“Of course it was.”

For a second, I reconsidered what I’d spent days mulling over. His blazing ego didn’t need any more fanning. But my parents deserved the best advertising campaign possible. And that wasn’t mine, unfortunately.

“As much as it pains me to say it, your ideas were better. We’d like to go forward on the radio copy and magazine sketches you proposed. I have a few tweaks, and I’d obviously like to stay on the campaign as the point person, but we can manage this campaign together. And I’ll let Jonas know it’s my family and give you credit for bringing in the better pitch.”

Bennett stared at me for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he leaned back into his chair, steepled his fingers, and squinted at me like I was a suspect. “Why would you do that? What’s the catch?”

“Do what? Tell Jonas?”

He shook his head. “All of it. We’re in the middle of fighting for our jobs, and you’re going to hand me a W that’s an easy point for you.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Your advertising is better for the client.”

“Because it’s your family?”

I wasn’t quite sure about the answer to that. The fact that it was my parents’ winery was a no-brainer. But what would I do if this were a regular client we had both pitched? I honestly didn’t know if I’d be handing him anything. I’d like to think my morals would have me putting the client first, no matter what. Yet this was my job on the line…

“Well, yes. The fact that it’s my parents made it an easy decision to put the client first.”

Bennett scratched his chin. “Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I opened my to-do-list notebook again. “Now, next order of business. Jonas sent us an email this morning on the Venus Vodka campaign. He wants ideas by this Friday, and he doesn’t want us to tell him who came up with which pitch. I think he wants to make sure we have direction early because he doesn’t trust we’ll be able to work together well enough.”

“Would you do that for any client?”

“Be ready early when the boss asks? Of course.”

He shook his head. “No. Use my campaign if you thought it was better than yours.”

Apparently I was the only one who’d changed subjects. I closed my book and leaned back in my seat. “I’m honestly not sure. I like to think I would put any client first, that I’d act ethically in their best interest, but I love my job, and I’ve invested seven years working my way up with Wren. So, I’m ashamed to say, I can’t really answer that with certainty.”

Bennett’s face had been stoic, but a slow grin spread across it now. “We might get along after all.”

“What would you do in that situation? Do what’s best for the client or for yourself?”

“Easy. I’d bury your ass, and the client would get second best. Although, on the off chance my work was actually second best, it would be by a hair, so the client wouldn’t be suffering much.”

I laughed. Such a damn cocky bastard, but at least he was honest. “Good to know what I’m up against.”

We spent the next half hour going through open issues and then decided we would get started on the Venus campaign later in the day because we both had afternoons jam-packed with meetings.

“I have an appointment with a client at two. I can probably be back at the office by about five,” I said.

“I’ll order us in some dinner. What are you? A vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, beegan?

I stood. “Why do I have to be any of those?”

Bennett shrugged. “You just seem like the type.”

Too bad eye rolls weren’t a form of exercise. God knows, I’d be in tip-top shape after being around this man. “I eat anything. I’m not picky.”

I’d made it to the door when Bennett stopped me. “Hey, Texas?”

“What?” I needed to stop answering to that name.

“Have you ever let anyone copy your homework?”

My nose wrinkled. “Homework?”

“Yeah. At school. Back in the day. Could have been in grammar school, high school, or even college.”

Madison might not have done a single math assignment on her own for most of algebra. “Of course I did. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

***

My appointment went longer than I’d anticipated, and the office was almost emptied out by the time I got back. Marina, Bennett’s assistant—or rather our assistant—was just packing up her desk.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Did you let Bennett know I got delayed?”

She nodded as she pulled her purse from the drawer. “Are you ordering dinner? Because my Lean Cuisines are clearly marked with my name in the freezer in the employee kitchen.”

“Umm. Yeah. Bennett said he was going to order dinner for us.”

She frowned. “I also have two cans of ginger ale, four Sargento cheddar cheese sticks, and a half-used squeezable Smucker’s grape jelly in there.”

“Okay. Well, I wasn’t planning on helping myself to someone’s food in the refrigerator. But that’s good to know.”

“There’re menus in the top, right-hand drawer.”

“Okay. Thank you. Is Bennett in his office?”

“He went for a run. Normally he runs in the morning, but he went out about forty-five minutes ago since I told him you were going to be late.” Marina glanced around the room, then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Between us girls, you might want to watch your supplies around him.”

“Supplies?”

“Paper clips, notepads, staplers—some people around here have sticky fingers, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll…remember that. Thanks for the heads up, Marina.”

Twenty minutes later, Bennett popped his head into my office. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. He held a pizza box in one hand. “You ready?”

“Did you pay for that pizza or swipe it from Marina?”

He dropped his head. “She got to you already.”

I grinned. “She did. But I’m curious to hear the backstory from you.”

“Well, unless you like cold pizza, that’ll have to wait. Because explaining how nuts that woman is might take a while.”

I laughed. “Okay. Where do you want to work?” I nodded to the box sitting on the guest chair on the other side of my desk. “I packed some stuff to prepare just in case you wanted to go elsewhere.”

He walked toward my desk. “Of course you did. Wanna know what I did to prepare?”

“What?”

“I picked up two shot glasses at the little touristy shop down the block, just in case we feel the need to test drive the product.” Bennett plopped the pizza box on top of my box and lifted from the bottom. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s spread out in the bullpen. I think everyone else is gone for the day.”

***

The Foster Burnett marketing bullpen was very different than the one we’d had at Wren. Aside from it being twice the size—which made sense since Foster Burnett had twice the employees of Wren—it was set up like a dream college dorm lounge. Both bullpens had two couches and a coffee table, but that’s where the similarities ended. Wren had framed inspirational quotes, easels holding white boards, a large drafting table for sketching ideas, and a small fridge with soft drinks. Foster Burnett had one long wall painted black that doubled as an enormous chalkboard, a foosball table, a full-sized Ms. Pac-Man arcade game, colorful beanbag chairs, dozens of origami animals hanging from the ceiling, and two well-stocked 1950’s vending machines for soda and snacks in which everything cost only twenty-five cents.

“This room is nothing like the one we had at the old office.”

Bennett leaned forward and tore a second slice of pizza from the pie, sliding it onto his paper plate. He held the box open. “You ready for another one?”

“No, thanks. Not yet.”

He nodded and folded his pizza in half. “What was Wren’s bullpen like?”

“Less dorm room décor and more corporate team building.”

“Framed picture of a pack of wolves with some bullshit teamwork slogan?”

We didn’t have that particular one, but I knew the print he was referring to.

“Exactly.”

“I set up this room when we moved up to this floor. Tried to get them to put a few showers in, but HR wouldn’t go for it.”

“Showers?”

“I do my best thinking in the shower.”

“Huh. I feel like my best epiphanies come in the shower, too. I’ve always wondered why that is.”

“It takes away all outside stimuli and allows our mind to switch into daydreaming mode by relaxing the prefrontal cortex of the brain. It’s known as DMN, default mode network. When the brain is in DMN, we use different regions of it—literally opening up our minds.”

He shoved a quarter of his slice into his mouth, seeming not to notice the surprise on my face.

“Wow. I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew why we sometimes need to get out of the office or play a video game to free up our headspace. But I’d never heard the scientific explanation behind it.”

I flipped open the pizza box and took out another slice. Lifting it into my mouth, I looked up and found Bennett watching me intently.