“Nope,” I say. “We’re going to have a little talk.”
15
TRIPP
“Hydroponics is too refined.”
I lift my eyes from the phone in my hand to check Mesa’s reaction. She’s at the kitchen table with her laptop next to a mug of tea she hasn’t touched in a while. I don’t think she likes the suggestion from the exec on the other end of this virtual meeting.
I knew this was on her schedule, and I should have shown up later on tonight. But anticipation got the best of me and I came over early. We have a few things to discuss, she and I.
She sits tall and confident. The papers in her hand ruffle as she places them neatly to her left.
“Respectfully, if a ten-year-old can learn to grow basil in a coffee can, they’re more than capable of tackling hydroponic tomatoes,” she defends.
“Maybe. But it’s still too research-heavy. Can you just stick to our container gardening idea?”
“Containers are a decent alternative since most of the kids on the app don’t have backyards,” she points out. “But as the original creators, we’re hoping to raise the standards of science this time around. You called it anupdate, did you not? If wemove forward creating opportunities for learning that are too surface-level and similar to the first version of lessons, we’re under-serving the more advanced portion of our users.”
I stare with a practically unhinged jaw. It’s no secret that Mesa has always been able to outsmart anyone while being hot as hell doing it. She’s never been as hot as she is right now, though. I catch myself before biting my lip like an idiot. Although, it’s a better alternative than drooling.
“That may be true, and I see your point. But you’ve bundled a lot into one checkpoint proposal, Ms. Riley,” the exec counters. “You’re asking me to approve more than a lesson plan on growing plants with nothing but water and fertilizer. Are you forgetting the additional AR components? Won’t that slow down the interface?”
Mesa slowly shakes her head. “Not if we build it to preload regionally based on zip code. School enrollment data should be on your radar, too. With district approval, of course. Classrooms have different resources than these kids do at home. Planting season and weather patterns are a huge factor as well. The information we’re giving them simply won’t work without their location.”
A minute passes while several men discuss what she said in a hushed tone. I try to follow the debate, but my brains are no match for hers.
“I’d be happy to invite the developer to another meeting if you need help understanding,” Mesa adds with a smile.
She makes it look sweet, but I know better. Those are shark’s teeth, and I fucking love it. Good luck with that, boys.
I chuckle and let out an impressed huff. Her eyes flick to mine. They widen slightly as if she can chew my ass without a word for not staying silent like we discussed. I hold up my hands in retreat.
“No need,” one of the men cuts back in. “You’ve given us plenty of information, and we see the upside. Thank you for your time. We’ll get the approval sent over on Monday.”
“Excellent. Have a wonderful night, gentlemen.”
A ringtone-like beep signals the end of the meeting, and Mesa lets out a long breath of relief. I have to laugh out loud when she fully lets her guard down and pulls her hair from its sophisticated bun. It cascades over her shoulders, and I clench my fist.
I’ve always respected fierce women. But I like that Mesa is ruthless in a way that isn’t unsettling. The problem is that I’d like to see more of it in other ways. While I pin her hands behind her back, for example.
I shift in my spot on her couch as the confidence I had when I first arrived starts to lower.
After hanging her blazer over the nearest chair, she ruffles her long, thick hair. That leaves her in nothing but a black tank top, and I smirk. Tea in hand, she walks to the living room. I prop my feet on the coffee table when she plops down next to me.
“Try this,” she says, holding her tea toward me. “It’s lavender honey and totally homemade.”
I bring the warm mug to my mouth, smelling it first. So far, so good, but when the liquid falls over my tongue, I raise my brows.
“You made this?”
“Yes! Good, right?”
“Mouth-watering,” I answer.
It tastes like a dryer sheet. Either my palate is far from sophisticated, or I’m not a tea person. Either way, I won’t say that out loud. Not right now, at least. Not before I need her to know I’m not in the mood for teasing or exchanging jabs like usual.
I hand back the drink and give her a closed-lip smile. With the tank top she’s wearing, my eyes land on the smooth skin around her exposed collarbone. Drifting up, I scan the contours of her face.
