Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Dara
“Where are you going looking so hot?” Lola, a server at Hillary’s House that I met two years ago when I started coming to the restaurant, says as she walks across the parking lot. “You should wear blue more often. Totally cute on you.”
I smooth a hand over my blouse. “Thanks. I’m trying to pull off a business but more casual with a slice of pretty on the side.” I smile. “How’d I do with those parameters?”
She laughs. “Nailed it.”
I laugh too. “Well, good, because I’m about to meet a very sinfully attractive architect and I don’t want to look too serious or too nonchalant.”
“I heard sinfully attractive. Do tell.”
Lola stops in front of me, a to-go cup dangling at her side. A breeze picks up, sending her hair flying and the edge of my eggshell-colored blouse fluttering in the air.
“I don’t have a lot to tell,” I say. “I’m working with him on a house that my grandfather thinks will solve all of my misfortunes in life.”
Lola frowns.
“Obviously, that’s not going to happen but I’m not mad about working with Wade Mason for a while to prove it.” I watch Lola’s face transform into a knowing smirk. “What?”
“Wade Mason, you say?” she asks.
“Yeah. And …”
Her shoulders sag as she pretends that her knees are wobbling.
“I can confirm with every ounce of estrogen in my body that Wade Mason is, in fact, inside. He’s sitting in the back right corner wearing black pants, a denim button-up with a gray Polo sweater over it.
The sun is shining on his face—making that dimpled chin look bitable. ”
My laughter catches the attention of the older couple making their way to their car.
“I don’t know him—not in a friendly or Biblical way, sadly,” Lola says. “But he’s at some of the events we cater. I’ve watched him from afar many nights as he sips his cognac or handles a cigar in a way that makes me all hot and bothered.”
I giggle. “Like you are now?”
She smacks my shoulder, blushing.
“I’m not judging you,” I promise. “I was close to telling Granddad that I didn’t want to design a house at all. I took a chance last minute and showed up for the appointment and, voila—Wade Mason. So, here I am.”
“Here I’d be too.” She walks backward. “You better get in there and I better get home and wash off the olive juice I just practically bathed in.”
“Have fun with that.”
She grins. “I think you’re about to have a hell of a lot more fun than me.”
We wave goodbye and go our separate ways. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I head for the building. Chimes ring when I pull the door open and step inside.
Scents of cinnamon and coffee envelop me as I stand just inside the doorway and scan the room. It takes half a second to locate Wade. He’s right where Lola said he’d be.
Damn.
The first thing I notice is something Lola forgot to mention—he’s wearing his uber-sexy, nearly pornographic black-rimmed glasses.
My feet falter as I take him in. Why is that so hot?
Wade is pouring over a stack of papers in his hands. A cup of coffee and a glass of ice water sit in front of him. Just as I approach, he looks up.
My heart skips a beat as a look of surprise flashes across his eyes. Then just as quickly, a studiousness takes its place.
“Hi,” I say, sitting before he can get to his feet. This isn’t a date. I don’t know if he would try to pull my chair out for me or what, but it would be awkward either way. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
He drags his glasses to the tip of his nose and looks over the top of them. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or bored.
“That’s it?” he asks, catching me off guard.
I sit my purse on the chair next to me. “That’s it? I don’t know what you mean.”
He takes his glasses off and sets them next to his phone. A slight, barely there smile graces his lips. “I just expected something a little … more when you arrived. You never come quietly.”
“Interesting observation so early in our relationship.”
His lips twist together. His eyes narrow. A smile or a smirk or a frown—what’s to come? I don’t know. But the anticipation that I think he’s intentionally building has me shifting in my seat.
I try to play it cool by brushing a strand of hair away from my face when, in reality, a bolt of adrenaline makes it almost impossible to sit still. I lift a brow and grin.
“I’d hate to disappoint,” I say, even though I know I’m potentially playing with fire. “If you’d like me to reach over and give you a big hug, I’d be more than happy to.”
He fights against his smile growing wider.
It’s a challenge I accept.
“But I am not, under any circumstances, jumping into your arms or humping your leg,” I tease. “I have standards.”
“Let’s be glad for that.” He clears his throat, the hint of levity in his eyes now gone. “I was about to leave. I thought you’d forgotten.”
“Wade. I was ten minutes late. Relax.”
He scoffs and picks up his papers again. “I’m sorry. How much time does someone wait for another person in your world?”
