Samantha Canton has had a rough year, to put it mildly. So she is overjoyed to find out she gets to go on her dream work trip to Europe. But she’s not going alone. She’ll be crossing the pond with the company’s CFO, Emerson Clark.

Icy Emerson, as the industry calls him, is logical, serious and quiet. He likes solitude, the color gray, rain and hot tea – he is British, after all. 

And he cannot stand Samantha in all her southern, chatty, upbeat, neon-dress-wearing glory. 

No problem, she’s never met someone she couldn’t befriend. 

Until Now.

Commence nervous verbal diarrhea. 

And commence the ultimate Grumpy Sunshine, Billionaire, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn Romance with rich characters and a payoff that will leave you absolutely giddy.

 

**This is a swoony, steamy, full-length standalone adult contemporary romance. Prepare for Manhattan, London, Paris, surprise twists, laugh-out-loud banter, a happily ever after, and a sisters group text thread you’ll wish you could join. This is the second book in the Heartlanders Series but can be read on its own.**

Things I Overshared Excerpt

Chapter 1

Uh oh.

Let me think, let me think, let me think.

Why would Skye be calling me?

She never, never, never calls.

My introverted older sister could be bleeding out in a dirty ditch surrounded by ax murderers in clown masks, and she’d still text instead of call, and probably only “911” and her location.

Still, fun to get an unexpected call….unless it’s Dad? Or one of Susan’s kids? Dear Lord, who’s died?!

“Skye? What’s wrong?” I gasp at my desk, almost spilling my coffee as I answer.

“Hey, Sam, are you sitting down?”

“Crap, yes! No, I was. Now I’m not. Is it dad? Grandpa? Oh, it’s grandpa isn’t it!”

I hear my sister through the speaker, cackling like I imagine a gleeful female Voldemort would laugh. I sigh and feel my cardiac rhythm begin to slow from arrest levels, but just barely. “Skye? This is not funny! I just lost a decade of my life! An entire decade!”

“Oh, the drama. Man, I am so glad I happened to hear about this first so I could be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what you horrible wench of a sister? WHAT?!” I yell way too loudly and then clench my fists, mad at myself for getting away from, well, myself, so quickly. And in my office with my door open. Just adding to the jokes and nicknames I already inspire. Fantastic.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she chuckles. “So, you know you’ve been getting Darrin ready for the big Europe trip in two weeks?”

“Obviously, yes, it’s my whole life right now.”

“Well, turns out Nina is super knocked up and didn’t know it, already in the second trimester,”she says slowly.

“Aw! A little baby Darrin! So cuuuuuute!” I chime in, unable to help myself. My boss is such a fun, lovable guy and his wife even more so. He’s about 5’5” and she’s even shorter, both so sweet…the thought of them in miniature squishy baby form?! Ovary explosion!

“Yes. Adorable. Anyway. Focus. He’s not comfortable leaving her for over a month, so that means his second in command needs to go in his place.”

Oh no, all my weeks of meticulous planning! Are they cancelling the…wait she said…

“His…second…”

Brain.

Malfunction.

He’s the VP of Sales.

I am his senior director of sales, his right hand man, er, woman.

Me. I am his second.

“That’s me!” I inhale the words.

“Aaaaand there it is! Yes, you. You’re going to London, Sam!” Skye exclaims happily, very unlike herself.

“WHAT!” It’s all finally hitting me and I’ve yelled again with my door open. Dang it! But also! I’M GOING TO LONDON AND PARIS!!!!

“Yup, you get to go on the big ‘shake hands kiss babies tour’ of Europe, the London convention, Paris, the gala!”

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” I can’t believe it.

“Listen, I know it’s been a hard year, and I know you hate that I’m moving out soon and I’ve been staying at Matthew’s – you’ve been alone a lot – so I’m so happy for you. We all are, we’re all so glad you get to do this, Bob.” The nickname makes me smile. “You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”

“I can’t. I don’t. I mean!” My mind is reeling.

I have planned all the minutia of this trip so Darrin could meet with our biggest overseas contacts. I found the absolute best wining, dining, touring, and schmoozing opportunities. I was so wrecked with FOMO looking at the gorgeous scenes and settings, I almost started cancelling cool events and excursions because planning was making me sad. Doesn’t help that Europe is so freaking romantic and well, the romance in my life… Anyway! Now, instead of Darrin and Emerson, it’ll be me and Emerson.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

No. Nooooooo.

“Wait, Skye. Darrin was going on the trip with Emerson Clark.”

I can hear her wince, “Yyeaaahhhh,”

I get up and close my door as I whisper-yell “Iceman Emerson. Mr. Freeze. Chief Frigid Officer! Frosty McClark!”

“Ha, I hadn’t heard that one,” she cuts in.

“He hates me, Skye.”

“No one hates you. That’d be like hating sunshine,” she says, but I’m too terrorized to appreciate a genuine compliment from the queen of snark.

