5 Bikers for Valentines

Monday came and went without incident. I went back to work and everything from the weekend was forgotten. The blonde from Friday night slipped my mind completely, and I even forgot about my time with Josh. Once I made it back to Ennis, I threw myself into my work the way I’d done for ten years. My job was my life, and my life was my job. I allowed myself a break from time to time, but I always kept my eye on the prize. I didn’t make my millions by slacking off.

Tuesday morning brought in some executives from one of the largest oil companies in the country that I’d never met before. I’d been in contact with their employees for years, but they’d never taken the time to sit down and speak with me one-on-one.

Until now.

“Good morning,” I said when they walked through the door. I jumped out of my chair and extended my hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Timothy Harrington said. He shook my hand and took a seat.

“You must be Jonathan,” I said to the man behind him.

“Nice to meet you, Michael,” Jonathan said.

“You as well,” I said. “Please, have a seat.”

I gestured toward the empty chair beside Timothy. Jonathan sat down. Jonathan was Timothy’s son, and they’d been running their company together for over twenty years. They were no-nonsense and extremely professional. I knew their reputation well, and so, I knew exactly how to conduct the meeting.

“And you can make that work?” Timothy asked after we got further into the discussion.

“Of course,” I said. “The tools we sell are of the highest quality, but there’s always room for improvement. I won’t hem and haw over a screw here or a screw there. So long as you can commit to exclusively using our tools on your rigs, I’ll make it work however you need.”

“That’s great to hear,” Jonathan said. “To be honest, we were a little concerned about coming in today.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and crossing my hands over my chest. It was my power pose. The position I took whenever I needed to seem thoughtful and focused.

“You’re young,” Timothy said simply.

I smiled. “I won’t argue with that,” I said. “But my thirtieth birthday has come and gone. I’m not a zygote anymore.”

“You might as well be,” Timothy said boldly. “I’ve had the run of the oil business for four decades now. Twenty years ago, Jonathan stepped up. We’ve been doing this since you were just a child.”

“Which is exactly why I trust your judgment,” I said. “While I do have ten years of my own experience, I understand that you’re both miles ahead of me. I look forward to learning from you and growing together.”

Timothy nodded approvingly, but Jonathan continued to look skeptical. He didn’t know me and, yet, for some reason, he doubted me. I knew it couldn’t just be about my age, but the reason didn’t matter. I vowed internally to prove him wrong. No matter what it took.

“Well,” Timothy said. “Have your secretary send over the contracts, and we’ll look them over. If everything is in order, we’ll sign and get this deal off the ground.”

“Sounds great.” I smiled and stood. Timothy and Jonathan each shook my hand before slipping out of my office.

I stayed on my feet for a few minutes, just in case they came back. When I was sure they were gone, I exhaled sharply and fell back in my chair.

I knew I had what they needed and that the deal would benefit both of us greatly. I just hoped that Jonathan would be as on board as his father was. I needed to make sure this all went off without a hitch.

“Marcy?” I called, not bothering to use the intercom. My secretary immediately appeared at my open office door.

“Yes, Mr. Smart?” she asked.

“I need you to get those contracts over to the Harringtons today,” I said. “Ideally, I’d like the papers to beat them back to the office.”

“I’ll fax them immediately,” Marcy said with a nod.

“Thank you.”

She hurried out of the office and, within seconds, I heard the familiar buzz of the fax machine. I smiled. This was a good thing. Working with the Harringtons would bring in more money and more customers. I turned to face my computer and, when my phone rang an

hour later, I was grateful for the interruption.

“Hey, Josh,” I said, pressing my phone to my ear.