“Depends on who it is and what’s going on.” I pause to order a glass of water and to take a menu from the server. “How long does someone take in your world?”
“No more than ten. And ten warrants a call.”
I wrinkle my nose and peruse the offerings. “On another note, are we eating or just designing?”
“That would depend on, I suppose, if you’re hungry.”
I angle the menu to my chest so I can look at him unencumbered. “I’m always hungry, Mr. Mason.”
He wants to make a face. I can tell. But for reasons unbeknownst to me, he refrains.
Frustrating man.
“Do you ever just, like, I don’t know—breathe?” I ask. “Go with the flow? Not run your life in ten-minute intervals?”
He stares at me for a long few seconds without blinking. Then he looks down at his menu. “No.”
I roll my eyes. I’m about to make a comment when Wade’s phone goes off.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I quirk a brow. “I think someone needs you.”
He discards the menu with a huff and then snatches up the device. After a quick glance and an even quicker reply, he shuts off the ringer.
The aggravation on his face verges on being adorable. His displeasure should not give me so much amusement, but it does. It’s too much of a juxtaposition of inherent sexiness and indignant petulance to handle.
I set my menu down too. Lacing my fingers together, I rest my chin in them. “Was that someone warning you of a ten-minute delay?”
“No,” Wade says without looking up.
“That’s good, I guess.” I poke a little further just to get a rise out of him. “You know, if you made Eliza a little less nervous, she might remember to text everything in one long stream rather than sending you four hundred one-sentence messages.”
He raises his eyes to meet mine. “First, Eliza is new. She’ll settle in. And, two, that was my mother letting us know that my sister-in-law is not having her baby today.” He pauses, his jaw flexing. “There. Does that make you happy?”
I sit back and hold my hands up. “I didn’t ask.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I did not. I just made some assumptions. But,” I say, leaning forward, “you’re going to be an uncle. That’s exciting!”
His face doesn’t change. It stays mostly blank.
“Come on,” I goad him. “You have to be excited.”
“I can barely contain myself.”
He puts his glasses back on as the server returns. We make our orders—chicken fingers for me and a chicken sandwich for Wade.
As soon as the server leaves, he gets down to business.
“I have a form I’d like to go over with you.
I’m having Eliza email you a copy—provided we have your email address.
You can email the office with any questions you are unsure about today or any questions you want to think about,” he says, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “Here is a hard copy.”
“Okay.”
He clears his throat. “My first question is regarding where this house will be built. We don’t have to know, but if you do or if you have a solid idea, it’s helpful to take that into account.”
I squirm in my seat. Despite knowing this is exactly what we would be talking about today, I’m unprepared.
All of a sudden, everything feels so real.
I focus on the paper Wade gave me. The words blur together as my mind chooses this moment to solidify the fact that I’m doing this. Alone. I have no one to give me guidance. Worst of all, I don’t even know if I want to be doing it at all.
“Dara?”
“Sorry.” I look up and sigh. “There is a place that my grandfather mentioned building it, but I’m not totally sure.”
Wade’s forehead mars. “I’m assuming you have a say in it.”
“Of course.”
Our gazes lock together moments before Wade’s eyes begin to search mine. His efforts are as intense as everything else about him, and I want to look away … but I can’t.
Finally, we’re interrupted by the server and our food.
“Thank you,” I say as she places my platter in front of me. I tune Wade out as he converses with her briefly about his coffee.
My chest is tight as I scramble to find another talking point. Relief courses through me when Wade diverts the conversation on his own.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks, his voice noticeably softer.
I shake my head. “I’m good. What more could a girl want besides chicken strips and steak fries?”
He grins. It’s slight and so fast that I would’ve missed it if I didn’t look up at the exact right moment. But, lucky for me, I did.
I smile back at him, and it only grows when he looks away, clearly perturbed at being caught in such a ridiculous act.
“It’s critical we identify how you use your space currently and how you envision yourself using the new space,” he says, back to business. “Have you given this much thought?”
“Nope.”
He looks up with surprise.
“Okay. I gave it a bit of thought last night,” I admit. “But I don’t really have any specific plans.”
His fork clinks as he sets it on the side of his plate. “You do realize that I’m going to need your input in order to make this project successful, right?”
I shrug.
He sighs.
I grin.
He grimaces and picks up his fork again.