“People do! People do hate sunshine, you know where they live? They live in London! Which, you’ll remember, is where E-Robot is from!”

“E-Robot, nice, did you just make that one up?”

“Skye! Listen! The man cannot stand me. I can’t go. It’ll be torture.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” she says, half laughing.

“No, you don’t understand. He avoids me, says nothing in meetings other than the absolute least amount of words he can, or he’s asking me to be quiet without asking,” I do my best Emerson impression, “‘Yes, we quite understand, Miss Canton.’”

“Terrible impression.”

“Ugh! The point is, this is going to be awful! My dream trip and I have to take it with a snowy cyborg who cannot stand me!”

“Sam, I’m sure he just can’t stand anyone. And if you guys never talk, then he doesn’t really know you enough to hate you.”

I think about this. He does seem hate everyone but he also seems to hate me, especially.

And I get it, I’m a lot.

I’ve been told I’m too much my whole life. Too talkative, too happy, too loud, too optimistic, I’ve heard it all. I wear bright colors and greet strangers and pet every dog. I get excited about, well, almost anything.

I am not forcing it or faking, even though mean girls have insisted so, in whispers behind my back, since grade school. Big reactions are just my natural reactions. I love loving things. I love feeling big feels. And I’ve worked to get to the point where most days, I love me, as I am.

I also realize that that makes me grating to some people. People who are shy or serious. Emerson Clark is exactly that, shy and serious. At least I think he’s shy, either that or he really is the world’s biggest jerkoff. He’s the CFO, a numbers genius, and known in Manhattan, not just our industry, for being ahead of his time, ruthlessly logical, totally unfeeling and exact.

So where I am too much, Emerson Clark is…. he’s a freaking void, that’s what he is. If I’m sunshine he’s not a cloud, he’s a black hole.

Plus, while he’s the CFO of the billion dollar Canton Cards, I’m an actual Canton. One of the boss’s daughters.  It’s a weird dynamic. Maybe he resents me? Even though he really does run this office, outranks me in every way, and is about ten years older? Could be.

But!

Skye is right in that he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, not really. We have never once hung out or chatted at a happy hour or at one of the million business events we’ve attended over the years. So maybe I just need to get to know him? Maybe he isn’t a cold, sucking, swirl of nothingness?

“Bobbinator? You’ve been quite for like twenty whole seconds, are you dead?”

“You’re right. He doesn’t know me.”

“Yeah, so just stick to work, have your meetings and then run off to explore the sights separately.”

“You mean explore Europe alone?!”

“Oh, Sam, you’re never alone. On day two you’ll be best friends with the concierge and the bartender and whoever else you lay eyes on.”

“Hmm,” I say, my Emerson Clark Wheels still turning.

“And hey, since you’ve sworn off men after…everything, you’ll have a built-in non-date. A cold wet buffer blanket between you and all of Europe’s eligible bachelors! It’s perfect!” She teases. “I’m walking into the studio now, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

We hang up and I continue staring out my window, contemplating her words. I shake off a shiver that crept up when she mentioned ‘everything.’

The fact is Emerson and I just don’t know each other. Maybe he’s the introvert of all introverts, even moreso than Skye, clenched shut, in need of someone patient enough to see him unfurl and show himself? In need of someone who will go the extra mile to become his friend?

If I can encourage him to get to know me, if I can win him over, we can be friends. Not a bestie like Nicole, not laugh-a-minute coworkers like me and Darrin, not confidants or anything crazy. Friends. And then we can get through this trip, maybe even enjoy it.

I create a new note on my iPhone.

 

Operation Thaw

Days Until Trip 15

Temp: -1000º

 

___

 

 

FRIDAY 4:52PM

Sally: Congrats on the trip Sam!!!!!

Susan: Yes, you deserve it!

Me: Thanks, Boss.

Skye: You guys should’ve heard her freak out when I called. *priceless*

Me: You are *THE WORST* Skye.

Sadie: So happy for you!

Skye: Just sorry you have to go with the Clarksicle

Susan: LOL He’s not that bad

Me: I have a plan for that

Sadie: Oh, do tell.

Sally: Who?

Skye: Emerson, our lifeless CFO

Sally: Oh yeah! [snowman emoji]

Me: I’m going to become his friend

Skye: yikes. Good luck with that.

Susan: Oh, give the guy a break, he’s not good with people

Me: Or eye contact. or the English language.

Susan: He talks fine in meetings

Me: Maybe on Zoom with you and Dad, CFO to COO to CEO

Me: Normal human beings?

Me: Day to day here at the office?

Me: Not so much

Sadie: He’s a Sooner, he can’t be a total loss

Sally: I thought he was British?

Me: He is, he went to OU with Adam though

Skye: Suze, how is your husband friends with him?!

Me: Good point, Skye

Me: I should ask our dear brother-in-law for some tips!

