Chapter 6 Olena #2
I assume he must have a usual designer he prefers to deal with but is now stuck working with me instead.
Back in Seattle, I had worked closely with several landscaping companies, but the truth is, I’m out of my comfort zone here in Lennox.
Rebuilding my professional contacts from scratch isn’t going to be easy, so having this piece of the puzzle already decided is kind of a relief.
“I’m up for it,” Jude offers with a professional smile to Charles, then directs his attention to me, waiting for my response cautiously.
I silently remind myself I need this job and will just have to deal with the awkward mess I’ve made between me and Jude. “Absolutely.” I nod with a brave face, looking quickly away from Jude. I turn to Charles. “Let’s do it.”
“Wonderful!” Charles shakes hands with each of us then mentions he needs to go tell Carol the good news.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it; you probably have a lot to discuss.
Thanks again for coming. I have a good feeling about you both,” he says with a smile.
“I look forward to seeing your design plans, Olena.”
I smile gratefully and promise he’ll have them before the end of next week.
He excuses himself and ambles back to the house where a tall brick chimney works a lazy stream of smoke up to mingle with the clouds. I take a moment to look at the old home once more. Taking it in properly, I can see it must have been beautiful in its prime.
Jude and I drift over to our vehicles in awkward silence.
He quickly busies himself writing a few more notes, and I follow his lead, both of us conspicuously avoiding eye contact.
Charles’ magnanimous presence now gone, we are left to face each other alone for the first time since my explosive roadside performance.
I grimace at the memory again and try to think of words that might smooth the situation over.
I close my notebook. “Listen, I’m so sorry about earlier—” I start.
Jude raises his head from whatever he was writing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He places his pencil behind his ear and folds his arms across his broad chest, fixing his green eyes on me patiently. He was waiting for this.
“You were right. I totally misread the situation and I overreacted,” I continue, hating my past self for being such a dramatic, interrupting jackass.
What a great first impression that was, I snark inwardly.
I forge ahead, trying to repair it. “I was running late already and feeling the stress of this new project,” I explain, gesturing vaguely around us, “and then I saw you following me, and the lights flashing threw me off. I think I was just surprised. And they were extremely bright. Did you know they are, like, exceptionally bright headlights? Practically blinding… Anyway, I couldn’t figure out what you wanted, and I thought you wanted to pass me, and I was thinking why doesn’t this guy just pass me already… ”
Good Lord, Olena, are you still talking? Why isn’t he saying anything? Oh, God, please say something to shut me up.
He says nothing.
The words keep tumbling out. “Oh, and I think my blood sugar must be low; I didn’t eat any breakfast this morning. So that’s part of why I think I was a little extra on edge, you know?”
Jude is still just staring at me, not speaking. His calmness and silence are enviable. He’s giving me nothing.
Against my better judgment, the words keep coming. “So, anyway, again, I really apologize, and I hope we can start over from the beginning, because I’m not usually that irrational, and I don’t make a habit of swearing at men I’ve just met—”
“Are you done?” he asks, cutting me off.
Oh, thank God.
“I… Yes. Sorry. Yes.” I shake my head and press my lips together, trying to physically stop the flow of my pathetic monologue.
He turns away from me and opens the door to his truck.
I instantly deflate; he doesn’t even want to speak to me any more than necessary.
I can’t blame him, not after how I treated him when he was only trying to help me out.
My gaze drops to my feet and I send a wish to the universe for the magical ability to transport myself away from here, into my bedroom and under my covers, where I could safely shame-spiral in private.
“Heads up.” I hear him say.
I snap my head up just in time to see the small object whizzing through the air toward me, which I manage to snag awkwardly with a free hand before it hits me in the face. I drop my gaze and turn it over in my confusion, the plastic wrapper crinkling in my hand. It’s a protein bar.
“What? Why?” I manage quietly as I look up at Jude in utter bewilderment.
“You said you hadn’t eaten breakfast, right?” He shuts the door and leans with his back against the side of his truck, crossing his arms again as he looks at me with an eyebrow raised.
I furrow my brows, then relax them, letting out a breath. “Yes, but—”
“But what? You’re hungry and you need to eat. So eat.” He gives me a small smile.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. I don’t understand what his game is. I’ve been awful to him, blathered on endlessly… and now he’s feeding me?
