Chapter 5
I nearly fell flat on my face as I raced through the elegant lobby of Grantham Resort, waving slightly at the pair of women behind the reception desk. Or maybe they were men—I didn’t get a good look.
Finally, I rounded the corner and swept into the conference room to the right of Mari’s husband’s office.
I nearly slipped again on my ill-advised high heels as I gripped the wooden door frame and my eyes took in the scene.
Not a conference room but an office. The familiar hazel-eyed man behind the large marble-covered desk lifted his eyes before they widened slightly.
His hand slammed the cover of his laptop down, and I could almost swear a look of guilt flitted across his face for the briefest moment.
Maybe not guilt … panic? Embarrassment? Something I’d never seen from him before.
I fought to keep my voice steady and my breathing quieter. I was in decent shape, but running wasn’t my forte. I took a slow breath in and out and stood up as straight as I could. “Are you all right, sir?”
Any tiny lingering awkwardness on his face vanished, and he raised his right eyebrow. “Sir?”
I didn’t know why I called him that. I wanted to annoy him, but it was an odd choice. He probably preferred it. Great, the opposite of my intent. “I was born in Tennessee,” I blurted out.
His left eyebrow joined the right, climbing up his forehead. “OK?”
“We use ‘sir’ a lot in the South,” I said, again failing to think or say anything rational. “I mean, when I lived there—”
“Oh? What state did you live in? How long?” His arms were crossed now as he cross-examined me.
“Tennessee. I was … it was a couple years,” I mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear me. “So anyway—”
“A couple of years, as in two? You were already saying ‘sir’—”
“Yes, I was saying ‘sir’ before I was two years old,” I said through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his eyes as I sat in the cushioned leather chair in front of the desk.
But I looked up when a faintly strangled sound met my ears. If I didn’t know better … well, it sounded almost like a laugh. Not quite, but almost. When I scanned Jeff’s face, though, I saw no sign of humor. I shrugged and set my handbag next to me on the wide chair.
When I sat and glanced up at him, he hadn’t moved.
His hands were still flat on the closed laptop, and his usual grim expression was staring back at me.
It was sad that he always looked grumpy because he was actually a good-looking guy.
Objectively. Not that I would ever be into him.
But I supposed some women would.Glancing quickly at his left hand, I noticed his ring finger was bare.
Not surprising—not that I was in any position to judge though.
Before I could open my mouth to ask about the laptop thing, he rose abruptly, briefly tensing his hands before they fell to his side.
“Right, thanks for coming, albeit late. We need to review the latest quotes from the subcontractors.” He paused, pressing his lips together.
“Well, I’ve already reviewed them, but I figured you would want input. ”
“Yeah, it’s called being a partner.” I was so tired of this attitude from him—so beyond tired. “Not like you’d understand,” I muttered while examining the polished hunter-green floor tiles.
When I looked up, he was now standing only a couple feet away, leaning against the front of the desk. “Are you implying I don’t know how a partnership works?”
My eyes must have been golf balls by then. My heart raced as I took in his scent. Wait, what? He never wore cologne.
Or did he?
Maybe I’d never been close enough to notice.
My heart raced as I considered that, my eyes slowly rising to meet his.
And he … he saw me. He watched me as my eyes swept slowly over his surprisingly fine form.
He saw you checking him out. This is rock bottom for you, Roxy.
My face heated and my knuckles whitened as I gripped the sides of the chair. I was about to combust into flames. Flames of awkwardness, of something else I couldn’t define.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a slow breath and then met his eyes. “Never mind,” I said coolly, raising my chin.
He shook his head slightly and sighed as he picked up a water bottle from the other side of his desk. “So, are you ready to get started?”
“Started on …” I tilted my head, looking at him curiously but oddly a bit dazed.
“On work! What is wrong with you?”
I gasped indignantly. “Wow, that is rude, even for you, Jeffrey.”
He exhaled loudly and fought to keep the irritation off his face, only partially succeeding. My eyes followed the direction of his, pointed at some interesting spot on the floor.
At this time during a conversation with virtually any other person, I’d usually try to make amends, keep the peace, and all that. But I was tired of always meekly avoiding conflict, and Jeff didn’t truly intimidate me. He probably should, but he didn’t.
So I stubbornly remained silent as we both studied the floor tiles.
