by Cassie Cross
“Thank you.” I’m not going to tell her this, but I’m pretty proud of myself. I haven’t really gotten a chance to get my hands dirty with actual design yet. Making centerpieces and accessories adds a nice personalization that I’d like to offer my clients, and I’m glad that I’m at least somewhat good at it.
It might come in handy with the Buchanan party, given the budget issues I’m having.
“So,” I begin. I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up my to-do app. “We have the string lights, I’ve got some guys distressing the tables. The centerpieces are done, I’ve got the barbecue place booked for catering, and we have the cake. Now all we need is the dress.”
Hayley absolutely beams at that. “I have the dress.”
I mock glare at her. “What? Aren’t we supposed to shop together, drink champagne, and argue over which neckline looks better?”
“Sorry,” she replies sheepishly. “I was shopping in Old Town this afternoon. I walked by a vintage store, and it was in their front window. The second I saw it, I just…knew.”
“That’s the way it should be. Do you have pictures?”
She nods happily and pulls out her phone. “I was going to bring it over so Hunter doesn’t find it, but I didn’t want to put it in a cab.”
She starts scrolling through the pictures, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. A flowing, bohemian-style dress that fits Hayley perfectly. With some loose braids pulled back into a casual bun at the nape of her neck, she’ll be stunning.
“The girl at the shop was more than happy to let me model it,” she says as she flips through the photos. “She made sure she got every angle.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her with a smile. “You look amazing, and it’s definitely on theme.”
She steps forward and runs the back of her fingers along one of the willows I put in the centerpieces. “Definitely.”
It’s then that she notices the samples I’d laid out for the Buchanan party.
“What’s this?” she asks. “I love these fabrics.”
“Just some samples for the Buchanan party.”
“This is exactly the kind of thing a rich sixteen year-old would like.”
I laugh, sliding my fingers along the gauzy white cloth with shimmery gold stars printed on it. “You are correct. Riley went nuts when she saw it.”
“It’s fun without being childlike. Where are you having the party?”
I sigh. “That’s the million-dollar question. Literally. Since I’m gonna need a million dollars to book a place that Jesse finds acceptable.”
Hayley’s eyebrows scrunch together. “What?”
“Alice Buchanan told me that Jesse has to approve of the venue before I can book it. I showed him the 5 best places that were in my budget, and he said no to all of them. He was a real asshole about it too.”
“Do you want me to talk to Hunter about it?”
“No,” I reply with a smile. “I was complaining to you as a friend, not as the boss’s wife.”
“Future wife,” she corrects.
“Okay, fine. Future wife, who bought a gorgeous dress to get married in.”
Hayley absolutely beams. “Okay, I’ll take it. Anything I can do to help as a friend, and not the boss’s future wife?”
“Just listen,” I reply. “This isn’t the first challenge I’ve had in this business, and it’s definitely not gonna be the last. I need to learn to deal without any intervention.”
Hayley nods. “Hunter doesn’t talk business with me that often,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “But he has mentioned that Jesse’s been having a hard time lately. Hunter took him out of the field because of something that happened.”
I’m not completely devoid of sympathy for hard times, but… “That doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.”
With a soft smile, Hayley says, “I never said it did.”
I return that smile. Fair enough.
“The Jesse I know is the guy you said he was that weekend. He’s not the type to be an uncompromising dick, so…something must be going on there.”
“Yeah, well. There’s not much I can do about it if he doesn’t want to work with me here. I’ll figure something out.” I have to.
Hayley pats my arm reassuringly. “I know you will.”
6
Jesse
Red Derby is crawling with people, considering it’s just a random Tuesday night. I sit on a stool on Carlos’s usual side of the bar and order a local IPA. When I’ve nearly finished my first beer, I start worrying that Carlos ditched tonight’s happy hour.
When I’m about to get up and leave, there’s a firm clap on my back.
“All the times I badgered you to come down here, and you just show up unannounced?” he says with a smile as he takes the seat next to mine. The bartender asks Carlos if he wants his usual, and he nods. “I’ve got to know what’s up.”
I take a swig of my beer, watching the condensation drip down the side of the can. “Nothing’s up,” I tell him. “Just wanted to blow off some steam.”
Carlos raises a brow like he knows I’m lying.
Since I left the coffee shop this afternoon, I’ve been feeling a nagging guilt in my gut that I can’t get rid of. A 10-mile run didn’t help, an hour with the punching bag didn’t make it go away. I thought it might disappear if I came down here and broke out of my routine, but so far? Nothing.
The bartender sets down Carlos’s drink.
When he walks away, I say, “I was a dick to someone today.”
“You?” Carlos says with a laugh before he takes a drink. “Never.”
I shrug, not feeling up to any banter tonight. “I…I feel terrible about it.”
“Man,” he says, shaking his head as he fiddles with the tab on his can. “I don’t know what’s up with you lately. You’ve been on edge the past few months, which is why I’ve been trying to get you to come out and let loose. And all I know is that you were working on all these interesting cases before, and now you’re practically on desk duty.”
