10

Cash

A needle of anxiety threads its way up my spine as I approach the café. One, because of the super flirty waitress I’d like to never see again, and two, because I’m meeting Britta.

Alone.

There will be no buffer between us during this lunch. It will be just me and her, duking it out with our snarky remarks and sarcastic quips. I’m not even really sure what I was thinking when I begged her to let me meet her, other than I don’t know of any other interior designers who have the immediate availability to fix my office.

And there’s the little voice in the back of my brain telling me I’m doing a good thing by hiring her while simultaneously trying to mend our broken acquaintanceship. We might be too far gone to accomplish the latter, but it’s at least worth a try.

For A.J. and Liss’s baby’s sake.

We’re going to be his godparents, for crying out loud. We can’t continue to ice each other out if we hope to be a good influence on the little guy. And I’m done with the awkward family get togethers. I’d at least like to be done with whatever ill will is between us.

Despite what Britta may think, I do have a conscience. And making a difference in other people’s lives like my dad did for me is my ultimate goal. To be able to influence in a kid’s life for the better—my godson’s life—is a gift. I don’t want to waste that opportunity.

I pull the café door open and spot Britta immediately. Her long brown hair is half up, half cascading over her shoulders in what appears to be soft, touchable waves. She’s looking down at her phone, lips pursed to the side.

My smile starts as I send her a quick text that reads Here .

Her fingers tap on her phone’s screen a second before her gaze collides with mine. An irrational amount of satisfaction washes over me as I head toward her table.

“Hi,” I say once I’m standing in front of her.

“Hi.” Her throat muscles constrict on a swallow as she quietly takes me in. “Have a seat and we’ll chat.”

I sit across from her, suddenly feeling woefully unprepared for this meeting. Something about her always catches me off guard. Maybe it’s her gorgeous hazel eyes, or that they seem to see right through me. Her beauty is intimidating, but it’s more than that…It’s almost as if…

“Are you hungry?”

I blink at the question. “Um. Yeah.” I flip open the menu just to have something to do with my hands.

A.J.’s challenge to try new things rankles at the back of my mind, but I ignore it. If there was ever a time to stick to my tried and true hamburger order, it’s now.

“I already ordered, but—”

“Well, if I didn’t know better,” a feminine voice to my right cuts Britta off, “I’d say you were trying to make me jealous.”

The same waitress from yesterday looms over me. Only instead of batting her eyelashes, she’s glaring at me with all the force of a laser meant to cut through bone.

“Do you two know each other?” Britta asks, forehead pinched.

“No, I—”

“He just left me on read, that’s all.” The waitress unceremoniously plops Britta’s salad in front of her, along with a small plate of bread. “This the someone you were waiting for?” Directing her question at Britta, the blonde hooks her thumb my way.

Britta sighs. A long, exasperated one like I’m trying her patience just by showing up. “Unfortunately, yes.”

The waitress, whose nametag says Marnie, angles herself toward me. Still glaring, of course. Because I just couldn’t have gotten lucky enough to avoid her. “And what can I get for you? Wait—” She holds up her hand like a stop sign. “Let me guess. A burger. Lettuce, tomato, onion.”

She waits for my response, silently fuming.

At my nod, she clicks her pen against her notepad, then stalks off. I’m left more stupefied and embarrassed than I’ve probably ever been.

“That was pleasant.” Britta slowly picks up her fork and begins to push the lettuce around on her plate. “I take it you two…dated?”

“No. I never even met the woman before yesterday.”

Britta lifts her gaze to mine and scoffs. “Right.”

I run a hand over the top of my head, glancing around the café to see if anyone else witnessed Marnie’s over-the-top display. “I’m telling the truth. A.J. and I came in here yesterday for lunch and she mentioned—”

I bite my tongue. Bringing up that stupid online dating profile to Britta is the literal last thing I ever want to do. The woman already thinks I’m a lowlife. Now I’m a lowlife who meets women online and goes out with them, only to never returns their texts.

