Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,33
me in a new light. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you, Dr. Leffersbee.”
I didn’t let him see my relief that this gamble had apparently paid off, even though I couldn’t help but think, neither did I.
“The best I can do is a strongly worded letter of support accompanying your application,” he said. “And I’ll throw all my weight behind it in discussions. But you know, obtaining that R01 was the benchmark. I don’t think it should be in your case, if I’m honest. You’ve more than demonstrated your mettle as a researcher and you’ve done this campus a lot of good as a result. But I’m not the only person on the committee, so you understand my letter is only one voice among several.”
I nodded coolly. “I understand. But it’s a great start.” Inside, mentally, I executed a victory dance, complete with cartwheels. I can’t believe that worked!
His eyes narrowed. “So you’ll conduct the training this Friday?”
“Yes.” Fine. I’d suffer through more time with Nick. Whatever. It was worth it if my staff all had jobs in three months.
“One more condition,” he said.
My internal victory dance halted abruptly. “What?”
“You help Mr. Rossi and his team through the entire process. He needs regional feedback from beta users in our community. We need to anticipate and address any special challenges our community members may experience. He’ll need help navigating the university and marketing. And he’s committed to overseeing that process until we’re satisfied it’s done right. You make yourself available to him.”
“However, after the training—”
“Even after the training. You make yourself available if any member of his team needs help, Mr. Rossi included. Help him find his way. This is a relationship I—we—need to cultivate.”
“You’re asking a lot of me,” I murmured, for once not hiding my discomfort.
“I know. But you’re asking a lot of me, Zora.” His words and his expression were candid. “Will you do it?”
I lowered my elbows to the table, rested my head on my hands. “Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice, Dr. Leffersbee. In this case, the choice is about which is more important to you. Guaranteeing the continued employment of your research staff? Or avoiding a potentially uncomfortable—albeit temporary—interaction?” I listened as he stood, walked to the door, adding, “I think we both know which you’ll choose.”
Chapter Eight
Zora
“Look at this spread!” I mimed swooning as I took in the feast assembled on the blanketed bed of Jackson’s truck, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.
Cooper’s Field was surprisingly empty for a Friday evening and day was slowly yielding to night with a stunning display of pinks and purples along the horizon. It was blessedly quiet, with only a few tentative cricket chirps.
Sigh. I needed this.
Jackson’s lips curled with his trademark smirk. “You know I love it when you use the word ‘spread’ in any context.”
I couldn’t help my huff of laughter. “You’re so romantic. You always know just what to say.”
He waggled his brows. “I know.” He reached for my arm from the height of the truck, easily hauling me up and over.
“Are these flowers for me?” I smiled at the cellophane wrapped red roses lying next to the battery powered lantern. “A You really are romantic.”
I settled into the corner while he made his way to the paper bags nestled against the cab. “It’s my job to make sure you never forget that, cupcake. I can’t remember the last time I bought you flowers.”
“Hmm.” I pushed aside the plastic, burying my nose in the soft, fragrant blooms. “These are amazing. I will display them proudly. And publicly. Speaking of which . . .” I rummaged through my crossbody knapsack and retrieved a grease-spotted paper bag. It was still warm. “I brought your sugar. Daddy.”
Jackson turned with an unrepentant grin, and then he laughed. “Liked that, did you?” Jackson always laughed at his own jokes and I found this hilarious about him. He didn’t care if anyone else thought he was funny, he thought he was funny, and that was good enough.
“No. You know I don’t.” I leveled him with a scowl. “Didn’t we talk about how creepy that is? Haven’t I threatened to disembowel you for talking like that?”
Jackson inched his way over to me on his knees, setting a Styrofoam container in front of me. “Ah, that’s just ‘cause you haven’t been properly inspired. Under the right circumstances, you’d be shocked at what you might be willing to call me.”