by Hazel Kelly
I watched him walk to the door, admiring how broad his shoulders were and how well his suit fit across them. He was a different shape than Simon, a more muscular shape- and taller- whereas Simon had the lithe body of a runner.
But I needed to not let his physicality interfere with the fact that I desperately needed this job. “Any idea when you’ll know what day you want to show me the location?” I asked. “Or would you like me to follow up in a few days?”
He opened the door and looked over his shoulder at me. “I’m not sure yet,” he said, stepping into the reception area. He turned to face me as he reached for his coat on the rack. “But I’ll give you a call in the next few days.”
“Sounds good,” I said, wondering what his parents looked like for his face to have come out so chiseled.
He slipped his coat on and reached inside his back pocket. “And just in case anything comes up-” He pulled a card out of his wallet and extended it towards me with two fingers.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it. It was black with silver lettering and had nothing but his name- Ben Abbott- and a number on it. I wondered if it was a card he used for both business and pleasure.
He nodded at me and Nora and then let himself out.
We both stared at the door like loyal retrievers, our invisible tails wagging.
“Holy shit.”
I turned to look at Nora who was standing behind her desk, bracing herself against it.
“Fuck Tinder,” she said. “I’m putting an ad in the paper.”
I smiled.
“Seriously, Carrie. How yummy was that guy?”
I shrugged. “I suppose he was kind of handsome.”
Her eyebrows jumped up her face. “Kind of handsome?! My god I’d swipe right for that guy all day long.”
I laughed and crossed my arms.
“In fact, I’d do a lot more than swipe right to impress that guy, I’d-”
“Alright,” I said, lifting a hand in her direction. “Settle down.”
She took a deep breath and shook her head towards the door he’d just walked out.
“Let’s not treat my only lead like a piece of meat,” I said. “I really need this job.”
“Great, cause I need you to need this job,” she said. “If I thought I was never going to see that guy again-”
“What?”
She shook her head at the ceiling, her long brown hair shaking behind her. “I don’t know. I guess I like to think I’d run after him.”
I squinted at her. “And then what?”
She shrugged. “Offer myself up to him? Beg him to let me suck his abs.”
“He was fully clothed. You don’t even know if he has abs.”
“Carrie, that guy has abs. You can tell. I mean, his posture was impeccable.”
I raised my eyebrows. “His posture?”
“Yeah. Plus, even his jaw had muscles in it. You don’t think his stomach does?”
“I’m not interested in his stomach,” I said. “I’m interested in decorating his club.”
Her eyes went wide. “That’s what he was here for? He has a club?”
I nodded.
“That’s so cool.”
“I know,” I said. “Talk about good publicity.”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s assuming I pull it off though.”
“You’re totally going to pull it off.”
I shrugged. “I hope so. It’s not like anything’s been signed yet.”
“I have a really good feeling about it.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “And I have a really good spidey sense.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“It’s true,” she said. “The Tinder thief was a once off, I swear.”
“I believe you,” I said, turning towards my office.
“But Carrie?”
I raised my eyebrows in her direction. “Nora?”
“I know you’re fucked up over Simon-”
“I’m not fucked up over Simon.”
She cocked her head at me.
I sighed. “Okay. I might be a little fucked up.”
“That’s alright. You’re entitled. It would be weird if you weren’t.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“But you really shouldn’t be selling your good taste for a living if you couldn’t tell that guy was, like, the hottest guy ever.”
I pursed my lips.
“Just saying.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Any idea if he’s single?”
“No clue.”
“Did you see a ring?” she asked. “I was afraid if I looked down I might start sweating.”
“I wasn’t looking, Nora. I was talking to him about his design needs.”
She blew air out from between her lips. “Something tells me he has other needs that would be a lot more fun to meet.”
“As always, I appreciate your professionalism.”
“Oh relax,” she said, waving a hand at me. “It’s not like I’d get weird in front of him.”
“Good.”
