Like an instinct, I paste a sickly-sweet smile on my face. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
One corner of James’ mouth curls. “That’s what I like about you, Ava. Always a go-getter. Nothing fazes you.”
Praise from a man with scruff and a suit should send a swirl of heated butterflies whipping through my gut. I feel . . . nothing. Officially, today is the day I declare my hormones are dusty and tired and broken.
I’m nearly twenty-nine and no one has sent my heart to my throat like . . . someone else who I refuse to think about another second.
I’m about to thank James politely, in a professional way, when he blurts out, “Carlos will have Carina occupied for at least an hour in there. Want to get coffee?”
My grin falters. It never gets any easier letting someone down. James is such a nice guy, and he ticks all my boxes except that measly, annoying box called passion.
“She doesn’t have time for a coffee.” Annika marches into the front office like a harbinger of bad omens. She slips on her headset and folds into her chair. “Sit, Ava. We have a lot of paperwork to get through, thanks to your disaster.”
James gives my forearm a reassuring squeeze, mouths he’ll text me later, and makes his way back to his spacious office with the IT manager and social media guru, who never comes up for air from behind her computer. He will be at peace doing all his engineering, structural viability magic that keeps the foundation of this company running.
The instant he’s gone, Annika wheels on me. “You screwed up royally.”
“I did not. In fact, from the review online, the Marks family is very pleased with the work I did.”
Annika scoffs. “You had the SWAT team barge into a client’s home.”
“SWAT was never there.”
“Not to mention unapproved people on the jobsite.”
“Annika, I’m not the first one to bring help to a job. I needed help with larger items and made sure the job was done.” I take a deep breath, bringing my tone back to a professional level. “Now, what will I be doing in the office?”
I’m certain she mutters something likewasting my timeunder her breath, but I don’t really care to push the envelope. She can pout all she wants. I’m still not setting her up with my brother.
An hour later and it looks like my duties in the office include: making copies, answering Annika’s phone, ensuring schedules align, oh, and bringing coffee to the command center in the front.
I’m a designer with a degree in interior architecture, and I have a feeling I’ll be here for the next eighteen months at least.
Branch out.
The thought always creeps in whenever rotten days at work become tough to bear. I shake it away at once.
I’m bold and confident in a lot of things, but the fear of failure on one of my dreams is a little much to stomach right now. With players like Carina Haven in the design market, and with my dreams more focused on places like hospital wings and group homes, I’m not even positive the market is there.
Each step on the return trip down from the coffee machine is slow, almost lazy. Not my typical attitude at the office. I pride myself on keeping busy and productive. Today, I think I’d saunter for an hour if it kept me away from Annika, who is desperately trying to manifest her inner Carina.
Voices in the front slow my steps even more. A deep rasp is there. Not James, not Carlos.
I’m mishearing. I have to be.
Carina has her pitchy voice on. The one she uses when she flirts with male clients, since she thinks a woman’s best weapon in the arsenal is her sexuality. Maybe it works on some, but it’s not working on this guy.
There is something wholly satisfying that it doesn’t.
“As I said,” Carina says, more like a purr than an actual human voice. “I have no spare designers to assist you. I would love to help Dallas, I really would, but we are going to decline.”
I’d pick out the rock salt rasp that follows from a crowd anywhere. To be honest, it’s giving Carlos’s satin voice a run for its money.
“Ms. Haven, I’m going to be blunt. This project is designed to help not only at-risk and neurodiverse youth, but also kids who have auto-immune and terminal diseases. Some of these kids can’t wait.”
Knife. To. The. Heart.
“As I said, there is no one to spare,” Carina says flippantly. “I know a few other firms I can recommend to assist you. Do send Dallas my best.”
