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“Yeah, I’d love that,” he said, grabbing one of the guest chairs and sliding it over to my desk so he was sitting beside me. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
As she walked through the building, talking my dad through the different areas, I felt a weird burning in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but something about this situation was making my insides buzz.
After five more minutes, when Sophie said, “Aaaand we’re back at my desk,” I said, “We’ll let you get back to work now.”
“No, this was great. I cannot believe you built this place.” Sophie looked genuinely impressed as she smiled at my dad.
“Did Maxxie tell you we’re building the new Hawkins headquarters up the street from you?”
“No, Maxxie did not,” she replied, giving me a reproachful look, as if I should’ve told her. “He just said he had a project in the area.”
“You should come by during lunch and take a look around. He can pick you up on his way over. It’s literally on your block.”
I expected her to politely decline, or to lob the ball back to me, but she didn’t even pause before replying, “I wouldlovethat, if Max doesn’t mind picking me up.”
—
I texted:I’m here.
I still couldn’t believe she’d said yes. Not only was I surprised she had time for this, but I was certain this meeting between her and my dad was going to screw me over.
Because there was no way he wouldn’t love her.
I mean, objectively speaking, she was gorgeous and smart and funny.
What’s not to like, right?
But as much as I wanted to lead him to the idea of me being “taken care of,” I didn’t want him to have expectations for something that was never going to happen, either.
“Hey,” Sophie said as she opened the passenger door, grinning like she knew I hadn’t seen her coming. “Why did you let me say yes?”
“What?” Her long, tan, smooth legs looked really good in my front seat.
“I was being nice to your dad,” she explained, smiling like shefound the situation funny, “because I knew you’d jump in and get me out of this.”
“I didn’t knowwhatthe hell you were doing,” I said. “You need to blink in Morse code next time or something. Now the old man’s going to think it’s serious.”
“Or something,” she said, buckling her seat belt. “And I’ll act super platonic.”
“Good. And I’ll try to speed it up and move it along. Unfinished buildings are hardly exciting.”
“You don’t think so?” she asked as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“Well, actually, I fucking love them,” I admitted. “But normal people do not.”
“So do you like your job, then?” she asked. “I mean, obviously it’s the family business, but do youlikeit?”
“I actually do.”
“Ooh,” she said, apparently pleased with my answer. “What’s your favorite part?”
I glanced over. “Of my job?”
She nodded earnestly, as if she really wanted to know.
“All of it,” I said, not even hesitating. “I get to do a little of everything in my role—design, drafting, construction, finishes, furniture—so it’s this very tangible reward I get when a project is completed. I get to actually see every step in its final form.”
