Paradise in Progress

2. Chapter Two

Chapter two

Tristan

“What the hell are we doing slumming it with the commoners?” my friend, Rafe, asks as he sits down across from me.

We’re seated in a black high-top six-seater with matching full-back bar stools in the back corner of the dimly lit bar. Rumors is known for their dimly lit space and hot pink neon lights, where associates from local high rises congregate to bitch about their jobs and the executives running their companies. The name wasn’t just a fluke. It’s the place where all the gossip spreads.

“Little brother wanted to spy on his co-worker,” Alexander—or Xander, as everyone but my parents call him—says as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“I didn’t come to spy on her.”

Rafe turns in his seat and tries to figure out what woman my brother is talking about. No doubt he spots her immediately. Her copper hair stands out amongst the bottle blondes and brunettes. And if that doesn’t give her away, the smattering of freckles across her face will surely pull you in. Kennedy is too good for the hustle and bustle of New York City. It’s not because she’s not strong enough; she’s the most headstrong woman I’ve ever come across. But it’s because her heart is too pure. New York City will chew her up and spit her out before she even realizes it.

And she has named me the bane of her existence, but she couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s nothing I love more than toying with her. Somewhere along the way, our communication went from jabs to a flirty banter filled with all kinds of sexual innuendos. We’re a human resource department’s wet dream with the amount of workplace rules we’ve no doubt broken a time or fifty.

While I love pushing her buttons, I’m waiting for the day when she throws her Midwestern politeness to the side and gives me a piece of her mind.

“Damn, the redhead?” Rafe asks, hunger deepening his voice as he turns back to face me.

I glare at him over the brim of my glass. “Don’t even think about it,” I say before taking a pull of my beer.

“It’s not like you’re going to make a move,” Xander muses and leans back in his seat, as if he’s getting comfortable for a show.

Ignoring them both, I keep my eyes focused on her. Since she’s left the office, Kennedy has relaxed. Her hair still hangs down her back, curls bouncing with every move. But she’s managed to unclasp the first few buttons on her black blouse, allowing the top of her lacy red bra to peek out. She’s stunning and completely off-limits. Especially with my recent move from the architectural team to being named design manager, a steppingstone for me as I work my way up the corporate ladder.

I tried to look away, but just as I was about to, she laughs at something funny her friends say. The sound causes a group of frat boys standing near their table to grow some courage and walk over to them. A polo-wearing guy places his arm around the back of her chair, and she leans closer to Zoe.

“Oh no, man, looks like one of those fraternity douchebags is making a move on your girl,” Rafe chides.

“First of all”—I snap my head toward Rafe—“she’s not my girl. And secondly, you were one of those douchebags at the University of Southern California.”

Xander chuckles from beside me. Like me, Xander stayed in state and chose Cornell instead of going to NYU with me.

As much as she hates me, and as much as I instigate our antics, I could never sit back and watch something bad happen to her. I watch intently as she scans the bar, and that’s when she finally sees me. Our gazes lock as her green eyes latch onto mine, and I watch her eyebrow lift with curiosity. Then something that looks a lot like relief flashes briefly across her features. I flash her a wink. Her cheeks pinken before her signature scowl she reserves only for me returns. It’s almost as if she remembered who she was playing a staring contest with. She turns her attention back to the guy who has moved even closer to her. If I hadn’t spent the last four or so years learning her tics, I would have missed the blush completely.

Standing from my chair, my feet carry me to her without a second thought. Groups of people scurry out of my way as my gaze lasers in on the girl who will turn me gray before I’m thirty.

“Firecracker. Fancy seeing you here.” My words are husky as I clear my throat while never breaking eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” Kennedy looks up, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she scowls up at me. The guy standing next to her puffs out his chest. Ha, as if this is going to be a battle .

“Please,” I scoff. “Even I deserve a break from the office. Spending all my time outdoing you is getting exhausting.”

Her jaw drops, and I can imagine the steam building in that pretty head of hers, waiting to combust. “Outdoing me?”

“Yeah, outdoing you. It doesn’t even seem to be a competition anymore with you constantly playing catch up.”

Zoe shakes her head, hiding a smile behind her drink and attempting to look anywhere but at us during this interaction. She’s been witness to our antics since Kennedy started with our company a month ago.

It was a shock to see Kennedy sitting in the conference room meeting with HR when I walked down the hall. As discreetly as I could, I paused to observe her for a few brief seconds. Kennedy was poised and flawless. Confidence oozed from her as she held her head high, shoulders back in the grueling interviews with the hiring committees.

After college, I heard she found a job at a small firm in Chelsea, and I assumed we’d never see each other again.

Fate’s a funny one.

Another girl is sitting with them tonight, and based on the pictures Kennedy has decorating her cubicle, I think I’m safe to assume she’s the roommate.

“Hey, man, the girls are with us,” one of the polo wearing guys complains to interrupt our banter.

“Nah, I think they’re here on their own,” I retort, knowing it’s the age where women don’t need to be claimed by men. “But if you’d ladies like any company, we’ve got a table in the corner.”

Zoe and the roommate—I think her name is Laura or Lana, or something like that—turn in the direction I’m pointing as Xander gestures to the girls with his glass. My attention slides to Kennedy, who’s staring at me, eyes narrowed and her perfectly manicured eyebrows pinched. She’s no doubt wondering about my motives.

“We’d love to join,” Lana says, jumping from her chair.

