1. Sutton #3
“Sutton,” he says, “you don’t have to talk about this.”
I can tell Easton’s trying to let me off the hook, but it’s too late. The thread is loose, and I can’t pull it back even if I tried.
I open my phone and read the email aloud.
“Dear Miss Bradley, I’m sorry, but we’ve decided to go with another designer for the Suncrest Valley Police Station remodel.
We truly loved your proposal and know what an impact you have on our town.
However, we need someone with more interior design experience to tackle such a large project.
Good luck with your future endeavors. Sincerely, Police Chief Rhodes. ”
I slide my phone across the counter to Easton and lay my shame out for this man I don’t know. I’m shocked when he picks up my phone and reads over the email again.
“Do you not have much design experience?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I’m a realtor. I’m trying to break into interior design.” I twirl my empty glass on its base edge. “Technically, I don’t have any professional experience, but I have helped my mom remodel and redecorate her whole house.”
Easton nods and slides my phone back to me.
“I knew this job was a long shot. But I really wanted it, you know?”
“Do you not want to do realty anymore?”
“I . . .” I look over my shoulder to where Hunter sits. He’s eating fries and chatting with his coworker. Why doesn’t he look as miserable as I am? I take in his shoulders and jawline. Here the butterflies go again.
“Sutton?”
“Can I be honest with you, Easton?”
“Of course.”
“You weren’t wrong earlier when you said I was a people pleaser.
Always have been and probably always will be.
I’ve always done what people expected of me, but the truth is, I’ve never known what I expected out of myself.
Have you ever felt that way? Like you don’t know what you want to do with your life, but you know you want to do something? ”
“I can relate to that,” he says. “It’s why I was late to the whole college thing. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up and how to achieve that goal.”
“Well, I’m still trying to figure it out.
I just kind of fell into realty with my dad and I’m good at it.
And I love it, but after helping my mom these last few years, I have found that I enjoy interior design too.
So, I started looking into pursuing that.
Maybe I could do both, realty and interior design, you know?
Sell people fixers and then make them beautiful again.
I heard the city was accepting design proposals for the new station, and I thought why not. I know it was a crazy idea.”
“It wasn’t a crazy idea, Sutton.” His laugh catches me off guard. “I mean applying for the police station job, maybe. But doing realty and interior design? Not crazy.”
“Oh yes, your laughter is truly comforting.” I roll my eyes.
“Want to know what I do for a living?”
I nod.
“General contracting.”
I scoff. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” He swallows down the last of his drink. The ice cubes clink against the glass as he sets it down. “I work with home builders and interior designers every day building new homes and remodeling existing ones. If you want to do both, it’s possible.”
“Yeah, but everyone keeps saying I need experience. How the hell do I get experience if no one is willing to hire me to get experience because I have no experience?”
His shoulders bounce again in laughter. His laugh makes me laugh, and soon neither one of us can stop. I’m so caught up in the lightness in my chest that I don’t feel it when he steps up behind me.
“Hey, Sutton.”
Hunter.
“Oh, hi,” I say nonchalantly. “Didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”
“Yeah, I lost a bet with Rachel, so I owe her dinner,” he says. “If I would’ve known you were here, I would’ve gotten food for you too and had you join us.”
“I’m good. Just ordered.”
“Who’s this?” Hunter braces his hand on the back of my barstool and turns to face Easton. “Easton Rhodes? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hey, Hunter.” Easton’s barstool screeches along the floor, and Easton pulls Hunter into one of those bro hugs. “It’s been a long time.”
“It really has, man. What brings you back to town?”
Hunter lets go of Easton and places his hand at the base of my neck. The rough pads of his fingers drag across my skin, and my stomach tumbles into a happy oblivion.
Easton looks at Hunter’s hand, and his eyebrow lifts. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the question: And you’re telling me you’re not Hunter’s Sutton?
“Well,” Easton says, “Dad wanted me to lead the remodel project at the police station.”
The words push through the tequila haze slowly . . . then all at once.
Easton Rhodes. As in Chief Rhodes.
Because of course I’m sitting here drunk and oversharing with the chief’s son. The same chief who just rejected my proposal based on, most likely, his son’s advice not to hire me. And the same chief who is Hunter’s boss.
As if this night could get any worse.
“Hey, Joe,” I call out. “I’m going to need that next round.”