me and held out a cup for me to top off for him. I did.
“How did your pitch go this morning?” I asked. “I saw the O’Donnells in your office. I presume it went well? Jon was smiling like a kid riding a bicycle for the first time after they left.”
Ethan indulged me with a smile. “It went well. I expect they’ll be calling me any minute to tell me I’m their guy.”
“But you don’t have it in the bag?”
“Sure, I do.”
“Unsigned paperwork means it’s not in the bag, Ethan. Haven’t you been doing this longer than I have?”
“Gut instincts are just as important as paperwork, Kathryn. Give yourself a bit more time in the industry and maybe you’ll know what I’m talking about. If you can feel anything, that is.”
“Oh, I can feel lots of things,” I said, adding a few things under my breath, “like irritation and an urge to commit murder on a daily basis.”
“If there’s one sneaky asshole in this office that could get away with murder, it would be you,” Ethan said.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Ethan laughed and shook his head before his expression turned serious. “Jon mentioned to me that our contracts were similar after the O’Donnells left this morning.”
“Similar?” I lifted my stack of paperwork and pointed to the signatures. “The only one of us with a signed contract here is me. How are they similar?”
Ethan prickled. “He’s up to something.”
“Jon is always up to something.” I was still reveling in the glory of getting that jab in. Ethan looked sufficiently put out. “I wouldn’t overthink it, if that’s something you’re even capable of doing.”
He barked out a bitter laugh. “Very funny. But in all seriousness, I think he’s playing us.”
“Us or just you? Because I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ethan. Toying with you is absolutely delightful and I can’t blame Jon for wanting to have a bat at the plate every now and then.”
“He’s going to make us work together.”
I hesitated. Me? Working with Ethan? It would be a bloodbath.
“Jon wouldn’t do that to me,” I said.
“Or me,” Ethan added.
I dismissed his comment with a wave of my hand, and his eyes narrowed in irritation. I ignored him. “Nonsense. Why would he make us work together? Jon knows better than to pair us up, especially with Christmas around the corner. Why would he want to make us all miserable during his favorite time of the year?”
“For financial gain and clarity.”
“Clarity?”
“He still doesn’t know who to make partner.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is he still telling you that? He knows, Ethan. He just doesn’t want to ruin your Christmas and break the bad news to you before jolly old Saint Nick stuffs himself down your chimney to leave coal in your stockings.”
“Who made you this way?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” I sipped my water and winced at the sourness of the lemon wedge that pressed up against my lips. “Honestly, and all jokes aside, we have nothing to worry about. I’m going to spend December working on Mrs. Pratt’s project and you’ll spend it working with the O’Donnells. We’ll hardly have to see each other, and by the time it’s all said and done, Jon will know who he’s making partner. He can enjoy his holidays carefree. He won’t want to babysit us, especially not with his new wife waiting at home for him by the fireside with glee.”
Ethan sighed.
“Chin up, Collinder,” I said. “Doubt isn’t a good look for you.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets. “You might be right. It would be a Christmas miracle not to have to work with you.”
“Ha. Ha.” I stuck my tongue out at him before he turned and walked away with a smug smile on his lips.
I watched him go and a little voice whispered in the back of my head that our projects were in fact quite similar. My creative brain started spinning and I conjured plenty of ideas on the spot that suggested our products might do well if they were marketed together.
“No,” I said firmly and to nobody but myself.
I would not be forced into working with Ethan Collinder.
He’d ruin everything faster than he could say Merry Christmas.
Chapter 8
Ethan
I knocked three times on the red front door before shouldering it open and letting myself inside. The wreath bumped softly against the window. It was the same one my mother had hung up on the very same door for as long as I could remember.