“She mentioned?” Britta raises her eyebrows and waves her fork in a roundabout motion. “Please. Do go on. Your dating life is fascinating .” She spears a bite of her salad, then holds it aloft, just waiting. Watching me.

I run my tongue along my teeth and shake my head. I already hate everything about this meeting, and I’ve only been here five minutes.

“A.J. created an online dating profile for me last year,” I admit. “I never logged in because I have no desire to date.” It’s impossible to ignore the way she stiffens at my pronouncement. But right now I’m more worried about clearing my name than asking her why me not dating might bother her. “Apparently, the waitress—”

“Marnie, you mean,” Britta supplies with a self-satisfied grin.

I suppress the urge to sigh. “Fine. Apparently, Marnie messaged me on there. I never responded because, like I said, I never logged in.” I splay my hands wide. “Then I came in here with A.J., she recognized me, hit on me, I turned her down, and now we’re here.” I force out an even breath and lean back. “She likely thinks you and I are on a date.”

Britta slowly blinks those big eyes at me. “Well, it’s not a date.”

I frown. “Of course it’s not.” But why does she have to say it like the idea of us together is the most preposterous thing she’s ever heard? She’s beautiful, and I’m not exactly ugly by most women’s standards…I think we’d make a decent looking couple. I do my best to ignore the way her words hurt and try to lighten the mood.

“She’s going to spit on my burger, isn’t she?”

“Probably.” Britta goes back to her salad like it’s no big deal that I’ll be eating spit in a few minutes.

Once again, I wonder what it is about me that she hates so much. Looking at her now, all dark features and soft curves, there’s no question I’d rather have the answer to.

“So, back to this job.” Her eyes lift to mine.

“Right.” I fold my arms on the table, doing my best to focus on the reason I’m here. “My office at the training facility needs redone. It’s cluttered and disorganized and…” I sigh. “The good news is that it’s pretty much a blank canvas.”

Britta takes a sip of her drink, then nods. “All right. You need me to spruce it up?”

“Yes. I work with a lot of professional clienteles, and I want to put my best foot forward, so to speak.”

“Gotcha.” She picks up a slice of bread, and slathers on a good helping of butter with her fork. Her movements are slow and methodical. Meticulous. Borderline seductive. As soon as that adjective enters my brain, I wonder where it came from. Never have I been attracted to a woman buttering a piece of bread before.

Maybe I’m lonelier than I thought and do need to start seriously thinking about dating.

“And do you have an idea of what you want done?” she asks.

“That’s why I’m hiring you,” I say, tapping my fingers along the tabletop. “I have no idea where to start.”

She nods before taking a big bite of the crusty bread. My eyes cling to her mouth. Thankfully, Marnie steps up to our table, forcing me to drag my attention away from where it shouldn’t be.

“Here.” She shoves my plate in front of me before standing back, hands on her hips. “Anything else you two need?”

I eye my food with a grimace.

“Well,” she says, “If that’s all, I’ll leave you alone.” Her expression flickers with an emotion that can only be described as jealousy as she gives Britta a long, appraising look. “Honey, you might want to watch the carbs. I hear they go straight to your hips.” With that rude comment hovering in the air, she stomps off.

Anger brims inside me so fast I don’t even realize I’m on my feet until Britta catches my wrist. “Hey.” Her soft voice has me turning. “Don’t cause a scene. Just sit down and let it go.”

Let it go? My face must show my outrage because she releases a longsuffering sigh and tugs on my wrist.

“Please? If you want to speak to the manager later, fine, but can we just finish this lunch first?”

“She insulted you.” My barely ground-out words scrape across my tongue like a shovel full gravel.

“A petty woman’s insult is the least of my worries right now, Cash.” The weariness in her voice tugs at something deep inside me.

“Fine.” I relax back into my seat, barely able to turn down the flame on my anger. How dare she try to make Britta feel bad, all in the name of jealousy? It’s one thing to be rude to me, but another matter entirely when you’re rude to my date.

I mean…friend. Er— friend of a friend ?

