“That’s perfect,” I said. “Because I’ve been dying to see you all week.”
“You have, huh?” she asked, tone suggestive.
“Yes. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you started in New York, missy,” I said playfully. “So I was calling to beg you to let me take you on a proper date.”
“Why?”
“I figured I should feed you before I break your back.”
Delia barked out a surprised laugh. “Let’s get business out of the way first,” she said. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about The Locker Room?”
“Why not your office?”
“Because too many people interrupt me here. The Overtime building is closed right now, so I can have you all to myself.”
“I like the sound of that,” Delia said. “See you in like twenty?”
“Perfect. Drive safe.”
“Will do,” she said, then the line went dead.
She showed up with a massive black bag dangling from her arm, weighed down with I didn’t even want to know what.
Women and their purses, I thought with an eye roll.
Still, I welcomed her with a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then directed her to one of the booths at the side of the room, scooting in next to her.
She withdrew her laptop, fired it up, and navigated to somesoftware that held a slideshow of her work on the so-called mood boards.
“You’ve been busy,” I mused, impressed.
“Lots of excess energy,” she said, smirking at me.
“I would’ve happily taken care of that for you, you know.”
“You offering sex this time, QB? Or are you going to put me through another hellish work out?”
I scoffed. “It wasn’thellish. Admit it, you loved it.”
“Ilovedseeing you shirtless and sweaty.”
“Just say the word, Whiskey.”
She shoved me playfully then settled her fingers on the keys of her laptop. “Work first.”
“Play later?” I quipped.
She ignored me, instead launching into her presentation.
“What happened to all of this stuff being too pretentious this far north?” I asked when she finished speaking, gesturing to the higher end finishes and luxury fabrics. Honestly, it reminded me of that place we went to in New York. I loved it, but I was confused.
“I meant the plans for the exterior,” she said with a sigh. “Inside, luxury is fine. Encouraged, even. We want warm and cozy and inviting, but also masculine and sexy. We want rustic but we don’t want people to feel like they’re in some shoddy cabin in the woods.”
“And why do we want all of that?” I was genuinely curious, especially given the stink she’d put up about the facade in that meeting with Clarke.
“To give people an experience. Your name is synonymous with wealth and fame, right? The club and Birdie’s are part of thatbrand, and this will be too. We want people to feel rich and celebrated when they come through those doors, even if they’re in the middle of nowhere, Michigan.”
