One #4
He was still looking at me weird, but many people did. I was used to that.
“Mr. Fisher?”
“Is it really so horrible now?” he asked, flopping down onto one of his kitchen chairs. It creaked under his weight.
I looked at him and pointed. “That’ll hafta go too.”
“Christ,” he muttered.
I had to laugh.
His scowl deepened. “So, what are you gonna do?” he asked me, his voice pained.
“Not me. Like I told you, the interior design team. That’s a whole separate entity.”
He looked up at me, and I wasn’t sure what I saw there.
“Mr. Fisher, I swear to God you don’t have to see me again until your big night.”
“Mr. Harcourt, you—”
“Okay,” I announced, “well, I gotta go because I’m starving, but another team will be in touch to go over timelines with you and invitations and the list of who you want and who you don’t.” I offered him my hand.
He looked dazed, but he took my hand, and we shook. I moved away from him, walking over to Michelle.
“I remember now,” she said, grinning at me. “You maul people into submission.”
“That’s right.” I winked at her, grabbing her hand and tugging her after me.
“Jory,” she said, laughing, “I have to say goodbye to the man.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, letting her go. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I’ll go get a table.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I don’t know where I’m going.”
I squinted at her. “We’re getting French toast, of course.”
“How was I supposed to know that? And please tell me where we’re going.”
I was used to traveling with Dylan. My best friend never missed a beat of what was going on in my head. I had to stop expecting it of others.
I gave Michelle the name of the place and told her where it was.
“Okay,” she said, smiling at me, the adoration there in her eyes.
She liked me—she couldn’t help it. I drove her nuts, but still … she was fond of me.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you bringin’ the whole team?”
“No, doll, it’s just you and me.”
“Good,” I said, even though I liked the rest of the team. I just wasn’t up to making conversation with the whole group.
Halfway to the door, I turned around. “Everything’s gonna be all right, Mr. Fisher,” I assured him.
“Michelle will plan the gala with you, Wade Fujihara will be here on Monday morning to go over the plans for renovating your space, and then someone else will be by with photos of the women interested in becoming your missus.”
He just stared at me, mouth open.
“Maybe if you play your cards right, then you can get your date to stay over the night of the party ’cause you really look like you need to get—”
“Jory!”
“What?”
Her expression was priceless.
“I thought clients wanted to be talked to like regular people?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Jory!”
Crap.
“Go to the restaurant already. I’ll be there right behind you.”
She wanted me out. I didn’t need to be told twice.
I was scaling the front steps back down to the sidewalk when my name was called. Turning, I glanced back up to the front door to find Hayes Fisher standing there, staring down at me.
“Yeah?” I called out.
He shook his head. “What kind of manners are those, not even offering your client lunch?”
“You mean brunch,” I corrected him.
“You’re kind of an ass, Mr. Har— Jory.”
“Kind of?” I teased him.
“Why don’t we all have brunch with you?”
“Why?” I asked, trying not to sound pained, going back up the stairs I’d just come down.
“Why not?” he asked as I stepped in front of him.
That kind of logic always worked on me.
“Okay, sure,” I said with a shrug.
“Hayes?”
We both turned to look at the scary-looking woman who had stepped out onto the porch beside him. First, I had no idea how I’d missed her in the house. Where had she been hiding? In a closet? And second, I had never seen a scowl quite that dark—except for Sam’s.
“This is my assistant, Lisa O’Toole, who Mrs. Cooper already met,” he said, smirking at me. “Lisa, this is Jory Harcourt.”
Her brows furrowed. I widened my eyes and gave her my big smile, the one that made my brother—even when he was furious with me—stop yelling and listen.
For a second, I thought maybe she was going to hold on to the whole prison-guard vibe she had going and not thaw, but then, suddenly, her eyes softened, and she melted.
“It’s a pleasure,” she sighed, offering me her hand.
“And you.” I lowered my voice, making it deep and seductive as I took her hand and then covered it with my other.
“Oh,” Michelle breathed out as she, too, joined us.
Mr. Fisher’s mouth moved like he was going to speak, but instead, he ended up just staring at me. I arched an eyebrow at him.
“So, are we going?”
“Yeah, um … Lisa cleared my schedule, so I thought I would invite myself along to lunch—er, brunch. I wanted to talk more to Mrs. Cooper, and we’re all hungry.”
“Michelle,” she corrected him.
“Michelle,” he repeated.
“Sure,” I agreed, drawing Lisa forward, tucking her hand under my arm. “Your assistant should come too,” I said, looking down into the woman’s big blue eyes. “Us support staff hafta stick together.”
She nodded, taking hold of my arm as we started down the front steps. I heard Michelle groan behind me.