kevin instead of me?” Her voice shook more than she’d have liked, and she knew she’d kick herself for that later.

“Clearly that was an…error of judgment.”

Bea laughed out loud. “I’d say that’s an understatement.” She could almost hear him squirming, but there was no way she was going to let him off the hook.

“Irregardless—”

“Regardless,” she interrupted. Normally, Bea ground her teeth at Charlie’s incorrect usage of that word, but today, she was done wrecking three years and ten thousand dollars of her father’s hard-earned money in corrective braces. “Irregardless is not a word.”

She was pretty sure she could now hear Charlie grinding his teeth. “Quite,” he said, obviously determined to continue as he plunged on. “The board would like to offer you the job. You are clearly the best person for the role. You have an exemplary work ethic. You had a long list of clients who valued your expertise. And a unique insight into marketing to millennials. We both welcome and value the experience and the diversity you would bring to the agency.”

Right. So…interpretation. The scandal with Kevin was costing them financially. Clients were obviously walking. They needed a quick diversity hire with a good track record and a high profile who could steady the ship and help prove they weren’t the cast of Mad Men.

She gave a half laugh at the audacity of Charlie to even offer her the job. “Ahh, that would be a no.” A big, fat no.

“It’s a lot of money, a lot of prestige,” he pressed, as if he’d known she’d be resistant and already had his counterarguments lined up. “There’s partner’s dividends and bonuses, and you can call your own shots. Hire your own staff.” He paused and took a breath, injecting a faint note of reproach. “It’s what you wanted, Bea.”

Yeah, she had. It was like that damn high-rise had been misting the air with company happy juice and providing company Kool-Aid in the drinking fountain.

But she was out now and her perspective was twenty/twenty.

A part of her wanted to yell at him for being a sexist, old dinosaur, but she had to accept that she’d let this happen to herself. Sure, the power dynamic had not slid in her favor, but she was mad as hell at herself for putting up with the crap. For not speaking up or getting out earlier. Charlie may have ruled over the culture, but she had been silent in its presence, and that was on her.

“I don’t want it anymore. Not with you.”

Bea was proud of the steady finality in her voice. She didn’t. She really didn’t.

He didn’t say anything for long seconds, and then he laughed. “Oh, I see. You think someone else will employ you?”

Bea’s hackles rose. “I think any company would be falling over themselves to hire me, as well you know.”

Okay, she didn’t want another job in LA, but hell if she was going to let Charlie know that. She was confident enough in her cachet—despite her recent absence from the scene—to know that she could go to half a dozen ad agencies right now and be employed on the spot.

So screw him.

“Oh, Bea. Have you forgotten how much sway I have? And how incestuous advertising is? Come on…you haven’t been away that long.”

A prickle shot up Bea’s spine. Unfortunately, Charlie was right. He was a big deal in advertising circles. He could tank her career before breakfast if he wanted.

“A word here, a word there,” he continued, his voice almost musical as he spilled his ugly threats. “Calling in a favor here. A favor there. Letting a rumor or two slip about why you were let go from Jing-A-Ling in the first place. A gambling habit, maybe, or a fondness for pills.”

Bea shook her head at his bullying, her heart suddenly banging hard against her ribs. She wished she didn’t believe he was capable of the litany of horrors he was trying to intimidate her with, but she didn’t doubt it for a second.

“Bea,” he said, all low and fake reasonable again. “You’ll never work, let alone make it, in LA without me. And if you think my reach doesn’t extend to the East Coast, then think again.”

“Are you…threatening me, Charlie?” Bea kept her voice neutral, unwilling to betray how his treachery was affecting her as she eased her trembling body against the desk for support.

He laughed, and there was an undertone to it that made her shiver. “I always knew you couldn’t hack it at the big end of town. Too squeamish for the ad game. Too girlie. Good luck, Bea. You’re going to need it.”

The phone cut off in her ear, and Bea stared at it blankly. She couldn’t figure out what she felt more—shocked or enraged. How dare he? How freaking dare Charlie Hammersmith threaten her with career ruination?

The man was really showing his true colors today. How could she ever have looked up to this utterly deplorable piece of work? Jesus…he was so getting the Cranky Bea treatment next time she sat down to sketch.

“Bea?” Kim came to the door, looking at her watch. “Shouldn’t you have left by now?”

Bea looked up from her phone, barely making Kim out through the red mist clouding her vision. “No,” she said, a decision crystalizing, snap-freezing in her brain and coming right out her mouth. “Does your job offer still stand?”

Kim seemed confused for a beat before a slow smile tugged at her mouth. “Yes.”

“And this will really be my office?”

“Yes.”

A corner office was a corner office. It didn’t matter how high it was off the ground—it was all about the statement. “When can I start?”

“Whenever you want.” Kim clasped her hands together, as if she was having a hard time containing her excitement. “As soon as possible?”

“Is today okay?”

The smile morphed into a grin that practically split Kim’s face in two. “Today is perfect.”

“All right, then.” Bea also grinned, some of the rage and mist dissipating at Kim’s delighted reaction. “I’ll get back to work.”

Kim nodded sedately, even though she looked like she was about to levitate in excitement. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Then she practically skipped out of the room.

Bea walked around to the other side of her desk, her legs still shaking. Sitting slowly, as the enormity of her sudden snap decision sunk in, she took some deep breaths and reached out to push the start button on her computer, staring at it absently as it booted up.

She’d show Charlie dipshit Hammersmith and his ilk that she’d not only make it in LA but she’d fucking thrive. His influence might extend into all kinds of advertising circles and that could well have thrown some wrenches in some plans, had she wanted to keep working the old-school way—except she didn’t.

These days, there was more than one way to make it—dinosaurs like Charlie just hadn’t realized it yet. And she looked forward to being a thorn in his side.

But…there was no getting away from the fact that she’d just put a nail into the coffin of any kind of continuing future in Credence. Or with Austin. Who thought she was coming home in a handful of hours.

And she needed to tell him she wasn’t…