Ahh. That explained it—competitor.
“Hunter Pruitt,” I said without providing further explanation. I returned my attention to the couch and coffee table.
“Are you here on business or pleasure?” he asked her.
I wondered how she’d answer. I didn’t want to undermine her credibility with a fellow professional. But I also didn’t want him to think she was available. Because she wasn’t. She was mine—at least in the bedroom.
“Hunter is a client,” she said.
“It’s a bit late for couch shopping, isn’t it?”
I didn’t like what he was implying. It might be true, but our relationship was our business. No one else’s. And I knew how important Lauren’s business reputation was to her. I would never want to undermine that, especially not to a douchebag like him.
So, I took the opportunity to interrupt. “I work long hours. Lauren was kind enough to accommodate my schedule.”
He seemed miffed by my response.Mission accomplished.
“Lauren’s such a hard worker. She always goes above and beyond for her clients. Don’t you?” He turned back to her, and I sensed there was some hidden meaning I didn’t understand. “Must be why she’s being featured in an international design magazine.”
“Yes. I know. My house is being photographed for it.” If my grin was smug, I didn’t care.
“There’s a lot riding on that feature,” he said, turning to Lauren.
She gnashed her teeth, and again, it felt like they were speaking in code. “Indeed.”
“It’s great exposure,” I said, interrupting their tense stare-off. “And I feel privileged to be working with such an accomplished and talented designer.”
Lauren smiled up at me, and I felt as if I’d won the lottery. Meanwhile, Luther’s smile morphed into something more akin to a sneer.
“Luther is also being featured,” Lauren said.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “May the best man—”
“Or woman,” she cut him off, and I bit back a laugh.
“Win.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. He seemed like the type of guy who always had to have the last word. Immature. Attention-seeking. Annoying.
I was tempted to come to her defense, but I knew better. A woman like Lauren—a strong, independent badass—could fight her own battles. And speaking up in her defense was likely to piss her off. Better to lend my silent support for now.
“Well, I’m sure you have a lot ofworkto do,” he said, and I didn’t like his inflection or the implication. “So, I’ll leave you to it.”
He turned to me. “Hunter, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
I grunted in response, not even being polite enough to return the sentiment. He turned and walked away, the soles of his shoes echoing against the floor.
Lauren pointed out one of the floor lamps, but apparently Luther wasn’t done. He was only a few feet away when he sucked air through his teeth. “Mm. Brass. Are you sure?”
I leaned in and spoke in her ear. “Is he always such an asshole?”
She laughed, and I was glad to see her relax. “I don’t think he knows any different. He’s just trying to get in my head and make me lose.”
“Lose?” I asked as I heard his footsteps finally recede. “Lose what?”
“Well, I told you the editors and readers vote on which design was their favorite, right?”
I followed her over to a display of picture frames and candles. “You did. Is that all? It sounded like this was more personal.”
