Chapter 31
SHAY
If I thought my focus was off before I spent five straight nights with Kolton, my current inability to keep my mind on work and off him could land me in the unemployment line.
Channeling my focus, I text Hilary about the changes I’ve made to the silkscreens as Maeve breezes into the construction zone that will soon be Moondog’s new shop.
Her sleek bob is freshly blown, her red lipstick glossy.
There isn’t a wrinkle on her linen pants or silk top, but she appears to be empty-handed.
And she looks smug. Battle ready.
A loud bang rings through the space, dust billowing as drills, saws, and hammers create a symphony of noise.
I sneeze, wrinkling my nose in an effort to fight the reflex a second time.
Each day I leave here covered in a layer of grime, fine drywall powder invading every pore on my body.
And I record any and every interaction with Maeve, including the two times she claimed she didn’t receive emails I’d sent.
As Maeve approaches, I narrow my eyes. “Didn’t you pick up the lights this morning? The electrician needs them today.”
Her grin widens. “Sorry, Shy. I had car trouble and didn’t want to be late.”
Car trouble, my ass. After Ramiro’s departure, I wondered if she would put aside her crap to help pull this project together, but Maeve is still Maeve—territorial, insecure. If stores were open longer, I’d do everything myself. I’d crisscross the city through traffic if it meant not relying on her.
Sadly, furniture and design shops don’t offer twenty-four-hour drive-thru. “And you didn’t call to tell me because…?”
She ignores my snarky tone and studies her manicured nails. “I presumed you’d be busy delegating. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work, Shy.” Her fake-accented sentences dip at the end, each word elongated.
I fight a snarl and make a mental note to add this to my Maeve file.
Kolton pushes through the front door then, and my frustrated reply dries up.
Along with my saliva. Visions of our most recent night together burn through my mind: me, naked on the desk in his room while he stood before me, my backside in his hands, his deep thrusts knocking the furniture into the wall; him, bent over my back, whispering dirty nothings into my ear as he shattered my multiple-orgasm record. (Hence the concentration issues.)
He also insisted on lending me money to settle things with my landlord.
I reluctantly accepted, hoping the promotion at Concept comes through.
With that job, my rent won’t be an issue, but I’m still guarding my heart, worried the second I give him all of me, I’ll lose the woman I’ve worked so hard to find.
But each day I offer him another inch, and tomorrow we’ll be going on our first official date.
It’s kind of weird that we’ve never been out together, just the two of us.
He strides toward me, coffees in hand, barely concealing the hunger in his eyes, like we’re back in his room, on his bed, against his wall.
He looks delicious with the dusting of scruff on his chin.
Worn boots, snug jeans, Moondog T-shirt.
I’d take one of him over ten of those cookie dough cupcakes. Maybe.
Behind him, the electrician steps inside, and I curse under my breath. Maeve glances over her shoulder, then back at me as she smiles her Cruella De Vil smile. “Shall I fetch the lights, then?”
“Yes, Maeve. Fetch. And please be quick about it.” But it’s rush hour, streets overcrowded with drivers fighting gridlock.
It’ll take her at least an hour to get there and back.
The electrician has another job this afternoon, which means he won’t be back until after the weekend. Hilary won’t be happy.
“Kolton,” Maeve says in greeting as she struts by him.
He tips his head. “Maeve.” When he’s close enough to touch, his familiar woodsy scent curls around me. “Missed you this morning,” he says. “I didn’t even hear you get up. Wasn’t sure you’d be able to move after last night.”
He places one of the coffees on the worktable behind me and grazes my arm. A casual brush that is anything but, and a bruise on my left hip throbs as if sensing its creator.
“I’m great, thanks,” I say formally. “Nice to see you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you haven’t told Hilary we’re dating yet, so we’re still under the radar.”
I nod. Every day since I moved in, I’ve piled on another excuse, a reason I didn’t tell Hilary I’m sleeping with our client. She was in a bad mood. We didn’t have time to talk.
