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Chapter Sixteen
Talia
Eureka!
I finally find the loungers I want for the pool area at the night spa. They’re within budget, thanks to a motivated salesperson, and after a quick phone call to Jarod for approval, I type in the credit card information on the website to finalize the purchase.
That only took a month, I think with an eye roll. For a hot second, I worried we’d have to do the grand opening with lawn chairs from the discount store instead.
The pieces are coming together. I was personally involved in choosing the statue for the meditation room and, after going back and forth a dozen times, I opted for a golden Buddha. I nearly chose a koi fish statue instead. In the end, a smiling Buddha seemed more on theme, and Archer agreed.
It’s done nothing but rain today. I’m in the wading pool room, perched on the edge of one of the sampler loungers that helped seal my decision. It’s wrapped in plastic and is going to stay that way until we open. The seat is cream-colored and I don’t want to risk it getting dirty. My neck is bent over my brand-new laptop—a splurge, but I needed it—as I make a detailed list of tasks that need to be done before we open. Fat raindrops beat the windows, matching my rhythm as I peck the keys. Number one on my list? The wading pool needs water.
“Wildflower, you done?” Archer’s voice bounces off the empty pool sides as he steps into the cavernous room.
“Almost.”
Like whenever I hear his voice, chills run the length of my body. He’s become my partner in several senses of the word. In business, in the bedroom. Having a partner in either area is a strange yet welcome dynamic. I try not to focus on how strange or how welcome it is.
He looks good today—but then, he looks good every day. I should’ve grown used to his presence by now, but am almost taken aback whenever I see him. He’s so attractive, it’s alarming. You’d think I’d be accustomed to his bearded, muscled hotness since he struts into my townhouse daily with barely a knock to announce himself. Not so. Each morning, my belly drops, my nipples tighten, and my breath catches.
I’ve been sleeping at his house on and off. He’s slept at mine on and off. Not every night or anything, as neither of us is particularly clingy. He’s traveled for work some and stayed overnight in Columbus twice. Those nights I retreated to my laptop, designing business cards or tinkering with the website I’ve yet to launch. I contacted Prisha to ask for help with it. I’m fantastic at spotting what looks good, but HTML and CSS are outside my wheelhouse. Hers too, she admitted, but her boyfriend, Malik, is a web designer. He’s been a huge help.
It’s starting to feel real, the LLC. Every time I think about the possibility of it working out long-term, my insides jump with a combination of excitement and fear. Excitement because trying something new is enthralling and motivating. Fear because I’ve grown acquainted with failing miserably over the years and would rather not repeat the experience.
“You up for an adventure?” Archer folds his arms over his chest and regards me with an expression I can’t quite read. He also makes my insides jump—for exactly the same reasons as the LLC.
We don’t do anything particularly adventurous. Our business dinners out end up with us in bed together. Private dinners at home end up in the same place. We haven’t put a label on what we’re doing, and I’m finding it necessary not to label it right now. Labeling leads to planning, and planning leads to thoughts I’d rather not entertain. As I said, I’m acquainted with failing miserably. What Archer and I have is uncomplicated. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Depends.” He smirks. “How much energy do you have?”
I close my laptop and stand. “This sounds like a trick.”
“I thought we could go out and celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, and then gestures around the nearly empty pool room. “We’re almost done.”
“The list on this laptop says we are very much not almost done.”
He takes the computer from me and kisses my mouth. Automatically I lean in for more, but he leaves me hanging. “You have to celebrate as you go. You need a break. I need a break. Plus, I thought you’d like to see how the nightlife kingpin earned his name.”
I bring my folded hands to my open mouth, trying not to look or sound too excited. “You’re taking me to one of your clubs?”
I’ve been asking, but he keeps telling me we’ll go “later.” In his defense, he is involved with a lot of projects at one time. I understand how it might not be relaxing for him to visit a nightclub. Kind of how it’s not relaxing for my sister to visit a restaurant.
“Club Nine. That was the request, right?” He hoists a knowing eyebrow.
I nod. Ever since Vivian mentioned it, I haven’t been able to stop imagining going there.
A few hours later, we enter Club Nine. I’m as excited as I was when I went on my first trip to Disney World. It’s almost as big of a spectacle as Disney World, with its neon lights and gaudy fake palm trees outside the building. Inside, music thumps from unseen speakers in the fog-filled room.
“Finally, you in your element,” I call to him over the noise. It’s nine thirty, early by club standards, but the place is packed.
He has a hold of my hand and pulls me to him. “Drink?”
