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Smiling at the memory, I said, “Mr. Hatter. He’s the reason I love to draw.”
Tanner returned my smile with a nod. “He was a great man. I miss him.”
“We all do,” Mr. Weston stated.
“But why are you here?” I asked.
Tanner grinned. “I’ve paid him to design numerous things for me. I’m a consultant.”
I rolled my eyes.
Looking at Uncle Dirk, I asked, “And you?”
“I’m here to make sure they don’t beat up the famous baseball player and get sued.”
Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I turned and stared at my father. “Dad?”
He pointed at Bryson. “He asked me for my help. I offered it. He had no idea what architects made, and I highly doubt you paid any attention to that at your old job. So we’re all here to make sure you get paid what you deserve to be paid, and that everything is legal. At the request of Bryson.”
My brow rose. “You’re on a first-name basis, huh?”
Bryson squirmed in his seat, and my father wore a shit-eating grin.
“Oh yeah,” he said, hitting Bryson on the back. “We had breakfast this morning.”
Bryson’s face turned bright red.
I shot Bryson a dirty look. “Did you know?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Bryson didn’t reply and looked at Mr. Weston. “Should we start now?”
“I think that would be best.”
The next hour and a half was filled with talk about contracts, deadlines, budgets, and design plans. My anger quickly faded as I paid attention to all of it. My three uncles pretty much stayed quiet for the most part, except for a few times when they offered suggestions. Uncle Tanner said Mr. Hatter would charge between five percent and twenty percent of the build cost, depending on the job. Bryson and I agreed to fifteen percent even though I thought it was way too high and Bryson thought it was too low. Uncle Dirk had leaned over and whispered to me, “Let the boy pay you top dollar. He can afford it. He’s one of the highest-paid baseball players in the league.”
I stood firm and said I wouldn’t go higher than fifteen, to which Bryson finally agreed to.
“I think you should form an LLC, Rose,” Mr. Weston had stated.
Looking at the lawyer with a confused expression, I asked, “Why?”
“What if you want to start your own design company?” Bryson asked.
Staring at him, I said, “You think I could start my own business?”
“Of course. Why not?”
I glanced around the table and suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. Standing up so fast I nearly knocked the chair over, I quickly headed toward the door.
“Excuse me, I need a minute.”
The moment I pushed through the door of the balcony that was off the private lobby, I drew in a deep breath as I clung to the rail.
“Rose?”
His voice sent a rush of warmth through my entire body.
“I’m sorry, Bryson,” I gasped. “I needed a minute.”
Coming to stand next to me, he leaned against the rail, and I could feel his eyes on me.
“Talk to me.”
My head dropped, and I closed my eyes. “I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Rose, if you don’t want to design the house, I can find another person to do it. I would, however, love to have your opinion on it.”
A strange pressure in my throat started as I fought back tears. Why in the hell was I about to cry?
I drew in a deep breath and counted to ten before I looked at Bryson. My God if he wasn’t the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Why do you want me to be a part of this so bad?” I asked.
His eyes softened when he smiled, and something cracked open in my heart. “Because I want you to be a part of my life.”
“Why?” I asked again, this time narrowing my eyes at him in confusion.
He shrugged. “I felt something with you that I’ve never felt with any other woman. Call it crazy, but I feel like destiny brought us together.”
I couldn’t help but smile up at him. “It was a wonderful evening, but Bryson, I—”
Pressing his finger to my lips, he shook his head. “Stop talking for one second. I know what you’re going to say. It would never work because I live in another state, and I travel. My job. I get it. But I need to tell you something, Rose.”
My heartbeat doubled as I softly said, “Tell me.”
He turned and looked out toward the mountains. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to find the words to say what he needed to say or if he was simply taking in the moment. If it was the latter, I was going to punch him in the stomach for leaving me hanging.
Finally looking back at me, he said, “I’m most likely going to need shoulder surgery.”
I gasped.
“That means at least a year away from the game. I’d already been tossing around the idea of not renewing my contract that ends this season.”
