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“No roof. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, no roof,” I agree as he jogs out the door. “But I’m not making any promises about the closet!”
I fall back on the bed and pull his shirt to my nose to take a whiff. It smells like fresh laundry and him, and a stupid, sappy smile curls the corners of my mouth.
I like him.
All-consuming, thought-hijacking, stalker-making kind of like, and as much as it scares me, it excites me even more.
I’d all but shut down the possibility of finding someone this compatible, someone to love me.
But it seems like, maybe, I’m not out of the game yet.
My ears perk up as Trent’s voice carries into the bedroom from the front door. It’s loud and surprised and devoid of the lazy ease of just a few seconds ago.
In fact, it sounds like the Trent I met months ago.
I lean forward, wrapping the shirt around my body just in case and listen even harder.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
Dad? Dad? Motherfucking Dad?!
As in, the boss to end all bosses who makes my billionaire boss look like a little baby boss?
Oh shit.
I jump like I’ve been electrocuted and make it from the bed to the closet in one bounding leap. I close myself in quickly and take big, gulping breaths. Unfortunately, that makes me feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.
Small, normal breaths, dummy, my brain coaches.
Of course, from my new hiding spot, I can no longer hear what they’re saying, but I don’t care. I’d much rather huddle in the dark, silent safety of the closet than hang around—almost naked—in his bedroom just waiting for his dad to walk in and find me.
Trent finds me fifteen minutes later, apology and disquiet both stark in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had no idea he was coming, but I told him I’d meet him at the hotel in twenty minutes. If I’m not there…”
“I know,” I say with a wave of my hand, eager to make him feel at least a little better. The last thing I want is to be another worry on his giant list. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get ready and then swing by the office to pick up the new samples and sketches I got in before I meet you there.”
He smashes his lips to mine gratefully and pulls away way too soon. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” I say teasingly. “You’ve got to be flexible when you’re banging the boss.”
His eyes light up, and he winks. “Tonight. We’ll see just how flexible you really are.”
The tectonic plates between my legs shift until I’m squeezing them together to fight against a full-on earthquake.
Trent smirks and grabs a suit from behind me before heading straight for the shower.
I head for home.
I’ve got a lot to do.
One Trent to support; one to impress.
There’s more at stake than a job now.
Now…it’s a job and my heart.
When we break for lunch, I’m on top of the world. Both Trents have been smiling at me all morning as I go over all of the proposed designs and elements unique to this space.
Tony, Marcus, Sarah, George, and I, we’re a well-oiled machine thanks to Junior’s new and improved leadership skills, and I can’t imagine the presentation we threw together for Senior going any better.
It is dazzling and innovative, and it makes me excited to spend the next six months making it all come to life before the opening.
I’m packing up my briefcase to head to lunch at Coastal Crepes—the secret location Trent texted me to meet him fifteen minutes ago—when I remember that I left one of my sketches down in the lobby where we stopped last with Senior.
It’s in the direction of the exit and I don’t want to forget it, so I decide to stop and get it on my way out of the building.
Down six flights from the lounge area and through the winding halls that confused me so much on the first day, I’m a few steps from the lobby when I hear Trent Senior’s voice.
When I hear my Trent say something in return, I freeze on the spot so that I don’t interrupt their conversation.
“You’re doing a good job here, Trent,” Senior says, and I can’t help but smile. I know how rocky their relationship has been and what doing a good job means to Trent. Hearing praise from his dad has to make him feel so good. “The staff respects you. I can tell you’ve won them over and they’re working hard. You’re keeping the timeline tight, and the jobsite looks good and clean. All in all, I’m impressed with what you’ve done down here.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from squealing for my guy. He has worked hard, and he deserves to hear it from his father.
“Thanks, Dad. It’s really been a team effort.”