Finally, his voice jarred me out of my incessant thinking. “Fine. Forget I said anything. Can we move on? I’d like to—”
“Yes, I know. You want to get on with the important thing: work.” I smirked, annoyed at his non-apology and the irritable way he’d delivered it.
“Well, yes. This is a work meeting, Roxanne,” he reminded me in a condescending tone.
Oh … well, he had a point. It’s not like Jeff and I were two friends meeting to chat, or two lovers—woah, where did that come from—we were colleagues, and not by choice.
Wait.
Oh my—does he think …
No.
He wouldn’t think I was implying that we were on a date or something, right? Right?
Damage control. Now!
“You do know that most colleagues actually do talk about things other than work, right? Or were you unaware?” I forced a smile. “Are you the exception?”
“I believe in efficiency. Water cooler chat just wastes time.”
I nodded. “Well, I sometimes agree. Small talk sucks. But when you say that, it makes it sound like you value productivity over human beings. Which makes you sound like … well …”
“What do I sound like? Don’t spare my feelings now,” he said dryly.
“Like a jerk,” I blurted out.
The briefest moment of bravery was quickly eclipsed by regret. Dread. Panic.
Was I breaking some rule in employment law by … name-calling? Wow, that sounded more childish than I realized.
“Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have called you that.” My face flamed as I tried to hide behind my long hair, one of my go-to avoidance strategies. It was part of the reason I’d always kept my thick, wavy hair long, at least shoulder length
He looked at me earnestly for what seemed like hours before finally saying softly, “Maybe we were both being jerks, Roxanne. I apologize.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I took this in. He actually apologized for something? That’s never happened—I didn’t think he was capable of it. I picked up my jaw from the floor and bobbed my head up and down jerkily.
“So, this is your office?” I heard myself asking the obvious question.
“Yes. I’ve laid out the files we need to review over there.” He pointed to a large round table I hadn’t noticed. This was quite a decent-sized office, I realized. Almost as big as Mari’s, in fact. It surprised me that he’d be valued enough to have one of the biggest offices here.
“Wait, you have files? I thought we were just reviewing a couple of quotes or contracts. Not entire files …” My voice was uncertain as I sat at one of the black leather chairs circling the table.
He sat in the other chair and scooted closer. I had to restrain myself from moving my chair back.
“Files are good for organizing, Roxanne.”
“Yes, but this looks like … a lot.” I eyed the thick file folders and sighed. “OK, let’s get this over with.”
“OK, this first one is for a contractor right here in Shipsvold. You might have even heard of him—”
“I haven’t,” I said after reading the name in large letters on the file. “But I like the idea of hiring locally.”
He nodded briskly. “Yes, when possible.”
After what seemed like hours, we finally closed the last file. I rubbed my eyes, which had started blurring after reading so much fine print.
“All right, let’s review the notes. Or would you like to wait until tomorrow? You look tired. ”
I bit my lip. I was tired, but the last thing I wanted to do was show any weakness, even a reasonable amount of fatigue. “I’m fine,” I managed with what I hoped was enthusiasm.
He raised an eyebrow and studied me for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention to his notebook. “Well, I think Jonson is an obvious choice for design.”
“It’s not obvious to me. Why should we go with his company?”
“He’s got more experience than the others combined.”
“Maybe,” I said doubtfully, “but Sanders Design has a lot of potential. Jill Sanders has already won some state and national awards, yet her quote was very reasonable.”
Jeff sighed. “I guess we can meet with her too. But I think experience and a long record of success are key, and Jonson is unmatched in that regard.”
“And he’s a man. That’s another plus, right?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
Jeff gave me a side-eye and shook his head. “It has nothing to do with gender. And I think you know that. Are you arguing with me just to argue?”
Do I know that Jeff isn’t a chauvinist? Not really.
I didn’t even know him that well. But I had to admit, he didn’t seem like the type.
He might be a jerk in many ways, but I doubted he was a misogynist too.
Finally, I just shrugged. “No. I want to make sure we’re considering this from different angles. ”
“Fine, we’ll meet with them both. Separately, of course. Do you have any schedule blockers for the rest of this week or next?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it. “Potentially,” I fibbed.
“Would tomorrow or Friday work? Say, mid-morning?” He glanced at me quickly before returning his eyes to his calendar on his phone.