Unfortunately, I can’t put this off forever. “She hasn’t been in yet, but the second she gets here, I will. This morning for sure.”
“If you don’t want to tell her, Shay, we can keep things quiet.”
I frown at him. “Is that what you want?”
“Me? No.” He gestures weirdly at nothing, then does an odd shrugging thing. “I’d love to be able to touch you in public, say what I want when I want—like how fucking beautiful you look right now—but only if you’re ready to go public.”
His stammering is odd, but there’s nothing easy about hiding a hot-and-heavy relationship in public. “I don’t want to blow up my career, but secrets always have a way of getting out, especially with Maeve out to sabotage me. I need to be the one to tell Hilary we’re together.”
“Then I’m behind the decision. Also, while we have a moment, I wanted to ask you something.”
“The floor is yours.”
He glances down at the unfinished surface. “Quite literally, since I own it. Anyway, Sawyer hired an event company to organize the grand opening, but I think they need to coordinate with you to get a better vibe for the store. Any chance you have time to work with them?”
The electrician tries to catch my eye, so I hold up a finger to let him know I’ll be a minute.
Sighing, I focus on Kolton. “As much as I’d love to help, I’m not sure I can sacrifice the time. But Lily’s great with details and planning, and she knows the business as well as I do.”
He nods. “Great idea. You mind asking her?”
“Not at all. I’m meeting her and Raven for lunch and can ask then. For now, I need to deal with a problem.”
I leave him to greet the approaching electrician, readying to admit I don’t have everything he requested. After explaining my (Maeve’s) incompetence to the man, we make a plan for him to return on Monday. He leaves as Hilary comes in.
Like Maeve, she’s always polished and put together, her voluminous curls always just so, her makeup flawless. Today’s pencil skirt and blue blouse are likely off a rack at Prada.
She glances over the skinny jeans, sandals, and tight black T-shirt I threw on this morning. I’m all for Casual Fridays.
Frowning, she says, “Why is the electrician leaving?”
I contemplate throwing Maeve under the bus as Hilary places her purse on our worktable. With the Kolton bomb I’ll be dropping, I don’t want to give her any other reason to question my ability, but I won’t undermine Maeve unless forced. I need to own my position as team leader.
“I made a bad call,” I say. “I’ve sent Maeve to get what we need this morning, and the electrician will be back on Monday to run the wires.”
Again, she studies me, a contemplative look that has my shoulders wanting to cave forward. I fight the urge to slouch and stand taller.
“It shouldn’t set us back too much,” she says. “But you need to stay on top of things. This is your job. Your project. Things will always go wrong when pulling a space together. It’s your responsibility to manage it. People included. Associate designers don’t shrink from confrontation.”
This is the first time she’s hinted at my promotion, and there’s something in her tone—appraising, supportive.
Challenging? Like she wants me to succeed, but only if I prove myself.
Like she knows Maeve is a world-class bitch who will do her best to trip me up, and my advancement depends on my ability to govern her.
If I owned my own firm, Maeve’s the last person I’d trust as a partner, but it’s not my decision to make.
I follow Hilary to where Kolton’s waiting and remind myself that I need to own my relationship, too. Quit being such a scaredy cat and come clean. I dig my nails into my palms to calm my shaking hands.
“Shay,” Kolton says when we reach him. This is his work tone, used when he needs to address a concern.
He keeps a healthy distance between us and juts his chin toward Ben, the largest guy in our construction crew.
I’m not sure how he finds overalls and work boots in his size.
“You need to review the exact angle of the hanging wall,” Kolton tells me.
“Ben started drilling, but it doesn’t look like he has the revised drawings. ”
Shit. Kolton shouldn’t catch this. I should catch this. “Yeah, okay. I was sure I’d given everyone the changes.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of course Hilary is here to witness the mistake, right after she mentions my possible promotion.
