Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Dara
“I should’ve held out.”
The statement is a mixture of a whisper and a grumble as I make my way toward Wade’s office. Poor Eliza was extra sweet as I inundated her with my nervous, random-ass questions and comments.
That’s what not hearing from your architect for a week will do to you.
I knock, holding my breath in preparation to hear his voice.
I’ve played our conversation from last week until I’ve either committed it to memory or just made up what I wanted it to say.
I’m not sure which is the truth at this point …
and that is a huge part of the reason my heart is thundering in my chest.
That and he sent me a text that simply read: Can you be here in an hour?
There was no follow-up. No explanation. No reply to my over-enthusiastic Okay!
It’s impossible to know why he hasn’t called before now. I know he has other clients, and I’m probably the least important out of them all. He designs shopping malls, hotels, and mega-mansions for the uber-wealthy.
I know. I looked at his website while contemplating the lack of communication over a bottle of red wine and a box of Teddy Grahams three nights ago.
Wade also just might not have anything to say. I’ve never worked with an architect before, so I don’t know the process. But I thought we had our version of fun together last week, and I thought maybe I’d hear from him.
I didn’t. And now I don’t know what to expect. Will things be serious again? Is he upset with me for pushing him to open up a little?
Was he appalled at the back seat of my car and decided I needed to be handled with care?
I grin. He’d be right.
“Come in,” he says, both before I’m ready and after I’ve already worked myself into a tizzy.
I take a long, deep, shaky breath and open the door.
He’s reclining in his chair, one ankle crossed over the other knee. His pants are black just like his shirt, and I wonder if he’s trying to exude alpha male vibes or if it’s a happy coincidence.
“Hi,” I say, closing the door behind me.
He runs a finger over his bottom lip and doesn’t say a word.
I think I can hear my nerve endings fry as his gaze singes them.
“We aren’t doing this today,” I say, taking a seat across from him.
“May I ask what in the world you’re talking about?”
He doesn’t smile—God forbid he grace me with that overt gesture—but I do pick up on something. I may be hearing what I want to hear, but I think I can distinguish a smile in his voice.
“You may,” I tell him, getting settled in my chair. “But I’m not explaining the obvious.”
I blow out a breath, my body still, and look at him as intensely as he looks at me. It’s a standoff for a long few seconds. My temperature peaks so high that I think my cheeks are going to burst into flames. But I achieve my goal: I outlast the handsome bastard.
He bends forward, dipping his chin, and sits with his arms resting on his desktop.
Relief comes off me in waves. I hope he can’t tell.
“I never quite know what greeting I’m going to get from you,” he says, his lips twitching. “It could be a hug. It might be a dog attack. Admonishments are apparently on the table.”
“Which do you prefer?” I grin, relief coursing through me. “I like to please.”
He shakes his head and looks away, fiddling through a stack of papers.
Good try, Mason.
“I like Eliza,” I tell him.
The statement catches him off guard. His attention whips back to me.
“That’s random,” he says.
“I know. But …” I sigh. “Look, I know none of this is any of my business, but I can’t help myself.”
“Here we go.”
“But she’s so sweet, Wade, and she sits out there like someone is going to say boo! and she’s going to pee her pants.”
He takes his glasses off and sets them on his desk. “And what would you like me to do about that?”
“I do have potential solutions. I never come unprepared.”
I’m pretty sure he wants to tell me to fuck off, but he seems resolved to the inevitable.
I appreciate that about him.
“So,” I say, crossing a leg over the other and really getting comfortable. “My first suggestion is that you relax a little. I think she’s jumpy because you’re a little … overbearing.”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
“Sure, you haven’t.” I roll my eyes. “And maybe … compliment her occasionally. Do you do that?” I pause, taking in his unmoving reaction. “Didn’t think so.”
“You want me to compliment my assistant? My employee? That’s asking for legal trouble, Dara.”
“Not like that. Just tell her she’s doing a good job. Appreciate her attention to detail. Oh! I know—this should be easy for you—tell her you notice that she’s always on time.”
I might as well have told him to ask her to marry him. He just looks at me blankly like we are living on different planets.
“I’m going to point out something—one more thing that’s none of my business—”
He sighs and falls back into his chair.
“—that your refusal to make your employee feel seen is a reflection of your apparent disregard for intimacy in relationships.”
As the last words fall out of my mouth, Wade’s office door swings open without warning. In walks a taller, slightly older, and much friendlier version of Wade. His steps come to a screeching halt when he sees me.
“I …” He swallows and looks at Wade and then back down to me again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting.” I extend a hand. “I’m Dara Alden. It’s nice to meet you.”
A smile breaks out across the man’s face. His attention flips to Wade in a moment of incredulity before he takes my hand.
“I’m Holt Mason. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Alden.”
Wade says something under his breath that I can’t quite make out.
Holt sits next to me. “So, I heard something about intimacy in relationships?” He stares down his brother with an amusement that he doesn’t even try to hide.
Wade scowls at him, also without trying to hide it.
“Well, since your brother is tongue-tied,” I say, twisting my body to face Holt. “We were talking about Wade’s refusal … failure?” I glance quickly at Wade and then back to his brother. “Let’s go with refusal. His refusal to introduce intimacy into his relationships on any level.”
