your job skills and value. And I kept Paulita on. I never fired her. Not even when she was so huge she couldn’t make a bed right.”
True enough. But at the time, she hadn’t known how big Wyatt’s heart was. Sure, he boiled people down to a number, but then he let his heart sway him away from the cold black and white.
“I know that now. But back then, I was getting a degree in anthropology. The only way I could score lower was if I didn’t graduate.” She glanced up at him. “My boyfriend—the history major—thought you were a major ass, by the way.”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
She could see he still didn’t truly understand what had happened. “I dumped him because you were right. Your entire spreadsheet boiled down to two things: hard work and no excuses. Commitment, work hours, goal setting—that was the hard part. College degree, job skills—that was the no-excuses part. You either had the skills or you didn’t. The why didn’t matter. Yes or no. Point or no point.”
“Geez,” he breathed. “I was just trying to make sure you graduated from college.”
“I did. And my brother did. The other went military, but that’s another story,” she said, studying his frowning expression. “You don’t get it. Up until then, I was thinking of the world as my playground. I studied what I wanted when I wanted.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what college is for.”
“But I’d never seen myself as a marketable commodity. And it’s a valuable perspective, one that I needed to see. Otherwise, I might have graduated with an anthropology degree and ended up working at McDonald’s.”
“You always had more drive than that. You wouldn’t have been in fast food for long.”
She smiled, extraordinarily pleased that he knew that about her. “You gave me a wake-up call that I needed. That my brothers needed. That my mother still needs.”
“She may be a little old for some lessons.”
“But not to understand my value. That I’m trying to make a different future for myself other than wife and mother. “ She pulled out her iPad and brought up a file. “I still have your ERE. The newest version, by the way, not the one from three years ago.”
He looked at it, his eyebrows rising. “My goodness, look at your value. Clearly you’re underpaid and undervalued.”
“Damn straight. Which is why my boss just gave me a twenty-five percent raise.”
“Twenty.”
“You sure?”
He flashed her smile. “I’m disorganized, not senile.”
She shrugged. “Worth a shot.” She reached for her pad, but he refused to give it up. He was studying it closer.
“Do you have a goals list too?”
She nodded and shifted the screen to the appropriate file. That had been another one of his ideas—done by example rather than specific suggestion. Taped to his office wall was a list of five business goals to accomplish within a year, five years, and ten. He was making steady progress on all three.
He looked at it and blew out a low whistle. “You want an MBA and…a hotel chain?” He looked up. “Planning to become my competition?”
“If only,” she joked. “No, I’m not thinking ownership. Just executive in a mega corp. Like Hilton or Marriott. You’re smaller and more innovative. There’s room for us both in the millionaire club.”
He smiled as he swiped the screen, moving through her different lists. “What’s this?”
She glanced down. It was her personal goals list. Things she wanted in her life beyond her career. Something that had never been on his wall. It included things like marriage, two kids, and a vacation in Australia. “I’ve always wanted to go to Australia,” she said, ducking the bigger items.
“Have a husband in mind?” he asked. His words sounded casual, but a glance at him showed an underlying tension in his body. Or maybe that was her with the sudden cramp in her belly. After all, she’d seen him without his shirt just this morning. And right
True enough. But at the time, she hadn’t known how big Wyatt’s heart was. Sure, he boiled people down to a number, but then he let his heart sway him away from the cold black and white.
“I know that now. But back then, I was getting a degree in anthropology. The only way I could score lower was if I didn’t graduate.” She glanced up at him. “My boyfriend—the history major—thought you were a major ass, by the way.”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
She could see he still didn’t truly understand what had happened. “I dumped him because you were right. Your entire spreadsheet boiled down to two things: hard work and no excuses. Commitment, work hours, goal setting—that was the hard part. College degree, job skills—that was the no-excuses part. You either had the skills or you didn’t. The why didn’t matter. Yes or no. Point or no point.”
“Geez,” he breathed. “I was just trying to make sure you graduated from college.”
“I did. And my brother did. The other went military, but that’s another story,” she said, studying his frowning expression. “You don’t get it. Up until then, I was thinking of the world as my playground. I studied what I wanted when I wanted.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what college is for.”
“But I’d never seen myself as a marketable commodity. And it’s a valuable perspective, one that I needed to see. Otherwise, I might have graduated with an anthropology degree and ended up working at McDonald’s.”
“You always had more drive than that. You wouldn’t have been in fast food for long.”
She smiled, extraordinarily pleased that he knew that about her. “You gave me a wake-up call that I needed. That my brothers needed. That my mother still needs.”
“She may be a little old for some lessons.”
“But not to understand my value. That I’m trying to make a different future for myself other than wife and mother. “ She pulled out her iPad and brought up a file. “I still have your ERE. The newest version, by the way, not the one from three years ago.”
He looked at it, his eyebrows rising. “My goodness, look at your value. Clearly you’re underpaid and undervalued.”
“Damn straight. Which is why my boss just gave me a twenty-five percent raise.”
“Twenty.”
“You sure?”
He flashed her smile. “I’m disorganized, not senile.”
She shrugged. “Worth a shot.” She reached for her pad, but he refused to give it up. He was studying it closer.
“Do you have a goals list too?”
She nodded and shifted the screen to the appropriate file. That had been another one of his ideas—done by example rather than specific suggestion. Taped to his office wall was a list of five business goals to accomplish within a year, five years, and ten. He was making steady progress on all three.
He looked at it and blew out a low whistle. “You want an MBA and…a hotel chain?” He looked up. “Planning to become my competition?”
“If only,” she joked. “No, I’m not thinking ownership. Just executive in a mega corp. Like Hilton or Marriott. You’re smaller and more innovative. There’s room for us both in the millionaire club.”
He smiled as he swiped the screen, moving through her different lists. “What’s this?”
She glanced down. It was her personal goals list. Things she wanted in her life beyond her career. Something that had never been on his wall. It included things like marriage, two kids, and a vacation in Australia. “I’ve always wanted to go to Australia,” she said, ducking the bigger items.
“Have a husband in mind?” he asked. His words sounded casual, but a glance at him showed an underlying tension in his body. Or maybe that was her with the sudden cramp in her belly. After all, she’d seen him without his shirt just this morning. And right
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