“Unless he asked me to-”
“Nora!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay to be excited that our only lead so far isn’t an eyesore, but let’s not forget why we’re here.”
She lowered herself into her seat. “Right.”
I put my hand on the door to my office. “Plus, think of how many other hotties might walk through those doors if I do a good job on this project-”
She nodded. “Good point.”
“I think so, too. Now get back to work.”
I closed the door to my office, leaned against the wall beside it, and let out a long sigh.
Not giving in to Nora’s excitement hadn’t been easy. After all, I did have good taste, and I could tell that Ben was probably the hottest client I would ever have- if I could secure the deal.
But he was still a client.
So it wasn’t okay that I noticed his hands and his eyes and his shoulders and his lips like I had.
And it wasn’t okay that I felt something in the deepest part of me when he shook my hand, and that- despite that feeling- I shook his hand again before he left.
Of course, as inappropriate as it was, I didn’t want to be too hard on myself. After all, I’d been spending most of my days trying to push thoughts about what a foolish, unlovable, fiancé-less loser I was out of my mind.
So the fact that he made me feel something else, something warm and inviting, seemed like it should be considered a good thing.
As long as the feeling didn’t get out of control.
Cause he was a client, and he deserved my respect.
So I would play it cool.
I would be professional.
And no matter how friendly or flirtatious he was, I would not spend another second wondering about his abs.
Chapter 14: Ben
By the time I got back outside, I was relieved to discover the rain had stopped. Then again, even if it hadn’t, I’m not sure I would’ve cared or noticed.
Cause after seeing Carrie Callihan’s deep dimpled smile, I had more interesting things to think about.
And those eyes!
They were so big and such a lovely shade of brown.
I blew some air out from between my lips and headed down the street. Her picture hadn’t done her justice.
I knew she’d be easy on the eyes alright, but I didn’t know she’d be a fucking babe. Not that being attractive was a requirement or anything, but it was a nice bonus if we’d have to work together.
Frankly, she was so pretty it might be worth letting her do whatever she wanted with the club just to see her smile, even if I had to pay someone else to fix it after she left.
Except I wasn’t quite that nice of a guy.
Regardless, as long as she was qualified to do the work, I didn’t see the problem with going ahead.
Of course, I had no fucking idea if she was qualifie
d.
It wasn’t until I left her office that I remembered all the things I meant to ask. Like for her references and whether or not she had a portfolio of work I could peruse. But it all slipped my mind as soon as I saw her.
Could I ask for those things later? Or would I just look like a flake?
Ugh.
I hated making such green mistakes when it came to business. Either of my parents would’ve flipped if they’d seen how willing I was to give her a chance.
Of course, she didn’t seem to mind that I hadn’t asked. So that was something. I should probably just take her confidence as a good omen. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d signed anything.
If we weren’t a good match, we could always go our separate ways- except that would probably mess up my chances of sleeping with her.
But maybe I shouldn’t. Or maybe I should at least wait until she was done decorating the club before considering it further so things didn’t get messy.
Plus, if she was recently out of a long term relationship, she was probably vulnerable.
If only that didn’t turn me on.
Seriously, though, I didn’t want to be a dick. Or give her the wrong idea. Or be a fucking rebound.
Actually, I didn’t really give a shit about the latter, but still. Sleeping with the first person I brought in to work on my new business was probably exactly what my dad would expect me to do.
Self-control was so overrated, though.
Shit. Maybe I should’ve picked a mongrel for the job so I didn’t have to worry about it.
Or my mom. She’d probably be pissed when she realized I didn’t ask for her opinion, especially considering her impressive track record designing spaces for elite clients. But eventually she’d understand that this was something I needed to do without her.
I glanced down at my watch.
I had some work to do at the hotel before I could meet Christophe so I needed to get a move on. After all, the last thing I needed was for Will to doubt my commitment to his business while I got my own up and running.