He smiles ruefully and looks up at the trees, then back at me. “That’s a weird way of saying thank you.” He tilts his head quizzically as he smiles at me. He’s definitely enjoying this.
I close my eyes. “Of course, thank you. I’m so sorry.” Could this be more humiliating? I meet his gaze again. “I should go.” I need to get the hell out of here before I embarrass myself any further. Unlocking the Jetta, I throw my belongings, protein bar included, onto the passenger seat.
“Wait,” he says.
I slowly turn around to face him, bracing for what he’ll say next.
“I’m sorry too.”
I furrow my brow, feeling thrown off.
“For following so close earlier. You were right. It was a bit dangerous.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “That was my bad.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah.” I shrug, trying to brush it off. I’d rather just forget about everything that happened on the road earlier.
He lifts his chin. “What was that book you were holding onto earlier?”
“What book?” I look at him in confusion.
“The one you held a death grip on but never opened. You had that thing with you the whole time we walked around the place. What is it?”
“Oh, my portfolio?” I turn to see the book on the seat of the car behind me and briefly note that it’s avoided landing directly on top of my sopping wet jacket. Small mercies. Relieved, I turn back to Jude.
“Lemme have a look.” He reaches out a hand expectantly, like a teacher who’s caught his students passing notes in class.
“Oh, no, you don’t need to,” I start, smiling nervously. “I just thought Charles might want to look through the photos but he didn’t ask to. It’s fine.” I’m hoping he’ll drop the subject.
He doesn’t. “Come on, Olena,” he says, holding my gaze.
The sound of my name on his lips makes my breath hitch. I quickly shake it off and hope he hasn’t noticed.
“We’re going to be working together here. I wanna see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” He raises his eyebrows, hand still outstretched.
I reluctantly turn around and open the passenger door to retrieve the book, feeling Jude’s eyes locked on my movements. Turning back to him, I cautiously hand it over.
His silence as he flips through the before-and-after photos of my past projects unnerves me, and I find myself needing to fill the air yet again with my infernal talking.
“I was surprised Charles didn’t ask to see it, to be honest; I didn’t realize he’d already made up his mind about hiring me,” I offer.
He gives a soft grunt in response, focusing fully on the photos.
The truth is, I have no idea what makes Charles so sure I can do this project; his blind trust makes me uncomfortable.
Why did he choose me instead of someone else?
Why didn’t he ask Jude to recommend whatever designer he normally works with?
Maybe he’s just doing Wyatt a favor by hiring me.
But, then again, this property is massive and the work will be long.
And expensive. Charles seems wiser than that.
Hiring just anybody for a job this big would be a huge risk.
Jude’s expression is unreadable as he looks through my work.
I feel vulnerable with my creative choices under his scrutinizing gaze. I find myself hoping he’s pleased with what he sees.
As he peruses my portfolio, I look around me at the trees and out at the cliff-side vista, absentmindedly twisting the ends of my hair between my fingers. I’m not sure what else to say or do with myself as he takes his time judging my work. Judging me.
Please hurry up, I plead silently.
“Nice work.” He tosses the casual comment my way with a blank expression and closes the book, holding it out to me. I take my portfolio, hugging it protectively against my chest.
“Oh, thanks,” I say with uncertainty.
Nice work? That’s it? I’m not sure what I was expecting. Not for the first time today, I can’t figure this man out.
“Listen, I’ve gotta run,” he adds, turning again to his truck, pulling open the door and climbing in.
He rummages around for something beside him, then looks at me through the open window.
“Here,” he reaches a hand toward me, proffering his business card.
“I guess we’ll need a way to be in touch with each other. ”
I hesitate a beat before tentatively reaching up to take the card. “Right. Thanks,” I reply, suddenly self-conscious. He’s rushing out of here like he can’t wait to put some distance between us.
“Great. See you soon.” He throws me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Then, before I can respond, he quickly starts the truck and pulls off down the treed driveway, disappearing around the bend.
I stand there another moment, staring after him with my mouth hanging slightly open, until I hear his truck’s engine roar onto the roadway.
Stunned and confused by Jude’s abrupt departure, I climb into the driver’s seat and let out a long breath. I drop the business card into the cup holder next to my scribbled paper directions.
Frowning, I open the damned protein bar.