The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

20. Brenna

20

brENNA

T he sound of giggles wakes me on Friday morning. I pry my eyes open to see Kenzie in the process of trying to balance a stuffed Siamese kitten with oversized blue eyes on my chest.

“Good morning, kitty,” I yawn. “And good morning, Kenzie.”

“Ah, man! Mom sent me to get you up and I was planning to leave the kitten and then go out and knock on your door so you’d get a surprise when you woke up.”

“What part of this isn’t surprising?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at her. “I think you accomplished your mission.”

She giggles again, the very sound that gave her away to begin with. “You do look surprised.”

A flash of movement at the door draws my eye and I see Bella poking her head in. “Mom wants you, Kenzie. And Nan says we’re leaving in fifteen minutes, Aunt Bee.”

“Tell Nan I’m coming. Don’t let them leave without me.”

Bella leaves with a salute of acknowledgment.

“You’d better scoot, missy,” I tell Kenzie as I sit up and swing my feet out onto the floor. “Go find your mom and let me get dressed.”

“Okay. You can keep my kitten for now so you won’t be lonely.” Kenzie snuggles the animal onto my pillow where my head used to be and skips out.

I stumble to my suitcase and rummage around, quickly extracting a pair of leggings and an oversized orange drop-shoulder sweater. Scooping up clean underthings and a pair of black ankle boots, I dash across to the bathroom. I don’t have time for a shower, but I at least have to brush my teeth and tame my hair. Although maybe if I go Black Friday shopping looking like a gremlin, I can get the good deals by scaring people away.

I check my watch and decide I have time to swipe on some mascara and touch up my eyebrows, which makes me look instantly more alert. By the time I make my way downstairs, I’m fully awake and feel much better than I thought I would on only three hours of sleep.

“Oh, good,” Mom says when I reach the bottom of the stairs. “We’re all ready to go. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She brushes past me with a pat on my shoulder, pulling on her jacket as she goes. My stomach grumbles loudly, but I don’t want to keep everyone waiting, so I decide to grab a granola bar and just make do. The whirring of the blender greets me as I enter the kitchen and I immediately spot Zach standing in front of it. He glances up and smiles at me before cutting it off.

“Good morning. Sleep okay?”

“Pretty good, actually. I’m surprised to see you up, though. I figured you’d sleep in after a late night as the cocoa fairy.”

He laughs. “First time someone has ever called me a fairy. I couldn’t sleep with all the commotion in the hallway. I think Kenzie thought she was tip-toeing, but it sounded like a baby elephant.”

I grin at his assessment.

“Brenna?” Heather’s voice rings out from the foyer. “Are you coming?”

“Be right there,” I call back. I reach for the basket of granola bars on the island and grab the closest one without looking at it. “I’d better go. Don’t want them to leave without me.”

“Wait.” Zach takes a step toward me. “Is that all you’re eating for breakfast?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” I glance down at the bar. “I’m not that hungry.”

As if it knows it’s being discussed, my stomach chooses that moment to make a liar of me.

“Hang on a second.” Zach opens a cabinet to his right and rummages around before withdrawing a bright orange travel mug with the state of Tennessee outlined in white on the side. With quick, sure motions, he detaches the pitcher from the blender base and pours what looks to be a fruit smoothie into the cup. The sweet, tangy scent of pineapple drifts over me as he approaches, popping the lid on and holding the cup out to me. “Here. This will help.”

“You don’t?—”

“Have to do this, I know.” He rolls his eyes. “For the love of Pete, will you please accept my help without arguing just this once? I can make another smoothie once you leave.”

A smile tugs at my mouth and I take the cup, my eyes lingering on his. “Thank you. Really.”

“My pleasure. Now you’d better go before you get in trouble.” He winks, reminding me of his display last night, and I flush.

“See you later, Zach.”

“Have fun.”

I hurry outside and slide into the backseat next to my nieces. I can barely see them in the pre-dawn darkness.

“Sorry to keep y’all waiting. I had to grab some breakfast. You how I get when I’m hungry.”

