His gaze moves, sliding down me until it rests on the sketch I stopped on. “This one,” he says, tapping one of the pages, the veins beneath his skin shifting.“This is strong. More elevated than your usual work, and your usual work is already elevated. This is exactly what I wanted.”
My cheeks heat as I shift in my stool. “That’s what I was going for. Wearable, but could appeal to both fans at games and the average soccer mom.”
“I can tell. It’s fantastic.”
The praise sinks into me, settling warm in my stomach, and I realize far too quickly that I enjoy being praised by him far too much. I want to hear it again, and again, and again.“Thank you,” I murmur, keeping my voice low on the off chance it decides to waver.
He leans back a little, eyes moving over the pages again. “You’re good at this.”
Fuck. He can’t keep complimenting me. It’s unfair.I lean one elbow on the desk, trying to cover my cheeks with my hands, knowing damn well they’re betraying me right now. “I’m trying to live up to the promotion you gave me,” I say, covering the words with a breathy chuckle, trying to sound normal.
He’s quiet for a second before he speaks again.“You’re far surpassing my expectations already. Both here and at the office.”
It’s not the compliment this time. No, it’s far worse than that— it’s the way he looks at me like he genuinely believes the words he’s saying andwantsto say them to me. My throat closes in just a little, threatening to make me choke.
He reaches behind him, popping open a cabinet and plucking out a bottle of wine and two thin glasses. “Celebratory glass?” he asks, already plucking the corkscrew out of a drawer in his desk. “For already having all of this done before I even needed it.”
I blink at him. “You keep a wine stash in your office?”
“One bottle doesn’t qualify as a stash.”
“Fine, emergency bottle, then.” I grin, gratefully taking a glass when he offers it to me.
His lips quirk up at the corner. “Less emergency bottle and more for mini, solo celebrations.”
“Not solo tonight.”That slips out before I can stop it. I flick my eyes away, taking a sip to hide my cheeks again. It’s dry, bold, bursting with tannins and fruitiness. It’s almost certainly more expensive than I would ever buy for myself.
I can feel his eyes on me, can hear his soft, almost surprised exhale. “No. Not solo tonight,” he says, clinking his glass against mine once before taking a sip himself. “Can’t say I’m particularly upset about that.”
Zoe’s words from this morning hit me like a freight train.He’s trying not to be interested.
“Did you always want to do this?” he asks, resting his free arm on the armrest of his chair and resting his ankle on his knee, relaxed, comfortable in his own skin in his own home.
My throat goes dry. “Design?”
He nods.
“Pretty much,” I say, lifting one knee up to my chest, resting my foot on the edge of the stool. “I used to have these sketchbooks as a kid, ones that had the body already printed and you’d just design outfits on top of it. I was obsessed.”
“Not surprised,” he grins. “I got Penny one of those, but it’s hard to design a cohesive outfit when you’re not very good at coloring inside the lines.”
“Maybe she wants to go the avant-garde route,” I offer, grinning into my glass.
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I rest my chin on my knee, watching him, memorizing the way his eyes get softer when he’s not stoic as a rock. “Did you always want to run Sparkks?”
“Eh,” he says, shrugging, rotating the chair a little back and forth. “I played football for a long time, then started Sparkks because I thought it’d be fun. Didn’t realize just how much work it’d be, if I’m honest.”
“You thought running a business would befun?” I bite back a laugh, but it comes out as an amused huff anyway.
He rolls his eyes, but it’s not angry— if anything, it’s playful, for once, like the way he does with Penny. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it was naive. But I’m not mad I did it. It keeps me busy, made me more money than I could ever spend, secured Pen’s life forever. Worth it, if you ask me.”
“That’s fair. I’d go to war for her, and I’ve only known her a couple of weeks.” I take another sip of wine, letting it linger in my mouth a little longer. “Running a business is significantly less effort than battle.”
“You don’t have to lie to make me think you’re good with her.”
“Not a lie. She’s wormed her way into my heart already.”
