Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I glanced at Reagan, who was sitting in his usual seat. He made a point not to raise his eyes to meet mine. “Actually, Reagan’s from Honeybridge,” I said. “Between that and his dad’s position, he probably already knows the key contacts there.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I didn’t realize.” And she probably hadn’t given him a chance to volunteer the information either. “That works out well, though. Reagan can be on hand at the meet and greet to hand out press kits and make sure everyone’s comfortable. He’s arranging for the catering now, so he’ll be able to coordinate with the servers to ensure the reporters have what they need. Happy media, happy coverage,” she added with a wink before focusing on her laptop again.
I moved to the small refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, automatically grabbing one for Reagan, too. Layla seemed to still be working on her coffee from our pit stop, so I assumed she didn’t need anything. When I set the water down in front of Reagan, I used it as an excuse to slide into the booth next to him again.
“Thanks,” he murmured without taking his eyes off the screen.
I glanced at what he was working on and saw an online order form for the bakery in Honeybridge. “Layla, wouldn’t your admin be a better person to handle this?” I waved a hand at Reagan’s tablet. “Reagan’s a PR associate—”
“A junior associate,” Layla reminded me. “Arranging catering is definitely within his job description.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that we should change the job description—not just for Reagan, but for every other junior associate who should be spending their time learning skills related to their field—but Reagan pressed his boot against mine as though imploring me not to speak.
I knew he was right, so I kept my mouth shut for now. This was the man I’d trusted to charm textile executives across the Midwest, I reminded myself. He’d handled himself in his job without my interference; he’d handled his parents for years. Obviously, he could handle this, too.
I cleared my throat. “Layla, I’m not sure if Reagan’s discussed this with you yet, but he has some family obligations while we’re in Maine. Since he’s been working around the clock on this press tour, it seems only natural to allow him time for that. Meanwhile… my son, Brantleigh, will be joining our team. You can have him help out with whatever tasks you would have assigned Reagan this week. Please ask January to forward Brant our event schedule.”
Reagan and Layla’s twin expressions of surprise almost made me chuckle. Reagan was the first to speak. “My parents are aware that my job comes first. I’ll work my family commitments around PennCo’s events—”
And he’d run himself ragged rather than ask for time off. I held up a hand. “There’s no need. Brant seems excited to get involved, and he and I haven’t spent time together in a long while. I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
A muscle ticked in Reagan’s jaw, but he managed a polite—too polite—smile. “Sure.”
Once again, my hands ached to grab hold of him and force him to tell me what he was actually feeling. I clutched them into fists on my thighs instead.
Layla’s lips pursed for a moment while she considered this. “I mean, of course Reagan can take the time he needs for his family… obligations. And obviously, I’ll be very pleased to welcome young Brantleigh to the team. But I want to make sure this event is a success. I wonder if we need to bring in Nataly or someone else from PR if Reagan isn’t going to be able to fulfill his duties.”
Reagan remained conspicuously silent, and I hated it.
“Honeybridge is a small town,” I explained to Layla, trying to ignore the vat of stress sitting next to me. “Even busy events there are easy to manage. I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll be just fine.”
“You’re right.” She smiled. “The two of us can handle anything, can’t we? Hopefully we’ll even have time for you to show me around town. I remember you spent a fair amount of time there last summer.”
Once again, Reagan’s reluctance to add to the conversation got under my skin.
“It’s a beautiful town,” I agreed. “In fact, Reagan is from one of the original founding families. His father is the state senator for that part of Maine.”
Reagan shifted in his seat before finally closing his tablet and indicating his desire to stand up. I moved out of the booth to let him pass and bit my tongue against the need to ask if he was okay. Clearly, he wasn’t. Even more clearly, he wouldn’t say so in front of Layla.
Layla watched Reagan with undisguised interest as he grabbed a yogurt from the fridge. “Is that right, Reagan? A local politician might be good for a photo op. I bet the local press would eat that up. Do you think you can arrange for something with your father and Thatcher?”