Me: Cuz Emerson Clark is NOT ruining my Europe trip!!

Sadie: At least he’s easy on the eyes

Sadie: More than easy [fire emoji]

Sally: Isn’t he like fifty years old

Susan: SUNNY! HE’S MY AGE! YOU’RE GROUNDED.

Sally: I’m in college now sis you can’t do that anymore.

Skye: 36ish, I’m guessing? And totally gorgeous

Me: Doesn’t matter

Me: His looks are hidden behind his frigid personality

Me: So! Starting Monday I have two weeks for Operation Thaw!

Susan: Operation what now?

Me: Two weeks to make Frosty become my friend!!!

Sadie: OMG ‘Operation Thaw’?! Stealing that!

Skye: Seriously Sadie, we write your novels for you, I want a check

Sally: Same $

Me: Same!!! $$$$$$$

Susan: Go easy on him, he tries

Me: I will not and he does not.

Skye: Oh boy. Susan, you better add this to your prayer list.

Me: You think she needs to pray for me?

Skye: No, she needs to pray for Emerson!

Susan: [prayer emoji]

Sally: LOL 100% Poor guy won’t know what hit him

Sadie: [prayer emoji] [prayer emoji] [prayer emoji]

Me: I hate all of you.

 

____

 

“This is SO amazing!” Nicole gushes before taking a sip of her margarita.

“Right!? The only thing standing between me and the most fun month of my life is Mr.Clark,” I spit his name.

“But you said you had a plan?”

“Yes. Become his friend,” she makes a concerned face at me, “with help from my best friend,” I smile wildly.

“I’m not his assistant, Sam, I just help Margaret sometimes. If you want insider info you’ll have to cozy up to her.”

“One does not ‘cozy up’ to Marge In Charge. She’s almost as frosty as her boss.”

Nicole chuckles, “They are quite the pair.”

“The first step is obvious.” Nicole asks me what I mean with her eyebrows. “Socials. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

I pull up my phone and a pang of anxiety, or maybe grief, and maybe shame?…pangs of many feelings strike me. I open Instagram first, and type in his name.

“Not on Instagram it looks like.” I say, showing her the search results.

“Well, not a huge shocker.” She says.

“Right.” I pull up Facebook. “Private profile. Not going to request him now after four years. So. That leaves us with the one he’s sure to be on, LinkedIn, aaaand yup, there he – what! Dang! Icy has over nine thousand connections!”

“I’m kinda surprised it’s not more.”

“I’m, I’m in legitimate shock.” I move on to actually read his profile. “Still, not much to work with. After OU he went home to England for his master’s degree, worked there for a few years then came to New York and started with us, wow, almost ten years ago.”

“I can work with his headshot, that’s for sure.” She says dryly. I laugh too loudly, not expecting her comment.

“Same,” I say. “Looks like he’s peering through the camera into my soul. And no smile, why is it so hot that he’s not smiling?”

“I don’t know, but it is.” she agrees.

“Too bad his personality is that of a frozen port-a-potty.”

“Ouch! If you keep that up I’m going to start calling you Skye. He’s just quiet and professional, probably shy and misunderstood.”

“Okay, okay, I will try to ease up.” I zoom in on his headshot and talk to my phone screen. “Prepare to be understood, Mr.CFO.”

A waiter appears at our table with two margaritas as I’m putting down my phone.  She looks at me with a wink. “This is from the gentleman at the bar, and another for your friend.” I trace the gesture over her shoulder to a hot guy across the bar area smiling our way. He gives a nod and I give a small wave. He’s sitting, but looks to be a bit on the shorter side, and as if maybe he logs extra hours lifting weights to compensate. He’d probably be a lot of fun, if I were up for fun right now.

“Nice, what’d you do this time?” Nicole whispers to me, her gorgeous dark curls fall in front of her face a bit as she eyes our patron.

“What? Nothing!”

“You didn’t eye him walking by or something, Flirts-r-us?”

“When? I’ve been sitting here with you!”

She sighs. “I bet it your crazy donkey laugh alerted him to your gorgeous presence.”

“Excuse me, my laugh is delightful.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure that’s what he’s thinking about and not the girls you’ve got propped up on the table.” I laugh too loudly again, then cover my mouth.

I do have my chest smashed up against the table but I can’t help my laugh or my curves. I’m grateful that curvy is a desirable adjective these days, but I still get flashes of self-consciousness. I was on the far side of ‘thick’ as a child, and even now with a trim waist, my body is the type that will retain pounds if I so much as look at a donut. Shoot, if I even walk by a donut shop. I’m not one who can just ignore calories or neglect exercise. “You going to go talk to him?” Nicole breaks through my thoughts.

“Wha- no – you know I -.”

“Right, right, sorry,” she sighs again. “All your mojo gone to waste.” Something crosses over my face. “Sorry, Sam. Not waste. I bet it gets stored up, all your magnetism, and when you’re ready to date again, watch out New York!”

