From his position at the head of the table, he cocks a dark brow. “Thank you for joining us, Lauren.” His voice is low and even as always, but I can hear the hint of irritation under the words.
My face burns. Dane is a fair boss but a bit of a hard ass, and he doesn’t like tardiness. “Sorry,” I say, shuffling to the empty seat near the end of the table. I don’t bother offering up an excuse for why I’m late. It doesn’t matter.
Emme, my assistant, gives me an apologetic smile. I shake my head and flash a quick grin at her in response. It’s not her fault I’m late—she knocked on my door ten minutes ago to remind me about the meeting, but I got caught up in finishing the last touches for the specs I’m working on. It has to be perfect.
We discuss old business for the first twenty minutes or so. Carl, as usual, won’t stop interrupting Dane with his opinion on everything, and I find my mind wandering as I gaze around the table. Dane’s new personal assistant, Carlita, clacks away on her tablet to take notes. She’s an older woman, a little on the quiet side, but I like her. She’s professional and no-nonsense, exactly what Dane needs. Not that Emme did a bad job or anything when she was working with him. She’s been a great assistant to me, a real help for this project. Sometimes I still find it hard to believe she and Dane are together. But I have to admit, he’s been a lot more laidback and friendly in the last few months since they became exclusive. She’s been a good influence on him.
“Lauren?” Dane is saying, and I blink, pulled out of my meandering thoughts into the topic at hand. “How is the redesign for Mickey’s Pub going?”
Shit. Focus! I shuffle through my papers to find my notes. “It’s going great so far. I’m going to send the design to Bart for review and approval, and then I’ll contact the client and show them my redesign.”
He gives a curt, approving nod. “Sounds good. I’d like to see it before you send it to them, as well.”
“No prob, boss.”
Dane moves on to Carl, asking him how progress on one of his accounts is going. At the sound of Carl’s nasal drone, the way he keeps smoothing the hair over his balding spot, how his shirt buttons are gaping over his belly, I find myself fighting the urge to roll my eyes. He goes on for a good minute about how much the client loves everything he’s doing, blah blah blah.
I feel pretty confident that my clients Mickey and Xander Halloway—my best friend Cole’s father and older brother, respectively—are going to love what I’ve done. I’ve given them exactly what they’ve asked for. Cole’s dad bought the bar just before Cole enlisted in the army ten years ago, and while it’s been doing better than they dared to hope, they’re ready to take business to the next level and draw a younger, hipper clientele. Enter moi. The two men want to expand the kitchen, redesign the layout of the main level, and add a patio area onto the back.
I can’t wait to hear what they think of my specs. I want everything to go right; they’re practically family to me. I’ve known them seventeen years, after all.
Which reminds me, I should send Cole a text later and see what that asshole is up to. He’s been MIA lately. Actually, since he left the army about six months ago, I haven’t talked much to him. Funny how we were in better communication when we were thousands of miles and an ocean apart.
“Any other new business?” Dane asks.
Carl goes to open his mouth, but I shoot him a glare. For once, he takes the hint and stays quiet. We all just want to get out of here and go to lunch, but Carl will keep us in this room another half-hour as he pontificates about why we need to go after this business or that client, and how he’s “just the man to do it.”
Dane stands and tells us the meeting is adjourned, and we shuffle out behind him.
“I can’t wait to hear what the architect thinks about the design for Mickey’s Pub,” Emme says as she sidles up to me. Her smile is wide, and her light, curly hair is pinned back in a loose twist. Dane’s been good for her too, now that I think about it. She’s much more open and assertive, friendlier, less withdrawn. I remember how quiet and shy she was when she first started working here.
“You’ve been a huge help on this,” I tell her in earnest. “Your ideas on how to use that patio to maximize its limited space were great. I love the idea of putting a round fireplace in the middle and building the tables in a concentric pattern from it.” And I know Xander’s dad will love that too, since he wanted a fireplace out there, one of his specific requests.
Her cheeks flush. “It’s no big deal.” But I can see the pleasure from my compliments reflected in her sparkling eyes. “So, we still on for tonight? I’m looking forward to a margarita or two.”