“Good morning, sunshine!” Trent slaps me on the back, his annoyingly chipper voice right in my ear. “Nice to see you in the office; glad you dressed the part.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I take a bite of my donut and look down my body at my black jeans, boots, and flannel.
Trent just laughs and steps over to where several other board members have gathered, including my dad and my Uncle Colton.
I grab my coffee and take another bite of my donut, taking a seat at the table. I don’t socialize much at these things, not because I’m too good for them, but because I hate talking business. I stay up-to-date on all of the brewery-related decisions and finances, so I’m not just a useless vote on the board who collects a dividend check every month. I care about this company; it’s my dad’s legacy, after all. I just don’t like all the small talk and office bullshit.
“Good morning. Got a little glaze on your lip.”
A familiar breathy voice pulls me from my thoughts as a warmth spreads through my body. Instinctively. I put my hand up to my lips to wipe away the sugary crumbs from my donut as I whip my head to the right . . . and there she is.
Little miss touristsitting at my boardroom table.