Page 19 of Last First Kiss

“That kind of arrogance isn’t as cute as you think it is!” Kim calls after him.

“It’s not arrogance,” Jordan rebuffs, grinning. “It’stalent.”

“That’s a funny way of sayingcocky!”

“Save some doughnuts for the interns,” Jordan instructs over his shoulder.

“Good luck!” Connor yells.

Jordan’s head tips back as he laughs. He doesn’t need luck. All he needs is his iPad—which he snatches from his office desk—and complete focus. He’s spent weeks preparing for this meeting. Reviewed as many of the company’s past events as he could find. Put feelers out to the best possible vendors. Studied what information he could gather about his clients.

There’s no way he’s going to fail.

Around the corner are private meeting spaces and a main conference room. Across from that, the CEO’s office.

Jordan strides toward the open door.

A woman exits before he can walk in.

“Oh, Jor-Bear!”

He grimaces at the childhood nickname. “Mom,” Jordan says in his least petulant voice. “Please don’t call me that at work.”

Or ever, he wants to add.

“Oh, hush,” Cheryl says. Her perfume wafts between them. Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle. Its rose and citrusy notes transport Jordan back to being five years old again. “No one’s around to hear me.”

Despite himself, Jordan smiles.

He shares a lot of his mom’s features, from their warm brown complexions to their slightly round faces and full cherry lips. While he maintains a small, curly ’fro with a taper fade, his mom’s hair is in knotless braids for the summer.

But Cheryl doesn’t have Jordan’s long eyelashes. His high cheekbones. Sometimes, while staring in the mirror, Jordan wonders if he can find any other parts of himself that aren’t from his mom.

The ones from his bio dad.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Cheryl says. “Everyone’s asking about you.”

He glances around. “Who’s everyone?”

“The family group chat!”

Jordan has left and reentered the family group chat approximately eight times.This year. He can name at least ten more productive things he could be doing with his life than reading through which Carter said the wrong thing in public (usually Denz) or who should take down an inappropriate social media post (surprise, surprise—Denz,again).

Reluctantly, he asks, “What’d I miss?”

Cheryl’s wicked grin makes Jordan’s forehead itch. “We just want to know how your date went last night.”

We, as inher.

Jordan’s mouth opens, then closes. He knew this was coming. Too bad he hadn’t worked out his answer yet.

His mom doesn’t give him any room to lie either. “When’s the second date? She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“Definethe one.”

“I knew it!” Cheryl squeals. “My psychic—which I don’t believe in ’cause I’m a good Christian woman, in case my pastor ever asks—told me you were gonna meet your match this week. Yoursoulmate.”

“Uh-huh,” Jordan monotones.