“We do,” Mom agrees. “I should have made you a bagel when I made one for the rest of us.”

“I meant to get up earlier but I was up late with a last-minute work project. I didn’t get to go to bed until about three o’clock this morning.” And that was only because of Zach, though I don’t tell them that. There’s no way I can let any of them—especially my mom—find out he was in my room in the middle of the night. She would not be happy, and even though nothing happened, I don’t want to give the girls the wrong impression. Aunts are supposed to be good influences. Boys in your room is not something I want to promote.

Mom hmms sympathetically before she turns on the radio to a local station that starts playing Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. I sip my smoothie gratefully, remembering how this whole crazy plan was hatched over a similar smoothie at the gym. It’s hard to believe that was just a week ago.

It feels like I’ve gotten to know Zach way more than you’d expect for the amount of time we’ve spent together. And the more I get to know him, the more I like him. I’ll admit, his confession last night caught me off guard. I mean, no second dates ever? Seems like a serious commitment issue. Except that interpretation doesn’t mesh with everything else I know to be true about Zach. He’s so kind and generous, and it seems like he really does want to find the right person.

It's admirable that he’s being so intentional, isn’t it?

We reach the mall and connect up with Sara, then split up again to visit different stores, with the plan of meeting up at Starbucks in two hours for a pick-me-up. Sara and I strike out together since we have similar lists of stores we’d like to visit, and I’m glad for the companion I ended up with. Sara is a serene presence, content to shop quietly, which fits my mood today.

As we browse through sale racks of workout clothes and try on office outfits, I have plenty of time to reflect on the last two days. I feel disquieted by several things at once, and I know it’s going to take longer than the next hour to process it all. The two chief things occupying my brain space right now are Zach and my job.

I’m equally confused about both.

I stare at myself in the mirror of the dressing room, evaluating the plain black pants and white blouse I chose to try on. I hate them, even though they’re very similar to the clothes I wear all the time, and that, I realize, is a major symptom of a bigger problem. Why do I wear clothes I hate? Because wearing fashionable, colorful clothes that match my style makes me stand out from the ultra-conservative wardrobe of the men in the office. I don’t want to give Springfield any reason to single me out so I keep a low profile and dress with a bland professionalism that I don’t love but have always tolerated as another thing I have to do to achieve my goals.

My dissatisfaction with my position at the firm has gently simmered for quite some time, but lately, I feel like it’s come to a boil. A full rolling boil after this most recent affront. That, combined with the stories I keep hearing this week about switching careers, is making me wonder if it would be worth it to quietly apply to other corporate law offices in Nashville. I wouldn’t put it past Springfield to sabotage my efforts if he knew about them—I saw him do it once before to another associate he had a beef with. His family has lived in Nashville for generations and they have influence with a lot of people. But if he didn’t know about it, if I had a chance to make a really good first impression before they asked him for a reference, maybe I might stand a chance. Of course, the risk is that I don’t get hired elsewhere and life just gets worse in my current position. I don’t doubt that Springfield is capable of even greater pettiness if he perceived my attempt to leave as an insult.

I sink onto the narrow bench in the bright white of the dressing room and bury my face in my hands, elbows propped on my knees. The whole thing makes me so angry. This was my dream job, the one I worked so hard for. I hate that I even have to think about giving it up for something else, but here I am.

With a sniff, I square my shoulders. There’s no sense dwelling on it right now. Today I just need to focus on enjoying this time with my family, then getting those documents completed and delivered. After that, I’ll start researching my options and maybe start applying in January. A new job for a new year. A slow transition to another corporate law firm might ultimately be better for me than riding it out at Springfield & Springfield. I feel a little spark of excitement at the thought despite the circumstances.

And as for Zach, I’m not sure what to think. On the one hand, I feel a strong attraction to him and my spidey senses tell me that he might feel the same way. On the other hand, it seems prudent to proceed slowly. He seems pretty adamant about this no-dating thing, and I want to respect that. Also, it’s a lot of pressure to imagine being someone’s first girlfriend after so many years of waiting.

The good news is, there’s no rush. We’ll just take it easy and see how things go.