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I took a breath before climbing out of the car and pulled out the bag containing the presentation. I rang the bell, standing there holding the coffees in one hand, bag flung over my shoulder. As soon as the door opened, Logan stood in front of me in blue jeans and a white button-down shirt, open at the collar. He looked so crisp and clean and as I walked in and past him I caught a whiff of his cologne, the same cologne he had worn that night. I could smell something cooking and tried hard to ignore it, but my stomach gave me away by letting out a loud groan. I was starving.
“Hungry?” he asked leaning up against the wall.
“Let’s get started, shall we.” I smugly smiled and handed Logan our coffees. I removed my shoes still carrying my bag.
“We should go into the kitchen, it’s lighter in there with the proper space to lay everything out.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said walking into the living room. I looked after him, always the stubborn one, but I followed him into the living room without complaint. I put my bag down, pulled out my presentation and opened the section where I kept his designs. I lay them on the small table, and began with the room we were in.
As I went over the designs with Logan, I noticed he wasn’t saying too much, he either liked them or hated them, I couldn’t tell. He let me get through about five rooms before he made any kind of comment.
“I don’t think these will work, Miss Tate. I like nothing about modern designs.”
“Mister Lehmbeck, may I remind you, you’ve designed a modern home, and you were very quick to tell me that modern design was not only what you liked, but what you wanted.”
“I don’t want to live in a home I am afraid to touch. This is a perfect image for something that will be printed in a magazine, not lived in.”
I ignored the comment and continued onto the next few rooms, each one he quickly dismissed. I was getting rather flustered which didn’t happen often, but I had never gone back to a client and have them turn away almost all my suggestions.
“Let’s see what is next,” Logan demanded impatiently.
As I flipped to one of the last three rooms, explaining what we would do in the third bedroom, he picked up the design and threw it to the side. He then picked up the last two rooms and threw them down. “These will not do, Miss Tate.”
“Mister Lehmbeck, you gave me exactly one week to design the whole interior of this house. It was you that put me on a rushed schedule. Now if this isn’t up to your standards then perhaps you will need to find another designer or tell me what it is you truly want.”
I couldn’t help it, he was doing this on purpose, I knew it, he knew it and I knew he knew that I knew it. There was nothing wrong with what I had done, I had decorated this house to what he told me he had wanted during our consultation.
He was just about to come up with a rebuttal when the smoke detector beeped loudly. His eyes went wide, and he ran into the kitchen. I frowned wondering what the hell was going on and followed him quickly into the kitchen.
My eyes almost fell out of my head when I rounded the corner. The reason we couldn’t go into the kitchen was right before my eyes. Dirty dishes were every where, covering every surface, and Logan stood by the oven waving a towel in front of the door to dissipate the smoke that was pouring out. I tried my best to keep a straight face at the whole scene.
He turned to look at me and that was when the second over door began spewing smoke. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He shut that portion of the oven off and cracked the door, smoke billowing out. I ran for a window and cranked it open to help clear the air.
I glanced to the tiny round table in the breakfast nook and saw two place settings, candles and a bottle of wine chilling in the center.
“I didn’t know you were having company. Perhaps that is why you liked nothing I had done because you were rushing to get rid of me. We could have just rescheduled tonight.”
“I’m not. I was making you dinner. That way we could continue to go over things together afterwards. You said your day started at four and you canceled our dessert date last night, so I figured I’d feed you.”
I looked around and gave a small smile. Logan standing in front of the mountain of dishes and a complete mess of a stunning kitchen. “I see. Did your mother not teach you anything?”
“I never took much interest in learning how to cook, Gingersnap.” He shrugged and looked around the kitchen at the mess that was before us.
“Let’s face it, Logan, I mean Mister Lehmbeck, you hate everything I have done.” I could feel my face getting hot. I was exhausted, frustrated, and the idea of having dinner alone with him, with wine was far more appealing than it should have been.
I drank back the last of the wine and relaxed back on the couch as Logan looked over all my designs again. “You don’t really hate them all, do you?” I questioned.
“Honestly, I think they are great.”
“You do?” I normally let none of my insecurities show but here they were out in full force. The glass of wine I drank wasn’t helping.
“I do. I can’t wait to get started. How long do you think it will take before everything is finished?” he asked finishing his glass of wine.
“When do you need it by?” I asked, reaching for my phone.
“The end of the month,” he said looking down at another rendering.
“No worries. I’ll get ordering things right away. Call your photographer back and book in your shoot.” I glanced at my watch. “I should get going, it’s late,” I said shoving my phone back into my bag.