Carlos is too observant for my own good, but I guess that’s what I came here looking for tonight.
But he’s not done talking yet. “Now, I’m not going to ask you what happened because you clearly don’t want to talk about it. But you need to get your shit together, my friend. Life’s too short for you to walk around being an unhappy asshole.”
He breaks off his tab and tosses it in front of me with a laugh. Reluctant as I am to admit it, I know he’s right.
“Look at me,” Carlos says, leaning back on his stool and stretching out his arms. “I got a good job, a good life, a good friend…got a girl waiting for me at home now. Life couldn’t be better.” He claps me on my shoulder. “I want that for everyone!”
All that might be too much for me right now, but going after one or two things might not be so bad.
“Maybe you have a point.”
He sighs. “Ain’t no maybe about it. There’s a point, and I have it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay.”
“Listen,” he says, reaching for his beer. “If you feel terrible about being an asshole, you probably have a reason to. So you should apologize for it.”
“It’s a work thing,” I explain. “I’m not sure how far an apology is gonna go.”
“Try anyway. And if you can help her out, help her out.”
“How do you know it’s a her?”
Carlos smirks. “I know.”
I think about it for a few seconds, piecing together the beginning of a plan to make things right with Alexa. “Let me see what I can figure out.”
“Good man.” Carlos stands and throws a couple bills on the bar. “Let’s get out of here and go down to Atomic. I’ll kick your ass at darts. You need a distraction so your brain doesn’t overheat while you come up with an apology.”
Asshole. I take out my wallet and settle the tab.
Trying to take my mind off this for a little while can’t hurt.
Alexa
I’ve been staring at my laptop screen for hours, crunching numbers and calling in what few favors I have to try and fix the growing venue problem I have for the Buchanan party. There’s also the fact that I need to prepare for a presentation I’m supposed to give to a potential client next week, but I can’t focus on anything but this stupid problem.
I’m about ready to slip into my pajamas, put my hair up, pull out some of those evil/delicious celebration cookies Marin brought over yesterday and veg out in front of a rom-com. Watching something completely frivolous might go a long way toward getting me in the right frame of mind, so I can tackle my ever-growing to-do list.
I hoist myself off of the couch and stretch out my tense muscles, groaning as the column of my neck cracks. Oh, how I wish I had an office somewhere, so I could do my work there instead of all curled up on my couch.
I’m startled by a knock on the door. It’s not like any of my friends to stop by unannounced, but I’m not all that worried about my life turning into a murder movie, so I trudge over and push up on the tips of my toes to get a look out of the peephole.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, taking a step back. Then I look again, just to make sure I’m not hallucinating or something.
Nope. No hallucination. Jesse’s standing out in my hallway, looking handsome as ever. I hate my heart for skipping a beat at the sight of him.
Traitor.
With a quick look at the state of myself in the mirror hanging to my left, I do my best to look at least a little presentable then open the door.
“Hi,” I say.
Jesse gives me a sheepish smile. “Hi,” he replies warmly.
“How did you find out where I live?” I should welcome him, or…something. I’m being rude, but given what happened between us yesterday, I can’t find it in me to care.
“I asked Hayley,” he admits. “Don’t be mad at her; I bribed her a little bit. I was afraid if I texted you, you wouldn’t answer.”
“Well, I…” He’s not wrong.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you because I was an asshole yesterday.”
The admission takes me a little off guard. This Jesse is warmer than he was yesterday. There’s an ease to him that reminds me a lot of the guy I met last year. The guy I haven’t been able to forget about since. It’s unsettling.
There’s no way of sugarcoating a response, so I nod. “You were.”
Jesse laughs and gives me a dazzling smile. If I wasn’t inclined to forgive him before, I kinda am now. Shallow, I know, but it is what it is.
“I’m sorry for the way I behaved. There are a few reasons for it, but none of them have anything to do with you, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
I grin. “Apology accepted, thank you.”
Jesse nods then clasps his hands in front of him. Seems like we’re not done yet.
“Did you come all this way just to apologize?”
He shakes his head. “No, I came all this way to make it right. Feel like going for a ride?”
All of a sudden, the allure of my PJs and a rom-com fade away. Besides, I’m intrigued enough that there’s no way I could say no.
“Sure.”
Jesse steps away from the door and holds out his arm. “Come on,” he says with a smile. “I won’t be a dick this time, promise.”
That lightens my mood. “I’m going to hold you to that,” I tell him, grabbing my keys off the hook they’re hanging on.
After I lock my door, Jesse leads me down the hallway to the elevator and presses the button.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise.”
I playfully narrow my eyes. “I don’t like surprises.”
With a sly grin, he replies, “I think you’re gonna like this one.”
After a ride down the elevator, he escorts me outside where a sedan is parked at the curb.
Jesse opens the door. “After you,” he says, nodding his head to let me know that I should slide in. I do as he says, and he shuts the door after he’s settled in beside me.
