“Oh no,” Kyla groans. “They’re running Buttercup again.”

The deep rumble has started and the temperature in the office is already rising to an uncomfortable degree. Kyla hoists herself out of her chair and the cheap leather makes a sucking sound as it peels away from her sweaty skin.

“Oh God.” I fan my hands in front of my face as I shrug off hoodie. I don’t even know why I bothered putting it on in the first place. “It feels like she’s working overtime.”

“We seriously need to find a new office.”

“We seriously can’t afford a new office, remember?”

“Well, maybe we should take some of our GoldLake money and look for one. It doesn’t even have to be in Manhattan. God, it doesn’t even have to be in New York state. Alaska sounds nice right about now.”

Kyla flops down at the poker-slash-conference table. There’s already a bead of sweat on her forehead. My t-shirt is sticking to my skin. The floor vibrates under my feet as Buttercup does her thing.

I sink into the chair across from Kyla. “Alaska it is. But in the meantime, we’ve got to get moving on our GoldLake presentation. What do we have left to do?”

Kyla flips open the laptop and navigates to the file she’s been working on.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research into the models and I think we have some compelling stats about why our suggested approach is the right one. There’s some good data on how audiences connect with real people more than spokesmodels.”

I’m nodding. “That’s great. I’ve been putting together a possible schedule and budget for the campaign. I’m wondering if I should do two options — just to give them a couple different choices. Like, maybe one that has a consistent spend and one that pushes harder at certain milestones.”

Kyla nods thoughtfully. “That might be a good idea. We don’t want to give them too many choices, but Wes seems like the type who might like to keep his options open. What do you think? You know him better than I do.”

“I don’t know him that well,” I say hastily. I scribble some notes down on my pad without looking at her, then scan through my to-do list. “I think we’re almost there. You’re going to polish up the graphics this week?”

She nods. “Yup. Don’t worry. It’s going to look super slick when I get done with it.”

“Good,” I grin. “Because I don’t think Wes would be impressed with the chicken scratch I put together. It needs your magic touch.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think he’d like whatever you put together.” Her voice has a teasing note to it, but when I sneak a glance up, she’s focused on the laptop and won’t look at me. I flip my notebook closed and push my chair back, anxious to end this conversation before it goes somewhere I don’t want.

“I think we have all we need to keep working for the afternoon, right?”

Kyla is still smiling. “Yup. Let’s get back to it.”

We both return to our desks and I hop over to my email to see if I’ve missed anything important.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Kyla swings around in her chair.

“Nothing. Just forgot I agreed to go to this Bulldog Rescue fundraiser tonight.”

“Is that the one in Central Park?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess it might be fun.”

“Come on — puppies, picnic. What’s not to like?”

“I like puppies.” The voice comes from behind us, and I jolt, spinning around so fast I almost fall off my chair.

“Wes.” The word alone gives my stomach an infusion of butterflies, but add in the actual sexy man standing right in front of me, and the butterflies put down their flag and lay full claim to my insides.

“Hey.” He adjusts his tie, though, as usual, it’s already perfectly straight. “Hi Kyla.”

“Hi.”

The silence in the room quickly becomes uncomfortable. I can’t even look at Kyla. When I can’t stand the tension anymore, I force myself to face Wes.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” I say. Duh. Of course I wasn’t. Otherwise I would have worn something cuter than my old Wesleyan t-shirt with the hole in the back of the neck. When am I going to learn to stop dressing like a homeless person at the office?

“I know,” he says with a grin. A grin that just happens to set the butterflies off in a flurry. “But I had some news. Want to grab a coffee?”

“Sure.” I say it so fast that Kyla snorts. I shoot her a glare but grab my hoodie and follow Wes down the stairs. He takes a deep breath of the fresh air outside and I notice him visibly relax now that we’re out on the street together. I hate to say it, but I do too.

We walk in silence to the closest coffeeshop, which happens to be a cute little place called Rocky Road Espresso that makes the most delicious iced coffee in the entire city.

We go in and order and I throw my credit card down. Wes starts to protest, but I silence him with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’m expensing it to you.”

He grins back. “Fair enough.”

We take our drinks and grab a seat near the window. Another wave of silence washes over us but it’s comfortable. It reminds me of all the time we spent together in high school, getting coffees to go from Al’s Dine & Shine and then driving around aimlessly along the highway out of Highfield. Life felt so big back then, like there were so many possibilities and we could drive forever and never run out of road.

“HR met with your friend Maria yesterday,” he says, breaking the silence and tugging me out of my memory.

I perk up instantly at her name. “Yeah? And?”

He pauses for a minute and my heart dips. Then his face breaks into a grin. “They loved her. They’ve offered her a spot in the program. She’s going to start next week, Monday, as soon as the paperwork is finalized.”

I let out a squeal so loud that half the coffeeshop turns around to stare at me. I’m glad there’s a table between Wes and I because otherwise I’d probably be launching myself into his arms right now, and who knows where that would lead?

“That’s great, Wes. Thank you so much.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. You’re the one that brought us an excellent candidate.”

I sip my iced coffee while my heart attempts to slow itself to a normal rate. I don’t know why I’m so happy about this — I mean, I barely know Maria — but it feels good to be able to help someone. That’s what I always wanted to do with Marigold, and even though getting Maria a job isn’t exactly part of our service offerings, it still feels satisfying to know I had a hand in helping someone get ahead.

“Well, I’m really happy,” I say. “I’m glad it worked out for both of you.”

“I love that about you.”

My skin buzzes. “What?”

“I love that you care so much about other people.”

“Oh, well…” I sip my coffee again.

“Don’t play it down, Roar. You’re a good person, with a good heart. Sometimes I wish I was more like you.”

My earlier happiness multiplies ten-fold. My whole body buzzes with a warm glow.

“What are you talking about? You’re a good person, Wes. This whole hiring initiative was your idea.”

I expect him to smile, but something in his face changes. Hardens. He stares down at the table, pushing his plastic cup around and leaving a wet trail of condensation in its wake.

His jaw ticks once, twice, before he looks back up. He holds my gaze, his blue eyes burning into mine. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Dinner?” I pretend to wrinkle my nose, even though my heart is pounding out a marching band beat. “That sounds like a date. Isn’t that against the rules of our contract?”

He chuckles. “Given that you came to the Kinsmen Club with me, and I’m going to a wedding with you, I’d say we’re a little beyond that point.”

I can’t help my grin. “Well, I don’t know about that. But anyway, I have to go to a fundraiser tonight. This picnic thing in Central Park.”

“Do you want some company?”

“Company?”

“Yeah, you know — when someone joins you in an activity and you can enjoy it together and perhaps talk to each other a bit while you’re doing it.”

“I know what company means.” I roll my eyes. “But, I mean, are you sure you want to come?” What I really want to say is are you sure that’s a good idea?

“I’m sure. What’s the fundraiser for?”

“Bulldog Rescue NYC. They’re one of our other clients.”

“I love bulldogs. Sounds fun.”

“Then I guess it’s …”

“A date?”

I frown. “I was going to say friendly social outing.”

He chuckles. “I think date sounds better.”

I take a deep breath and a long swallow of coffee. Even though it’s iced, it does nothing to cool my burning skin.

“Okay.” I say the words slowly, carefully, feeling them out on my tongue. “I guess it’s a date.”