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I duck my head to hide my blush. "Oh, okay."
I'm walking into the bank an hour later with Alba and Leah when I ask, "What are we doing here?"
Leah answers first. "We have an appointment with Mr. Sinclair about a loan."
Confused, I ask, "A loan?"
"Yeah, for the store," Alba tells me.
I stop Alba just outside the entrance. "You're married to Gabriel. And you," I add, pointing to Leah, "are a Volkov."
Leah shrugs. "Alba and I decided we wanted to do this independently."
"Oh." I smile, but it quickly fades. "How'd your husbands take that?"
Leah snorts. "Nikolai was not happy."
"And Gabriel blew a fuse and tried to go all alpha on me," Alba adds.
"I bet." I can't hold back my giggle. "So, how did you two manage to get them to agree?"
The two women eye each other with grins and a knowing look, then say in unison, "We have our ways," followed by laughter.
I can see the moment Mr. Sinclair calls us into his pretentious office; he will be a problem.
"There's just not much I can do for you."
"But if—" Alba goes on to say only to have Mr. Sinclair cut her off.
"You, ladies, could apply again in a year. Or I suggest bringing your husbands down to apply for you. A loan this size—"
Having had enough of this sexist asshole bulldozing my girls, I interrupt him the same way he has done Leah and Alba each time they’ve tried to speak, from the moment we sat down. Without moving from my seat and with a calm tone, I ask, "What makes you think Mrs. Martinez and Mrs. Volkov can't financially handle a loan of that size, Mr. Sinclair?" I grin when his brow furrows in confusion at Leah’s and Alba's married names. Everyone who works at this bank knows who the Volkovs and the Martinezes are.
"There must be some confusion. The names stated on the application are Winters and Jameson," he sputters. Judging by the sweat beading on his forehead, it clicked in his tiny little brain just who are sitting in his office.
"Those are mine and Alba's maiden names," Leah informs Mr. Sinclair.
"That's right," Alba adds. "The LLC for my graphic design business is under my maiden name, Jameson."
The prick behind the desk starts to sputter. "I…I'm sorry, Mrs. Martinez and Mrs. Volkov. I had no idea."
"Chad, what in the world is going on here?"
We all turn to the door to see Mr. Lawrence, who I know to be the President of Polson Regional Bank, standing in the open doorway of Mr. Sinclair's office.
"Nothing is going on, Mr. Lawrence. Just a little misunderstanding." Chad nervously laughs.
"Actually, Mr. Sinclair told Mrs. Martinez and Mrs. Volkov that he can't possibly approve them for the loan they very much qualify for."
"No, no. That's not—"
The asshole is cut off again by Alba. "That's exactly what happened. You barely glanced at our application, and then you insulted us by suggesting we have our husbands come down and do business with you."
"You know." I cut my eyes to Alba and Leah with a grin. "You should ask Nikolai and Gabriel to chat with Mr. Sinclair, after all."
"No." Mr. Lawrence rushes fully into the office. "That won't be necessary. Please, Mrs. Volkov and Mrs. Martinez, come to my office, and I will handle everything from here."
The three of us gather our things as a red-faced Mr. Lawrence turns back to his colleague. "Chad, you're fired."