I laugh it off. “You know it!”

 

____

 

When I get home to Gus, who barely greets me because he is one thousand percent my introvert sister’s cat, I pull out my phone again. I text Susan that I’m logging into her Facebook, and laugh that she’s surprised we all know her password of the last sixteen years, SoonerSuze1234. Real secure, Ms.COO.

She’s friends with Emerson because of my brother-in-law, so I pull up his profile. I’m not surprised his Facebook is lacking in juicy details as well. The only nugget of interest for me to chew on is a few profile photos with a stunning redhead thirteen years back. Gosh, Facebook is so old and lame. But hey, how else would I stalk my friend-to-be? The woman, Chelsea Wittington, is with him a few times, for about two years, then he updated his profile to a solo pic…right around the time he came back to the states.

Wait.

Did Emerson Clark cross the pond over a break up?! Is that why he’s so cold? Do we have a classic hurt people hurt people situation going on here?! I text Nicole.

 

Me: How have we not discussed Mr. Clark’s love life?!

Me: Does he have a girlfriend?

Nicole: You can’t be serious.

Me: NO!

Me: Not like that!

Me: I found an ex of his on FB

Nicole: Oh ok. Yes I think he might. She’s never come to the office but when he actually goes to events and takes a date he always has the same plus one, Miranda something.

Me: Roger.

 

I find a Miranda Pinell in Emerson’s friends list. She has a public profile, and no wonder. Legs for days, thin arms, flat abs. She’s also English. So basically Hailey Beiber with a sexy accent and white blonde hair. Damn. Well done, Emerson! I copy her profile over to Nicole.

 

Me: This her?

Me: [Facebook link]

Nicole: Yup

Me: She’s got to be a model.

Nicole: Yup  

 

Well, with a supermodel girlfriend, I imagine Emerson has recovered from his broken heart. Which means I’m back to the question of the day; is this man cold and rude or quiet and shy? Can one be both? On Monday, I plan to find out.

 

 

Chapter 2

MONDAY 6:55AM

Sadie: I’m dying to know if you’re ready for Operation Thaw

Susan: Poor Emerson

Me: He goes by Mr.Clark at the office

Susan: Does he really?!

Me: Really.

Me: Anyway I am locked and loaded.

Me: Look what I found over the weekend:

Me: [ Link: How to Befriend Introverts ]

Me: [ Link: How to Become Friends with Your Boss ]

Susan: He’s not technically your boss

Me: He’s the boss of the NYC office, I assure you

Skye: OMG LOLOLOL

Sally: You guys woke me up [angry emoji]

Skye: Sam I’m reading that first article, you’re doomed. You literally do ALL of those things it says not to do. I’m dying. DEAD.

Me: [ middle finger emoji ]

Me: I have my mantras

Me: I am wearing neutrals & quiet shoes

Skye: Neutrals! The horror!

Me: I have Sooner Football stats

Me: I have quarterly sales numbers

Sadie: If you want him to be your friend maybe also be yourself?

Skye: Yourself…but like watered down. ‘Samantha Lite’ LOL

Sally: Skye, this is on Sam’s behalf: [middle finger emoji]

Susan: I repeat: Poor Emerson

Me: I have Nicole, my secret weapon.

Me: And on top of aaaalllll that, I have baked goods!

Me: I’m unstoppable!

 

 

“Stop!” Marge says, almost yells, as I head towards Emerson’s office after giving her an easy breezy ‘Good Morning’ rather than my usual chat about her weekend. I’m on a time crunch to make a friend, here, and that friend isn’t her. It’s so early I’m pretty sure she, myself, and The Cold One are the only people in the office. Nicole isn’t even perched at the front desk yet.

“Oh, I just wanted to chat with Emerson really quick.”

“Sorry, Miss Canton, but you’ll have to make an appointment.”

“Oh, is he on a call already?” I smile and give the lashes a flutter, seriously doubting he’s doing anything important before 8AM. Marge shoots me a look. She’s what Dad would call an’ ol battle ax. She’s in her early sixties, and warm in a northern way, which is unlike the motherly warmth of an auntie from the south. That’s to say she can be friendly but when it comes to her job, but she’s as firm as the skyscraper she sits in. And while she looks more like a poodle with her slim figure and coifed hair, she is all pitbull when it comes to protecting Emerson’s privacy, preferences and schedule.

“Mr.Clark is unavailable right now. Looks like he is free at 10:45?”

I fail at suppressing a scoff. “He doesn’t have a five minute break in the next two hours and forty-five minutes?!”

She is unmoved.

“I’m afraid not.” She shoots my sweet smile right back at me.

Score one for Marge.

“Alright,” I sigh, “Well, I brought an assortment of beignets, chocolate croissants and crepes to get him excited for all the amazing French food in two weeks, maybe you can slip them to him before they get cold,” I set the box on her desk.

