A flush burns up my neck. “Sir, I don’t know why—”
“And before I forget,” he says, cutting me off, “I had a nice chat with Joshua Cartwright the other night.” He shakes his head like he’s embarrassed. “And apparently, he dazzled the other partners too. We’ve decided to represent him after all. Good job reeling him in. Now if we could rep his architecture firm, I’ll be even more delighted.”
He taps my desk and strolls out of my office like he didn’t just detonate the biggest What The Fuck Just Happened bomb in my face.
13
Josh
“Dude, you totally got laid. I’m calling it. Your cocktapus touched human flesh, and I’m not talking about the skin on your palm.”
“Fuck off, Drew.” I’m standing outside in the early morning drizzle, unlocking my office and pushing open the door. Since he is nowhere near housebroken, let alone civilized, Drew calls whenever the hell he wants, including well before eight in the morning. He was attempting to get me to join him for breakfast—chorizo and egg burritos at Luisa’s—but I refused. I’ve got work to do, and I’m not a slave to his stomach. Unlike him.
But he persists. “No. I can tell. The mopey-ass Joshua we’ve had to live with for months has taken a much-needed vacation to the Cayman Islands. Ladies and gentlemen, smiley emoji Josh-man has entered the building.”
Thing is, I am smiling, and I have entered my building. I can’t hide the cheer in my voice, even if he can’t see me through the phone. Frankly, I haven’t stopped grinning since I left Evie’s house yesterday. I’ve just felt happy.
Whatever I thought about her before—how smart she was, how funny, how beautiful—was nothing compared to the experience of getting to know her intimately. Seeing how responsive she was, how she didn’t hide anything from me, how frantic we were for each other. Multiple times. Once I kissed her, it was like I’d pushed an “on” button that I didn’t know existed in women generally, but especially not in her.
She’s different. Special. Gorgeous. And now that I’ve experienced all sides of her, I can’t let her go.
Even after I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I found myself Googling architectural salvage stores in the greater Portland metropolitan area to see if there were any I didn’t know about. I even used that damned Pinterest account to look for inspiration for her restoration projects, starting a board for her. And last night’s blog post was dedicated to her, even though all I’d said was, “That dress was amazing. See what she did to me?”
That got tens of thousands of comments. First time I’d mentioned a woman since I started the blog.
I turn on the lights, then look around. No one here yet, of course. While I love my job, today I just want to spend all my time with her.
“Is there something you want?” I ask Drew, trying to muster annoyance, but I’m not really bothered. Even though he’s a pain in the ass, he’s my pain in the ass. Besides, I don’t think I could get rid of him if I tried.
“I could go for a five-foot-ten blonde with a libido the size of Canada. But since that won’t happen, guess I’ll have to settle for housemade pico de gallo.”
Heading down the hall to my office, I shrug off my suit jacket, hang it up behind the door, and turn on my computer, feeling the best I’ve felt about a Monday morning in a long time.
Even though he’s my best friend, I don’t want to tell him about Evie. She’s too amazing, and this is too new. But I know I can’t keep shit from him, so I’ll tell him something vague tonight. “I can’t do breakfast, but you can come by for dinner. Bring something.”
“Deal.” I hear him slurp on a straw. Seriously? A soda this early? He belches. “Have you found an attorney yet to represent your dick?”
Wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder, I sort through memos on my desk. “No. And I need one. I got the package with the contract emailed to me already.”
He laughs hard. “We already know you’ve got a package.”
I groan—thank God no one else can hear him—and pointedly ignore him. “And they are waiting for a snail-mail address to send the prototype kit. Guess I could get a P.O. box—”
“Prototype kit? To make your own dildo?”
“Yeah.”
If one had thought it was impossible for Drew to laugh any harder in the morning, one would’ve been wrong. I hold the phone away from my head to avoid hearing damage. When he finally calms down, I circle back to the point. “If you can find a referral, someone discreet, unlike you, I’d appreciate it.” But he knows I don’t mean the part about him not being discreet. While Drew is uncouth, he is one of the only people I trust. Guess not ratting each other out all those times in school when we put salt in the napkin dispenser led to an unspoken agreement: we will never tell each other’s secrets. He and I are in our own Fight Club. We do not share outside of ourselves.
“I’ll do that, then tonight Imma let you tell me all about the biddie who saw your mansnake,” he says, and I groan again.
“Do you have anything else you want to say, fool? Because some of us need to work.” I’m tempted to put the phone on speaker to free up my hands to type, but with him that’s too dangerous, even if no one’s in the office yet.
“You didn’t deny it, I see.”
At this point, I’m not sure why I put up with him. “Just fucking find me a lawyer, please?”
I hear the rattling of ice and the way his straw sucks on nothing. “Will do. And kebabs. Tonight, I’m bringing kebabs.”
“Awesome,” I say, and hang up.
A few hours later, the once-quiet office buzzes with the low din of keyboards typing and conversations, and is scented with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee, the third pot today. I’m absorbed in the movie theater design for that project in Sellwood when the buzz of my cell rouses me from a creative stupor.
It’s her.
“Evie,” I say, the smile still in my voice. Damn, it warms me up to hear from her. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
She pauses, then exhales, and I can immediately tell that something is off.
“What is it, babe?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Actually, it’s good news, I guess,” she says flatly. “It’s just big news. I’d rather tell you in person. Can you meet me at The Coffee Pot?”
I don’t need any more coffee, but I’ll meet her anywhere.
Twelve minutes later, I’m waiting in the same booth we met in before when she rushes into the restaurant in high heels, a silk blouse, and a black pencil skirt, holding a slim leather business case. Her hair is dark and tousled, and she’s not wearing much makeup, just lip gloss. She looks stunning.