Holt quirks a brow. “Oh, really?”
“That’s enough,” Wade says, shaking his head.
I pivot in my seat until I’m facing Wade again. “That’s not enough. You won’t even listen to what I’m saying, and I’m right. I know that pains you to hear and even more to admit, but you need to—”
“Dara,” he says, his voice rising over mine. “Let it go.”
“Fine. It’s your life.”
Holt clears his throat. “So … Are the two of you …” He motions between Wade and me.
“She is Bowery’s granddaughter,” Wade says with a tinge of disdain.
I don’t have time to really process that before Holt hums in understanding.
“I haven’t seen your grandfather in quite a while,” Holt says. “How is he?”
How the hell do I know?
Knowing I can’t say that—I can’t tarnish the family reputation—I grin.
“Granddad is great. I just spoke with him the other night. We’re having dinner soon,” I say. The words sound like they’re coming from someone else’s mouth. I’m completely disconnected from them.
“Give him my regards, please.” Holt nods, capping off the respect in his tone.
“Of course.”
The space between the three of us is unwieldy. I don’t know what to say, but I can’t take the thickness of the air and the tension in the room.
“So, Holt, are you the brother who just had a baby?” I ask.
Wade’s chair creaks as if he’s moved, but I don’t dare look at him.
Holt grins. “No. That’s Coy. He and his wife had their baby boy last week.”
“Can I ask what they named it? I love baby names. I’m a photographer, and I have a fascination with what people name their kids.”
“Kelvin Joseph Mason. Kelvin is after Coy, and Joseph is Bellamy’s father. That’s Coy’s wife.”
Wade groans.
“Kelvin is unique,” I say.
Holt’s chuckle is loud and smooth. “It’s a terrible name. Let’s be honest.”
I shrug, my cheeks heating as I laugh too.
“So you’re a photographer?” Holt asks.
He looks briefly at his brother. I don’t. I can feel Wade’s vibes of displeasure smashing against me, and I’m not sure what my reaction will be if I see his moody face.
“I am,” I say, carrying the conversation along. “I do family portraits and weddings, mostly. I’m trying to move into architectural and landscape photography, but it’s a whole different world.”
“My fiancée found our wedding location from a picture,” Holt admits. “She saw it in a magazine somewhere. She’s not from Savannah, so she doesn’t know all the niche places. You know what I mean?”
“Of course.”
“Anyway, she saw a picture of the Bartholomew Gardens and fell in love.” He shrugs, unable to hide his love for his soon-to-be wife. “So, that’s where we’re getting married.”
“I know that place,” I say. “I’ve never been closer than the road in front of it because it’s so tightly controlled. It’s never open, and when it is, I think it costs a fortune. No offense,” I add quickly.
Holt laughs again. “Hey, speaking of my wedding …” He looks at his brother, his face lighting up and a smile spreading across his cheeks. “Between me, my mother, and Blaire—my fiancée—we’ve invited so many people that we’ve lost count.”
I sense Wade’s movement. My heart starts to race.
“Why don’t you come to the wedding?” Holt asks.
“It’s on Saturday, so last minute, I know.
But you’d get to see the gardens and have some excellent food and drinks because Siggy Mason does nothing halfway.
” He laughs happily. “Maybe you’ll even meet some people who can help you expand your business. Can’t hurt, right?”
My racing heart levels up to a full-blown sprint.
Is he serious?
I look at Wade. As expected, he’s staring at me.
I can’t make out what he’s thinking—both because reading him is like reading tea leaves and because I’m so excited at the possibility that just landed fortuitously in my lap. Not only that, but it would be such a fun thing to get all dressed up and do something different.
“Are you serious?” I ask Holt.
He nods. “We’d love for you to come.”
I fidget in my seat. “I wouldn’t know anyone, so that might be weird.”
“Wade doesn’t have a date and isn’t in the wedding …” Holt says, letting his voice drift off.
My gaze snaps back to Wade’s.
“You aren’t in the wedding?” I ask.
He clenches his jaw and shifts his eyes to Holt.
“Wade,” I say, my voice rising. “That’s perfect. We can go together.”
“I’d be happy to add you as his plus-one,” Holt offers.
I turn back to Holt. “You would? I mean, I don’t want to intrude, but it would be an awesome opportunity, and since Wade doesn’t have a date anyway—it’s kismet.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Holt says.
“Perfect then. Saturday, you say?” I ask.
Holt smiles. “Yes. The ceremony starts at six. Prepare to dance all night. This is going to be one big party.”
I squeal and get to my feet. “Thank you for the invitation. I would be thrilled to come. And thank you for considering a fabulous networking opportunity too. I’m just … wow.”
“Not a problem.”
I look at Wade. He’s not smiling, but when is he ever?
“You,” I say, pointing at him, “can pick me up at four. I’m going to go find a dress and leave you two alone to … whatever it is that you came here for,” I say, waving goodbye. “Thanks again, Holt.”
He puffs out his chest. “Not a problem at all.”
I stop at the door and turn around. “Wade?”
He’s sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He looks up at me like a sad puppy.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to have fun,” I say, tossing him a wink.
He nods ever so slightly.
That’s good enough.
I let myself out the door, unsure what Wade even wanted, and nearly skip down the hall.