“Oh, Mr.Clark doesn’t eat sweet breakfasts.”

I blink for couple seconds. “Um, what?”

“He rarely eats sugar at all, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought.”

Doesn’t eat sugar?! Freaking Robot!

I breathe through my shock, frustration and cutting disappointment. Cutting not because of the severity but the timing. My plan has been in motion for maybe five minutes, and it’s already veering off its tracks.

“Well, bummer! I guess you and Nicole and anyone else can enjoy them and I’ll see him at 10:45! Thanks Mar- Ms.Wayne!” Whew, glad I didn’t slip and call her Marge out loud. The pitbull does not like nicknames, or even first names, just like her icy master.

Do I give Emerson’s large corner office a blazing side eye as I turn from Marge’s desk? Yes, yes I do. But I can’t see details, only the fuzzy outline of his large silhouette at his desk.

And poof, I’m even more annoyed.

Just knowing he’s in there, silent, at his, I assume perfect and uncluttered desk, with his perfect hair, in his perfect three-piece suit. Grrrrrr. My sisters weren’t wrong about the ease at which my eyes – anyone with eyes –  have taken in my quasi-boss. He’s unfairly gorgeous. So much so I get nervous speaking around him in meetings…me, get nervous talking!? Ugh. If he’s going to act like an ogre, why couldn’t he look like one too?

I slump a bit as I take the few steps past Darrin’s office to my own small space. The other offices and conference spaces remain dark, as I suspected. These offices aren’t grand, especially by Manhattan standards, but man, I love them.

Our sprawling Canton headquarters in Tulsa is impressive, with multiple buildings, green spaces – complete with bikes and scooters, like a flyover-state-family-owned version of Google HQ – plus studio spaces for marketing and our warehouses containing hundreds of thousands of units of cards and gifts. It’s awesome. But it’s not New York City.

I sip my coffee in defeat, looking out my window onto building after building after building, all teeming with energy and excitement. A thrill fills me, as usual, thinking of all the people surrounding me beyond the glass and concrete. So many conversations, plans, hopes, dreams, impromptu  meet-cutes, coincidental accidents. I wonder if right now someone is walking right by their soulmate or bumping into their future husband at a coffee shop. Ugh, there you go again, Nimrod! Get a grip!

I open a message to Nicole.

 

 

Me: Why didn’t you tell me Frozone doesn’t eat sweets?

Me: I showed up early with beignets and chocolate croissants.

Me: FAIL!

Nicole: Oh crap! Margaret is a stickler about having plain bagel and toast options on hand, I should’ve thought of that.

Nicole: Sorry! I will step up my insider game!

 

I groan a bit thinking about how hard this whole idea might turn out to be. Doesn’t. Eat. Sugar. I mean I track my diet like a tween watches TikTok, never two big carbs or desserts in one day, but nothing? Hello, um, brownies? Cheesecake? Effing chocolate croissants?! Ugh.

I’ve been wracking my brain to think of the last time he said words to me, actual sounds from his mouth to mine. A few weeks back, at the end of a meeting with myself and Darrin he’d said “Miss Canton” as a goodbye, with a slight nod. I’ve had nods in elevators and earned sighs or dismissive grunts on conference calls. And that’s it.

I give my own dismissive grunt a spin as I stare out. It helps. Normally I would head out to meetings with distributors but today, as with most days the last few weeks, I focus on the upcoming trip. The purpose of the trip is to foster relationships with our retailers, manufacturers, buyers, and consultants in Europe, primarily London and Paris. And by foster relationships I mean we’re setting out on a month-long schmoozapalooza.

I don’t actually like the term schmooze, though, because it implies the interest and affection is disingenuous. I am genuine with everyone. Do I like everyone? No (See His Freezing Highness two doors down.) But I’m interested. I like people in general. And people like to be liked.

If we want to maintain our current sales with Whosits & Whatits Gift Shops, the Gage brothers  need to like our products, sure, but they needs to like us. Same with the buyer for Sainsbury’s locations all over the UK. So, in addition to detailing our dinners and cocktail hours, I’ve also made a master binder containing the people we’ll be meeting with, their families, hobbies, likes, dislikes, and of course, their sales records, and which of our product lines they prefer. I sit down at my desk and dig back into said binder.

Time flies until an alert pops up on my computer, thanks to Marge’s devotion to digital scheduling down to the millisecond. I ready myself. If there’s one thing I’m a natural at, it’s making friends. In the few steps from my door to his I remind myself: Grin and Hold it In, Samantha: Easy breezy conversation, to the point, without all the unnecessary details and detours and exclamations. I got this.  I steal a glance at Marge at 10:45 on the dot and she nods.

I knock twice as I push on the door at the same time is deep voice says, “Come In.”

Crapitty crap crap crap on a cracker.