“Lana,” Kennedy hisses, eyes widening at her friend as she flicks her eyes toward me. No doubt, she’s scolding her friend. Both girls continue having a silent conversation as their looks bounce all around the table, implying which person they are talking about.

Zoe stands from her seat and, with a smile, heads toward the table. “I guess she’s spoken for the both of us,” Lana says.

Moving to the side, I step in front of the frat boy who isn’t budging to let Kennedy out of her seat.

“Listen, asshole, I don’t know who you think you are—”

“You’re right,” I cut him off. “You have no idea who I am, which means you should move and let this pretty woman out of her seat and go back to minding your own business.”

Kennedy slides from her seat, grabbing her purse and smoothing down her skirt. The guy's eyes land down her shirt and my blood boils.

“Fuck you, man. You have no idea who my dad is.”

“And I don’t care.” I take a step closer to the prick, but soft fingers curl against my hand, causing my head to whip to the side.

“He’s not worth it,” Kennedy whispers. Using the hand not clutched in mine, she flips her long locks off her shoulder in a sexy move that causes her tendrils to whip the other guy in the face. She pulls me away, and I wait until she’s in front of me before I turn and follow her.

The few spectators who have gathered around us move to the side, and as quickly as she grabs my hand, she drops it. Her shoulders steel, and she storms ahead of me. When she reaches the table, she takes the empty seat next to Rafe, the one directly in front of me.

Sitting down, I flag down the waitress as she’s passing by.

“What can I get you guys?” she asks, scanning the table.

Rafe and Xander both order another whiskey, while Zoe and Lana order margaritas. I order another bottle of domestic beer and, with much surprise, Kennedy orders the same. “We’ll also take a round of green tea shots.”

When the waitress leaves, I stare at Kennedy. I’m waiting for her to burst the tense bubble we have somehow found ourselves in.

“How are you liking Nelson?” Xander asks Kennedy. He’s been privy to our squabbles a time or two. The first time he heard us bicker, he prepared a long conversation between me and him about how unprofessional it was. I reassured him that it was just a part of our dynamic. Now he plays mediator when he thinks it’s going to take a turn for the worse. He could always read a room and find a way to bypass the swirling tension. It’s why he’s going to make an excellent CEO when Dear Old Dad decides to step down.

“Oh, what Nelson are you referring to?” She pauses, head tilted. “Nelson Signature is fantastic, but this Nelson,” she says, hiking her thumb in my direction. “Well, this Nelson is kind of an ass.”

Rafe chokes around his sip of whiskey as he breaks out in a laugh. “Damn, she got you.”

“She’s been busting my balls for years.”

“Oh, please, Golden Boy. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

I guffaw. “Golden Boy? That’s a new one for you. How long have you been waiting to call me that?”

“Too long,” she admits, and I smirk .

Our drinks arrive with the shots Kennedy ordered. Reaching our shot glasses in the center of the table, we clink them before downing the whiskey, peach schnapps, and sweet and sour concoction. I’m not even going to lie; that was a pretty damn good shot. I’m actually impressed with her choice of drinks. I guess you can take the girl out of the small town, but not the small town out of the girl.

“I’ve got a little wager for you,” she muses, taking a long pull of her beer.

“What’s that?”

“The last one to finish their beer buys the next round?” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

Little does she know, I spent most of college at the bars. If I wasn't in class, the guys and I were at a party. I might look like a prep boy, but pretty boys can drink her tiny ass under the table.

“You’re on.” I reach my hand across the table. Her delicate hand slides right in mine, and I fight the shock that zaps me as our skin meets. She goes to pull away, but I hold her tighter. “Be prepared to lose again…Firecracker.”

With a huff, she rips her hand from my grip, and I instantly miss the connection. “Don’t choke on your words, Golden Boy, especially when you’re buying the next round.”

“I’m not taking care of you tonight,” Xander groans from beside me.

I shoot him a grin. “Nah, there’s no way I’m losing to her. Never have before, why start now?”

Two hours and a deep buzz later, the four of us are making our way out of the bar. One beer chug turned into a night of friendly competition. The rest of the table joined in, and I have to say that, even though I hate going to Rumors, it turned into a fun night. Zoe left an hour ago when her husband stopped in with some friends, while Rafe decided to stay back and enjoy some more drinks.

Kennedy will have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, but she impressed me. For once, she let her guard down and laughed in my company. She still felt the need to compete against me, but it was done in jest rather than hatred.

“Let us drive you home.” With my arm wrapped around her shoulders, I guide her out of the packed bar and onto the street. Lana and Kennedy live in Brooklyn, which isn’t on my way home, but I’d feel more comfortable having my driver take them than a stranger in a cab. Especially when we’ve consumed as much alcohol as we did tonight.

She stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, and I’m quick to steady her. Her head whips around, mouth hanging open, breaths uneven from the near fall. “You called me pretty tonight.”

Emerald eyes render me speechless for a moment. Of course, I called her pretty. Does she not see how gorgeous she is? “I don’t hate you, Kennedy.”

“No, you just steal every opportunity that I work my ass off for out from underneath me. No one can say no to their precious Tristan Nelson.” Her comment freezes me, and she slips from my grasp. I can only watch as she climbs into a waiting cab with Lana, realizing we’re back to this rivalry she created during our sophomore year of college.

What did she mean by that? I haven’t stolen anything from her.