I looked over my shoulder to see if there were any cabs coming up the street behind me, but right when I thought I saw one, I went plowing into some guy.
“Shit,” he said through gritted teeth. His green cashmere sweater was covered in coffee, and I could see steam rising off his chest where the spill was.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, patting my coat pockets for napkins I knew I didn’t have. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking past his beard at the stain.
“That was completely my fault,” I said. “Can I hold that for you?”
He handed his coffee to me, pulled some crumpled napkins out of his pocket, and started blotting.
“Can I pay for you to get that dry cleaned?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It was going to happen eventually anyway.”
“No, please. I insist.”
He shook his head at his chest. “I wouldn’t even care if it hadn’t been a gift.”
“I’ll give you my card and you can send me the bill.”
He raised his head and looked at me. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”
“What?”
“Are you fucking mocking me?” he asked. “Do I look like the kind of guy that sends things to the dry cleaners?”
I craned my neck back and took him in. His long jacket was pretty dirty, and he was wearing a hat that I’d previously thought only looked good on Irish cab drivers. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you. I just want to make things right.”
He took his coffee back. “I don’t need my dry cleaning paid for. I’m homeless, man. I need a place to stay.”
And suddenly it all made sense. The dirty fingernails, the filthy coat. But the bright green cashmere sweater didn’t fit. It must’ve been what threw me off.
“Not that I expect you to give me one.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Actually, I can help with that.”
He shook his head. “You’re the funniest guy I’ve met this week.”
“No really.” I reached in my back pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, taking it between his thin fingers.
“It’s a homeless shelter where I volunteer sometimes.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“They don’t always have free beds, but you can get a hot meal every day of the week.”
“Thanks.”
“And if you give your sweater to Barb, I’ll get it cleaned for you, and you can pick it up there.”
“You for real?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He squinted at me. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.”
“Well, in that case, welcome to my city. It’s good to have you.” He stuck his hand out. “Woody’s the name, and poetry’s my game.”
I shook his hand. “Poetry?”
“What? You’ve never met a poet before?”
I smiled. “You’re my first.”
“You can come see me live sometime if you want.”
“Oh yeah.” I cocked my head. “Where?”
“Beside the 54a bus stop on Ashland during the week and on the corner of Frisk and Dodge at the weekend.”
“Cool.”
“Donations kindly accepted.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do. And maybe I’ll see you at The Nest sometime…”
“Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben.”
“You, too,” I said, pointing at his chest. “And sorry again about being so clumsy.”
He waved my apology away. “Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the price we pay for them that’s different.”
I swallowed. “Make sure you get that sweater to Barb,” I said, pulling a few bucks out of my wallet. “And get yourself a hot coffee.”
“Thanks, man,” he said. “Save me sucking on these napkins.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“That was a joke.”
“Right.”
He smiled. “I’m a funny guy, too.”
“Yes you are,” I said, patting the side of his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Woody.”
“God bless,” he said.
And as I headed down the street to a place where I could catch a cab, I wondered if Woody knew any good love poems.
Cause I realized I’d just done something I hadn’t done in years.
I told a girl I’d call.
Chapter 15: Carrie
I was researching what types of fabrics are most commonly used in club furniture when Nora poked her head in.
“What’s up?” I asked, turning my head towards her.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
I pulled my hands away from the keyboard and leaned back in my chair.
She pursed her lips.
“Well?”
“Simon’s here,” she said quietly.
My eyes went wide. “What?”
“He looks like shit.”
I scoffed. “Tell him to fuck off.”
“I tried.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Did you use those words?”
She nodded. “Right after I told him what I thought of him.”
I craned my neck forward. “What exactly did you say?”
“I told him he was the biggest prick on Earth and that I hoped he got his balls caught in his zipper every day until penis cancer rotted his knob off.”
I suppressed a smile.
“And that if I didn’t have my whole life ahead of me, I’d have someone pump him full of so much venereal disease he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his asshole and a rotten cauliflower.”
