AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I rolled my eyes. “We going or not?”
Charlotte stared down at the plans and tapped her finger against her chin. “Actually, maybe we should walk through one more time.”
“No. Nope.” I stood up, rolling the plans even as she tried to snatch them out of my hands. “No more, Charlotte.”
“Stop manhandling them.” She plucked them from my grasp. Almost. “What Imeantis that we should walk through one more time once William is here. If he has any suggestions, we can sneak those in before we get approval on the addendum to the plans.”
I didn’t let go right away, so there was a brief moment in which she pulled on her side, I pulled on mine, and it felt like the sexiest, strangest tug-of-war I’d ever engaged in.
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she relented first, carefully extracting her hand as her throat worked on a swallow.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling the tight pull of tension between us.
“Makes sense,” I conceded.
“Now you don’t have to be friendly to the scary woman at the office.” Charlotte reached up and patted my cheek. Hard.
I dropped the plans, snatching her gently around the wrist.
Her mouth fell open on a delicate O.
“Play nice, Cunningham,” I said quietly.
“I’m always nice,” she answered.
I gave her a look, releasing my grip.
Before she turned away, I noticed her brush her fingers against the place I’d touched.
Chapter Thirteen
BURKE
“I thought they were getting along last week,” Daphne said to Richard. She sort of whispered it, but given that Charlotte and I were facing off less than ten feet away from her aunt and the guy she refused to call her boyfriend, it was pretty easy to hear what she said.
Richard gave her a wry look. “Don’t get involved.”
Daphne held up her hands before helping him move one of the last end tables out of the final bedroom.
“It stays.” Charlotte settled her hands on her hips.
The aunt and non-boyfriend froze, looking between us.
“It goes,” I said. “Put it in the ‘for sale’ storage unit.”
Charlotte pointed at Daphne. “Remember who loves you eternally and will probably be the one feeding you when you’re ninety and can’t do it yourself.”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” Richard whispered. “I didn’t know she had it in her.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “We have forty-nine end tables. We don’t need it.”
Charlotte scoffed. “We have half that many.”
With absolute glee, I marched over to the side of the room. Picked up her laptop. Handed it to her. “Check your stupid spreadsheet.”
“My spreadsheet is not stupid,” she said hotly.
“You’re right,” I conceded. “I actually love that spreadsheet, especially since it’s about to prove me right.”