He is just so intimidating. Like a mashup of beefy Henry Cavill and beautiful Jude Law, he sits there in a charcoal gray suit and vest with a light blue tie almost as vivid as his eyes. I was right about his desk – immaculate – and his hair – with every wavy light brown strand perfectly combed to the side. He looks like one of my very first imaginary boyfriends, my hand-me-down Ken doll that was Susan’s in the 90s.

“GOOD MORNING!” I basically shout, causing him to startle in his chair. Damn it!

He inhales. “Miss Canton.” he responds in a quiet, pinched way. Even grumpy, his accent is so sexy it’s cruel. He briefly glances at me…a me wearing a white shirt tucked into a beige pencil skirt with nude heels, all of which is just begging for a bright orange scarf or magenta earrings or some sign of life, which I denied myself, in order to be more palatable to the beautiful beast sitting before me.

It’s just a moment before he snaps his gaze up to my eyes, but in that moment a flash of something crosses his face, distaste maybe? Disapproval? Annoyance? He doesn’t say good morning or ask why I’m standing there. The awkward pause twists my nerves into a bundle and shoves them straight out of my mouth.

“So, I don’t know if Margaret told you, but I brought some beignets and chocolate croissants and other French breakfast foods to get you inspired for our Paris trip, because you know I’m going with you now instead of Darrin, right?

Oh, wait, did you know that? Of course you did. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t bring like toast or crumpets or whatever Britts eat – um sidebar, what exactly is a crumpet?! Ha! – but then that wouldn’t be very fun for you, anyway, would it? I will look and see if there are sugar free French breakfast options, especially before we leave, which is in just two weeks! Isn’t it so exciting!

I’m super excited, anyway, since I planned the whole thing. It’s basically my dream trip, you know? So I’m so excited we get to go together. I mean not together, obviously but that I get to go with you. Or that I get to go. Period, end of sentence. Full stop! As you say! Ha! Because I won’t be with you all the time obviously, you will want your space and to, like, get your introvert on! Right?! And some time to go see your family in London, obviously, of course.

So, anyway, how bout them Sooners, am I right? Dad says it’s gonna be one heck of a season!”

 

What.

The hell.

Just happened.

 

That’s what I’m asking my mouth.

That’s what Emerson Clark is clearly asking himself.

He’s staring at me, blinking, like his brain could only keep up with maybe a third of what I just projectiled out so fast, as if speed talking is an Olympic sport and I’m going for gold. I also felt myself get louder and louder as Iceman leaned further and further back in his chair, begging it to swallow him whole and deposit him out onto the pavement below by way of a magical escape chute.

I did not grin and hold it in. Nope, I sure did not.

Now I just stand, unsure that I can open my mouth again without further exploding syllables all over the room.

“Yes, they do look promising this season,” he finally leans the tiniest bit forward from the Emerson indentation in the leather chair, “And thank you, for the pastries. Is there something specific you wanted to discuss?”

“Um, well, no, I-”

“Alright, then I really should-“

“No, wait! Yes! I wanted to ask you if you had any specific requests for the trip, I had really planned the whole thing with Darrin and he was the one giving me feedback but I’m thinking you might -“

“I’m sure whatever you have planned will be perfectly suitable, Miss Canton.” He says, standing, cutting me off, looking irritated. Actually, he looks beyond irritated he looks pained, constipated even, as if talking to me upsets his bowels. I upset no one’s bowels, asshole! I’m a flippin’ ray of daggum light! 

“Of course, Mr.Clark,” I say, concentrating on keeping a light tone and a not-forced smile. I am frozen in a cloud of confusion and rage. This freaking man. He’s standing there blinking without even a hint of a reciprocal polite grin.

“Then I really must get to my next appointment,” he gives a small nod and walks around me, giving me the berth of a rabid leper, and leaves his office.

He-

He just left his own office to flee from me.

I turn and stare at the closed door, my bottom lip hanging down to brush the carpet fibers.

 

Operation Thaw

Days Until Trip 12

Temp: -10000000000º

 

Chapter 3

MONDAY 6:43PM

From: Samantha@CantonIntl.com

To: MWayne@CantonIntl.com

 

Tomorrow

Thanks for scheduling that meeting with Emerson today! Could you please get me another fifteen minute appointment at his earliest convenience?

 

Have a great day,

 

Samantha Canton

Senior Director of East Sales

Canton Cards International

 

 

Re: Tomorrow

Miss Canton,

Of course, that will be Wednesday. And what is this meeting regarding?

 

Best,

 

Margaret Waynes

Executive Assistant to Emerson Clark,

Chief Financial Officer

Canton Cards International

 

 

Re: Re: Tomorrow

Europe sales figures and targets.

 

Thanks, You’re the best!!!!!

 

Samantha Canton

Senior Director of East Sales

Canton Cards International

 

 

I wince at myself after I’ve already hit send. Apparently my anxious determination flew through my fingers and landed in Marge’s email box as exclamation marks. Five there at the end, and just when I thought I was getting better at that. Lovely.