“Anyway,” Britta says as if Marnie didn’t try to ruin our lunch. “I’ll have to see the office to know what we’re going for, but I think I can do what you’re asking. Are you on any sort of timetable?”

“Ah, no. I’d just like it done sooner rather than later.”

“So, can I start next week?”

Some of the tension from earlier eases at hearing she’ll be able to get started right away. “That’d be perfect.”

“Okay. Can I come by tomorrow to check it out and go over materials with you?”

I mentally run through my plans. “That should work. I have a one-hour break at ten if that works for you.”

“That’ll work.” She takes another sip of her iced tea, holding the straw with her pale-yellow painted fingernails. They’re a different color than they were at the party. It’s a dumb fact I shouldn’t know, but everything about her catches my attention. I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

“As for the cost involved,” she continues, “I charge all my clients based on hours worked, plus materials. Larger jobs obviously cost more since they take more of my time and effort to accomplish.”

“Okay.”

“Once I’m able to see what I’ll be working with, I should be able to give you a rough estimate.”

“Sounds good.” No red flags yet.

“And one last thing.” She adjusts in her seat and clears her throat. “If I agree to work for you and you’re happy with the final product, would you be willing to write out a testimonial for me?”

I scratch my beard, shocked she’d even trust me enough to do that for her. “I can do that.”

“And would you be willing to refer me to any of your clients who may comment on your workspace’s newfound beauty?”

“ Beauty ?”

She tilts her head like a warning, and I can do nothing but comply.

“Okay, yes. I’ll give your name to everyone who walks in my office. I’ll even keep a stack of your shiny little business cards on my desk for anyone who wants one. Good?”

A slow, satisfied smile curves her lips upward. “Perfect.”

I toss a few fries in my mouth, but it’s not long before a weighty pause settles between us.

“So…is that all you wanted to talk about?” she asks, eyeing me over her drink.

A weird, gnawing ache grows in my stomach, reminding me that I am, in fact, starving. The twenty-ounce travel mug of coffee I drank earlier and the few fries I’ve eaten aren’t cutting it. I remove the bun from my burger to see if there’s a loogie waiting for me. Anything to avoid the death stare Britta’s giving me right now.

Once I see that the burger appears fine, I slowly move my gaze to hers. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

I get the feeling there is by the way she posed the question. Well, that and the fact that her brown butterscotch eyes are narrowed to near slits as they examine me.

“Oh, no. Just thought maybe there was an issue you wanted to address.” She goes back to picking at her salad, and I wonder if maybe she’s referring to our truce.

Maybe she’s waiting for me to bring it up.

“Okay, let’s talk about us .”

Her eyes dart to mine and she swallows. “Okay.”

It might be my imagination, but she looks a little pale all of a sudden. Better just get this over with. “We’re both going to be Ace’s godparents, and it only seems right that we find a way to get along.”

She gives me a slow nod. “Is that the name they’re going with, then? Ace?”

I shrug. “That’s what A.J. says.”

The slight smile she aims my way makes me wish I could bring it out more often. “It’s cute. I like it.”

You’re cute, I think. And I might even be able to like you if you weren’t so bent on hating me.

“I like it, too,” I say instead of giving voice to my crazy inner monologue. “So, since we’re going to be present in each other’s lives, and Ace’s, I think it’s best if we come to a truce.”

One dark eyebrow arches in question. “That’s it? You want us to come to a truce?”

Once again, I feel as if I’m missing something. “Well, yeah.” What else is there? It’s not like I’m going to beg her to be my friend like I did with Becky Hurst in second grade. Britta’s a grown woman. If she wants to dislike me, fine, but I don’t want our mutual disdain to bleed into our relationship with Ace.

“Got it. Consider us at a truce.”

My body stiffens on instinct. Not sure why since this is what I wanted. Still, I can’t shake the weird feeling that I’m missing something. I’m convinced it’s just because I’m hungry.

“All right, then. Tomorrow?”

“Yep.” She twirls the straw in her drink. “Tomorrow.”