I hurry toward the worktable at the back and sift through the mass of parchment on top.
When I find the folder with the wall dimensions, I check the date on the bottom to confirm they’re the ones I adjusted earlier this week.
Kolton’s chatting with Hilary, sipping his coffee, the two of them in a private tête-à-tête closer to the front door. Paranoia crawls up my neck.
Is she asking him about me? Does she know? I’m so frazzled by the time I return to Ben that I drop the papers on the floor.
We both stoop to pick them up, and he places his large hand on my back. “Don’t worry about the hole I drilled. It won’t be visible when we’re done.” We often pore over drawings together, Ben always quick to boost my confidence when complications arise.
I force a smile, still angry at myself for the mistake. “Thanks.”
When we’re standing, his hand lingers on me, his distance closer than Kolton’s was a moment ago. “Everything okay? You seem a little off.”
Kolton stares at us, his lips tight.
Attempting to ignore the brown lasers boring into me from across the room, I face Ben and step out of reach. “Let’s just say the ante’s been upped on this job, and I’m not playing with a full deck.”
“A poker reference.” He drops his head and leans into my ear, his deep baritone lowering. “Now I have to ask you out.”
More flustered than ever, I shrug with an awkward “I’m sort of seeing someone.”
If “sort of” is living together and sharing a bed.
Disappointment clouds his face. “If the ‘sort of’ part of the equation doesn’t pan out, let me know.”
Ben returns to work, and, unable to stop myself, I glance over at Kolton. His face is red, his stance stiff. Hilary’s saying something to him, but he barely looks her way, and the coffee in his hand tilts at a precarious angle. A few drops land on the floor, unnoticed.
Man, he looks pissed. And I don’t blame him. If a woman were leaning into his side and asking him out, I’d go roller derby on her.
Whatever Kolton says to Hilary ends their conversation. He dumps his coffee in a nearby bin and skirts around the Shop-Vac and tools piled on the floor, aiming right for me. My heart pounds a quickening beat, thump thump thumping in my ears.
Then he’s in front of me. His hand lands on my back. He leads me toward what will eventually be the back room, the section currently divided with drywall, and backs me into a dark corner. “I’ve changed my mind. I do care if you tell Hilary about us.”
“Because you want us to wear matching velour sweatsuits?” I joke.
“If Ben knew we were together,” he says, ignoring my babbling, “he’d never pull that shit—touching you in front of me, whispering to you.” He grips my hips, the bruise from last night reminding me how punishing Kolton can be. Delectably punishing. “I don’t like it,” he finishes.
I lean into him. “I know. I’m sorry. He’s harmless, but you’re right. I’ll tell her now.”
With the associate design position dangled in front of me, I’m even more uneasy to share this tidbit with my boss, but I deserve the job, more than Maeve deserves the partnership.
I’m working my butt off on this project, and I’d never step on others to rise.
But if Hilary learns Kolton and I are dating, her looks of approval may turn into frowns of disdain, my capability and talent put into question.
Kolton tips his head down and kisses me, softly at first, then deeper. So thoroughly my stress dissipates. I want to run my hand up his shirt, over the firm ridges of his abs, through the dusting of hair across his chest.
He nips my lower lip and pulls away. “Don’t worry, Shay. Hilary knows you’re indispensable.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” At least, he better be. Loud voices drift over, a reminder we’re not alone. I smile, suddenly shy. “I forgot to mention, but Hilary said she’s considering me for the permanent position.”
His eyes cloud momentarily, then his body softens. “Of course she is. Your designs kick ass.” He kisses me again, softly, and presses his forehead to mine. “I hate to leave, but I have an appointment.”
“Where?” I tug him closer, dreading losing contact.
“We’ll discuss it on our date tomorrow. Have fun at lunch with the girls.” He squeezes my hips and leaves me to gather myself before I face Hilary and confess that I’m dating the most important client Concept has ever had.