 

 

 

MONDAY 6:43PM

 

Skye: So? Sam? How was Operation Thaw Day One, is he your bestie yet?

Sadie: Yes, do tell

Sally: Also please send a selfie of your subdued outfit

Me: [selfie]

Sadie: Gorg as always!

Skye: OMG YOU’RE SUSAN

Sally: lol that’s what I was going to say

Susan: No surprise then that I think you look fantastic!

 

MONDAY 7:20PM

 

Skye: ???? You didn’t answer how it went

Me: Bad.

 

MONDAY 7:52PM

 

Sally: OMG you just texted us one text at a time and it was only one word

Sadie: Skye maybe you should swing by and check on her

Susan: I am genuinely concerned. What happened??

Skye: spill it!

Me: Ugh fine.

Me: He doesn’t eat sugar

Me: and I went full SamStorm on him

Me: So bad that he LEFT HIS OWN OFFICE to get away from me

Sally: hahahahaha

Sadie: yikes!

Susan: [nervous emoji]

Skye: [Animated gif of woman falling down]

Me: I would be mad at you Skye but that gif is painfully accurate

Me: Still, I have 12 more days.

Me: And I’m not about to give up

Me: I’m a Canton for shit’s sake!

Skye: ya you are

Susan: language

Sally: [100% emoji]

Sadie: [flex emoji]

Susan: [prayer emoji]

 

____

 

WEDNESDAY 7:55AM

 

Me: I have another meeting with him today, haaalp!

Me: C’mon you do so much planning with Marge In Charge

Nicole: Is that why you’re dressed like her today?

Me: Can you think of a list things he loves/hates?

Me: Topics to avoid?

Nicole: I already told you there’s not much, he hates being late, if meetings run late or start late, etc.

Nicole: He hates video conferencing, ice in his drink, the subway.

Nicole: The man is a vault.

Me: Does he actually LIKE anything?

Nicole: He seems to like rain. And snow.

Me: OF COURSE HE LIKES RAIN AND SNOW.

Me: I hate my life. 

Nicole: Babe maybe you should skip this trip

Me: What?! It’s Europe!

Nicole: Yes, but it’s Europe *for work*

Nicole: Plan this trip but for fun instead

Nicole: And go without the Snow King

Me: And admit defeat?

Me: Never!

Me: I’m going on this trip

Me: And I’m going with my soon-to-be-friend

 

I ready myself for round two when Margaret’s calendar notification pops up on my screen. I can do this. Slow it and Stowe it, Sam. I will speak calmly and at a normal person’s volume, and I will shove down all the extraneous commentary. I take a deep breath as I connect eyes with a nodding Marge and push into his office.

“Hey!” I say on my exhale. I try my best not to greet him by name because calling him Mr.Clark adds a brick to the wall of formality I’m trying to bust down. Friends call each other by their first names.

“Miss Canton,” he says. Again he briefly looks me over and then his eyes dart away. He has the same disgusted expression for half a moment, but I force myself not to reveal that I notice or care.

Just because he doesn’t like my physical appearance doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. In fact, that probably helps, since straight men and women sometimes struggle in platonic friendships. He continues, “It says we’re to discuss Europe sales figures and targets?”

“Right, I brought-“ I step to his desk, blank and sleek, like his entire office, save the few family photos along the window sill behind him. I move to hand him the printouts I brought.

“If there are to be changes, they really should be discussed with Darrin, not me,” he cuts me off.

“Oh, well I just thought -”

“Whatever he has approved, I approve.” He shifts in his seat after he cuts me off yet again. He is clearly about to dismiss me. I take a deep breath, inhaling my bitter defeat. I turn to exit but whip back around quickly, nerves taking over. My brain shoots an arrow to my mouth, the memory of an article I read that said Brits love to discuss the weather.

“Brutally, hot today, isn’t it? Gosh, I just wish it would rain, don’t you? Like just pour good ol’ cats and dogs down on us so you could get out your ol’ brolly and take a stroll?” I can feel myself blushing. But my mouth carries on without my permission, “Brolly is the British term for umbrella, Google told me, but of course you know that. But there’s just nothing quite like it, is there? I just love it, being wet. I mean getting wet! I mean in the rain! I mean walking! Out in the rain!”

Aaaaand he has started coughing.

Now I’m the one wishing for his chair to suck him into its plush fabric.

“Quite right,” he finally says, his face almost as purple as my own. “If you’ll just,” the words are so painfully stuck he has to clear his throat, “just close the door on the way out, please.”

“SURE!” I yell as I turn on a dime and run for my life.

Lord God Almighty! I guess you haven’t been hearing Susan’s prayers? HELP ME!