I don’t recognize the person who’s driving, but Jesse seems to know him. Maybe this should startle me a little, but I’m too curious to put a stop to it, and Jesse proved in the past that I can trust him with my life.
The driver already knows where we’re going because he pulls out into traffic and navigates without any instruction from Jesse. We sit in comfortable silence, which surprises me, and I admire Jesse’s profile as we pass under the streetlights. He’s a beautiful man, all chiseled and rugged. His brown hair flops in his eyes, giving him a boyish quality that’s difficult to resist. He looks a lot like he did when I first fell for him, and I’m reminded of that weekend we spent together. It was easy to make him laugh back then; he has a gorgeous smile.
He catches me looking at him but only grins in return.
“We’re almost there,” he tells me.
And he’s right because a minute later, the car pulls up to a large brick building at the end of a strip of high-end restaurants. The whole block is hopping, but traffic at this end is pretty sparse.
“C’mon,” he says as he gets out of the car. He reaches back for my hand and helps me up.
“What is this place?” It’s pretty plain, unable to compete against the lively bright neons up and down the block.
“It’s where Riley Buchanan’s birthday party’s gonna be, so long as you approve of it.”
It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in, and when I finally process what he’s telling me, a thrill skitters up my spine. “What?”
“We’ve both got a lot riding on this going well. I can’t compromise on the security, and security eats into the budget that you need to get the kind of place that I’d need to be comfortable with. So, I called in a favor. The building is open on three sides, there aren’t any sketchy alleyways or blindspots nearby. The buildings across the street are lower than this one, so my guys can keep an eye on the roofs. It’s perfect security wise, I just hope it’s perfect for what you need.”
I give the building a once-over, trying to imagine what I might find inside. It doesn’t look dilapidated, just plain, and like no one’s used it in a while. I’m worried I’m going to find a pitiful warehouse inside.
No use in being negative before I know what I’m dealing with, though.
“Can I see the inside?”
Jesse reaches into his pocket and dangles the key ring on the end of his index finger. “Absolutely.”
I follow him to the steel doors, where he undoes a couple of chains and puts random keys into a seriously obscene number of locks.
We walk inside. It’s pitch black, and there’s a very strong smell of plywood and paint. When Jesse flicks on the light, I can’t believe my eyes.
It’s empty, but it’s gorgeous. It’s a large, cavernous room with exposed brick walls, slick concrete floors, and contemporary glass-topped tables throughout. It’s definitely bare bones, but I can make this work. I could more than make it work…this place is amazing.
“Wow,” I breathe. “This is…I can’t believe you found a place like this. I searched every building in the city looking for something even remotely comparable, but this never came up in my searches. How did you know it was here?”
“It belongs to a friend,” he says. That’s all the explanation he gives me.
Not that I think Jesse would get me involved in something that isn’t on the up-and-up, but I need to know more than that if I agree to this. “Jesse. Come on.”
He sighs. “An old client and friend owns it,” he explains. “He has a few clubs and restaurants in the area, but he couldn’t take any of them out of commission for the kind of money we could pay him. This place is due to open next month, so he told me I could have it for the night.”
“Wow.” I know I said it before, but this place is seriously wow.
“Will it work?”
My hopes are already sky high, so I ask the one qu
estion that could completely dash them. “How much is it?”
He smiles softly and takes a step closer to me. “Like I said, I called in a favor.”
“What does that mean?” The question comes out exasperated, even through my smile.
“There’s no cost. It was a favor. He even said we could use the waitstaff, so long as we pay them. He thinks it’d be a good dry run for them.”
That strikes a small bolt of fear through my heart. “I want to test them out first and make sure they’re not terrible.”
“Of course,” Jesse replies.
A gorgeous venue with a full budget intact…not really how I imagined this night going, and it’s so much better than PJs and a movie. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, and it’s so hard not to be so ecstatic over it that I feel like bouncing off the walls.
“I can do so much with this,” I say—mostly to myself—as I wander across the floor, taking in every detail. There are so many ideas flowing through my mind that I don’t know what to focus on, or if I’ll even remember any of them once we leave the building.
“Is that a yes?”
I look over at him. “It’s most definitely a yes. An enthusiastic yes. A hell yes.”
And if his answering smile makes my knees weak, well…that’s just the relief talking.
“Holy shit, this place is perfect,” Marin says as she scrolls through the pics I took of the bar last night.
“Those don’t even do it justice,” I tell her, pointing at the pic. “We can put some vintage-style string lights along the catwalks to create a soft glow. There’s room for a deejay booth in the far corner over there. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better place.”
“And we don’t have to pay for it?” she asks skeptically.
“Not a cent,” I tell her with a smile. “Well, we have to pay the waitstaff, but we were going to have to pay them anyway. The kitchen staff is going to be in and out for the next few weeks to set up for the opening, so there will be food smells and whatnot, but…it’s a restaurant, so. We can deal.”
