Working It by Cathy Yardley Read Free Book Online Page B

anyway? She should just walk. Tell Betsy that she’d made a huge error in judgment, plead for her to forget about their little agreement, and go back to waiting for her performance review. Better still, pretending that she’d never even heard of Robson Steel, the town of San Angelo, or Mr. Sexy Pants Drew Robson himself.
    She took a deep, cleansing breath.
    Nobody screws up on your watch, right?
    She wasn’t walking away. And apparently, Drew Robson wasn’t the only screaming idiot in town.
    After several choice curses and a few daydreams ofstrangling Drew—among other things; she was only human, after all—she finally settled down and shifted into problem-solving mode.
    It wasn’t impossible. Few things were. What did she really need, anyway? She needed more time to teach a man who was infuriating, smug, and utterly appealing how to sell.
    While I’m at it, might as well tackle that whole World Peace thing, she thought, shifting gears. At least she had two hours on the road. She tended to think better when she was on the road, anyway.
    She blinked.
    On the road.
    She grinned, the car’s roaring engine seeming to cheer her thoughts. Three-week road trip. Now there was a solution.
    Â 
    â€œI’ M GLAD you’re going through with this, Drew. It’ll mean a lot. And I’m sure you’ll get more comfortable once you get out on the road.”
    Drew tossed his luggage into the trunk of his Chevy Impala with a little more force than necessary. Ken had been talking to him since Drew had walked through the door this morning. Drew was pretty sure he’d get more comfortable as soon as he was behind the wheel of the car and away from Ken’s compulsive encouragement.
    â€œYou went over the list of clients, right?”
    â€œYes, Ken,” he dutifully replied as he put his garment bag next to his big Samsonite. He was going to be on the road for three weeks. He felt as if he’d packed for a war.
    â€œDid you bring samples?”
    â€œBrought the product brochures,” Drew replied,looking at Ken skeptically. “I’m not bringing a two-ton oil cap with me. I don’t think my car’s rated for that kind of weight.”
    â€œOh. Of course.” Ken smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. This is so important for Robson Steel.”
    â€œBelieve me, I know that,” Drew said. Ken was standing next to the car, flanked by Mrs. Packard, who was too cool a customer to wring her hands. Still, her staccato-sharp voice was shooting questions at him each time Ken stopped to take a breath.
    â€œYou’ve got all of your maps?” It would’ve sounded more maternal if she’d sounded less angry. “All the addresses?”
    â€œRight in the passenger seat, Mrs. Packard.” She’d neatly printed all of the driving instructions. He was surprised she hadn’t installed GPS in his car one afternoon while he wasn’t looking.
    â€œI’ve included a lot of information on the customers, the most I could get my hands on,” Ken said apologetically, looking at Mrs. Packard a little warily. “You should have at least the night before to go over the papers. And you’re bringing your laptop, right?”
    â€œYeah, I’ve got the laptop.” He put the laptop case next to the garment bag. Thank God he had a huge trunk. At this rate, he’d probably be putting Ken in the trunk and strapping Mrs. Packard to the roof. “I’ve got the background, I’ve got the maps, I’ve got the product descriptions. My cell phone battery is charged, I’ve got my spare and the charger with me. I’ve got about forty pairs of clean boxers with my name written on them. Anything else?”
    Ken grinned. “You only brought forty pairs?”
    â€œYou’ll want bottled water for the trip,” Mrs. Packard said. “It’s a long drive. It’s easy to get