 

____

 

My face has not returned to its normal color palette by the time we gather in the conference room for the Senior All Hands. For these meetings, most of the New York office attends, joining the team in a large Tulsa conference room via video chat. Sometimes Dad or Susan or the other C-Level executives conference in separately if they’re traveling, but it’s encouraged everyone be in the room together.

This means that despite his objection to these types of calls, Emerson is going to head to the conference room. I decide to follow after him, so I can sit by him during the meeting. I love meetings, phone, video or otherwise. Maybe seeing me in my element will help him open up to the idea of, well, not even a friendship at this point. Right now I need him to open up to the idea of me, just in general, as a human.

Three minutes before the scheduled start, he exits his lair, and I wait a beat to follow behind. He takes one of the last few available seats, joined by Nicole on his far side, and I sit beside him on the other. I flash my friend a smile. Double teaming him, I like it! I turn to him with that smile, willing my face to remain calm.

“Any idea what this all hands is about?” I ask him.

“The invitation said social media training.” He says flatly.

“Oh right! It did! Probably your least favorite thing in the world, am I right?” I jab at his elbow with my own.

He doesn’t respond because the ping of the meeting software draws all of our attention to the giant screen at the far end of the table. Jenn, our CMO waves in greeting and everyone chimes in with a ‘hello’ or a wave. Everyone except the statue to my left. Instead, he exhales as if he’s truly exasperated, even though the meeting has gone on all of fifteen seconds.

As she launches into the agenda for the meeting, Emerson gets up and leaves the conference room. I watch him leave, curious and confused. Can he just bail on meetings like that? Surely not. If he was invited to a high level meeting, Dad must have wanted him present.

I forget about him as I listen to Jenn and her team talk about new social media trends and corporate guidelines. I crack a few jokes and ask a few relevant questions, as always. I just don’t see the point in holding back something that may be helpful to the group, including a well-timed joke at my expense or Dad’s or any other Canton in the meeting. It’s fun. I like to add some fun. I’m feeling pleased with myself and wishing Emerson had stayed to witness my legendary meeting skills.

Until Jenn addresses Emerson in the back of the room.

He’s in the back of the room?!

He’s in the back of the room.

He wordlessly nods at whatever Jenn said, leaning against the wall. He left the seat next to me at the table, came back, and instead of returning to the available seat by me, chose to stand in the back.

A lesser (or maybe sane?) person would wave their white flag at this point. But I can’t. At least, not yet. Because this thick tension with him cannot be carried onto the plane and across the sea with us. It simply cannot. I have GOT to find a way to cut it.

Time for reinforcements.

 

WEDNESDAY 6:40PM

From: Samantha@CantonIntl.com

To: Adam@BellConst.com

 

Your Stupid Friend

Dear favorite brother-in-law,

Your wife may have explained I am trying to befriend your silent arctic ogre of a friend Emerson Clark. I am getting nowhere fast, please advise ASAP!

 

Have a great day,

 

Samantha Canton

Senior Director of East Sales

Canton Cards International

 

Re: Your Stupid Friend

Ha, I am still your only brother-in-law. Emerson is a guy. A quiet, private guy but overall a nice dude. One of the best, actually. Get some beers in him and just be chill and talk. Ask him about his work, he’ll nerd out and babble on. Or tease him about England. Just don’t try and force it.

 

Sincerely,

Adam Bell

Bell Construction

 

I cringe. Don’t try and force it. That was spelled out on the Don’t List in one of the articles I read. At this point, I’m thinking of changing my legal name to Samantha ForcingIt Canton. Still, I am on a timeline. My brother-in-law doesn’t understand. I can’t just sit back and wait for a friendship to naturally happen when we never see or talk to one another. Being chill is not my strong suit but beers, now beers I can do. I shoot an email asking Marge for an end of day appointment for tomorrow.

I reply to Adam for a beer recommendation and start to brainstorm questions about work and England. I can feel the sinking feeling in my gut – the spark of hope about this, starting to flicker out. I shake my head a bit. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Buzz and Woody didn’t become pals overnight. Patience, Samantha. Patience!

 

 

WEDNESDAY 9PM

Sadie: Update?

Me: Welp, today he got up and left the conference room

Me: So he wouldn’t have to sit next to me

Sally: F this guy. You don’t need him as a friend

Susan: Oh please, I’m sure he just had to pee!

Me: I’m sure that even if he did, he didn’t come back to his seat

Me: Like a normal person

Me: And instead snuck in the other door to STAND the whole meeting

Skye: Maybe you need to switch deodorants!

Sadie: Admitting defeat?

Me: Not yet.

Me: Trying beers tomorrow.

Sally: I say abort.

Sadie: I say do it because I think you’ll grow on him.

Skye: I say do it because I want to hear how badly it goes!

Susan: I say I don’t want to know any details, esp if you’re drinking at the office!

Me: Skye, [middle finger]

Me: Susan, sister first, COO second!

Me: And all y’all – pray harder!