“Okay, explain to me what’s wrong with this site,” I said. “Because this will workandit won’t cost half of what the last three sites would have. And it’s solid. I walked the roofline twice, and it’s the most stable roof I’ve seen in months. And that’s saying something because I climb a lot of roofs.”
She waved at the cavernous space. “I don’t see it the way you do, Matthew, I don’t get it. How am I supposed to make this into classrooms? Where’s the playground going to go? And do you see how the floors slant? That’s gotta be expensive to fix.”
I paused, expecting a dozen more complaints. Despite wanting to peel her jeans off and fuck her against one of those brick walls, I was also in architect mode and trying to keep my client happy. My brain blew up a few times attempting to manage that line, and counting bricks was the only thing keeping me from doing wind sprints up and down the mill floor.
As if I needed to make matters more complex, there was a pussy necklace in my pocket. It was all too easy for my hand to slide in there and, without thinking, let my thumb glide over the stone.
“Those are reasonable concerns, and they’re solvable. I sketched a rough plan. You’ll see all the classrooms you requested here, along this half of the building. Look.” I handed over my graphing notebook. “And the offices and gymnasium and cafeteria here, along this side. By my math—which tends to be correct—you have space for more classrooms or offices, if you want them. And flooring is a fast fix. It doesn’t require a quarter million in steel, unlike everything else we’ve seen.”
Lauren’s arms crossed over her chest while she turned a critical eye to the design. I knew this wasn’t exactly what she wanted, and the degree of abandonment was pretty high—the rusted-out water heaters piled along one side of the building weren’t helping my case, and neither were the raccoons defending their territory in the basement.
“Oh,” she said at length. “Okay. I like that.”
“All you need here is upgraded flooring, drywall, and ventilation, and a couple green improvements. Altogether, that will cost less than the steel on the last property we checked out. You can afford this.”
“How much?”
“All in? I could ballpark it,” I shrugged. Staring at the walls, I visualized a few cost structures and scribbled a number beside the blueprint before handing it to Lauren. “Fully loaded.”
“You did that in your head.” She pointed at the number. “I didn’t see you write anything down, or use a calculator.”
Watching Lauren’s eyebrow arch, I chuckled and slipped my hands into my pockets. “Well, yeah. It’s mostly addition. Some multiplication.”
“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re anything less than freakish.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I laughed. “I can give you something more precise when I draw this up, and do some more research on the lot. The estimate might be a bit high.”
Lauren nodded and paced the perimeter. The mill’s interior was huge, and when she wandered out of sight, a thin sheen of doubt trickled into my stomach. I had seen her debating with herself at the park, and I had seen her turn to walk away. Even when she excused herself to the ladies’ room at the bakery, I contemplated whether she’d sneak out through the kitchen.
I couldn’t understand what kept pulling her away from me when all I wanted was to pull her closer.
After waking up alone, I had surveyed the wreckage of my loft—note to self: never, ever leave used condoms on the floor where it was all too easy to step on them—and took a long shower. I expected the hot spray to wash away the night, to clear my head, but if anything, each drop of water left me more tightly wound. Pacing, push-ups, emailing Erin, more push-ups, manically texting Lauren, none of it helped. Not until Erin suggested seeing Lauren.
I knew it was far from rational, but showing up with her underwear in my hand was my admittedly inarticulate way of asking “When can we do that again?”
The mechanics were secondary.
We were each too damn busy for our own good, but I’d forgo food and sleep to get her naked again, to be with her again. I didn’t care what we called it. I wanted more of those jarringly intense nights with her, but if the cautious glint in her eyes was any indication, I should have turned the project over to Patrick and let it go down as the best one-night stand in recorded history.
Lauren’s shoulder bumped mine and she handed the notebook back to me. Warmth radiated from the subtle touch, and I bumped her in return. “So, what now? You’ll call me with the final number tomorrow or Monday, and we’ll figure out how to get started here?”
I grinned. “Or you can just come back to my place and I’ll do it today.”
“I can’t.”
I waited for more explanation, but Lauren offered nothing.
“Okay.” I nodded and stepped away from her, deciding to focus on photographing the plumbing and duct work instead of deciphering another layer of Lauren. I pointed my phone at a serpentine cluster of pipes in the corner and snapped a few pictures before turning back to her. “Actually, no. Is that you can’t—you don’t want to? Or is that you can’t—you have something else going on?”
“I have a thing.”
Tell me you don’t have a date. Say you’re not seeing some guy tonight.
I crossed one arm over my chest and rasped my other hand against my jaw, waiting, while Lauren fidgeted with her scarf. Those fucking scarves. It was as if she was intentionally putting a barrier between her breasts and me, intentionally killing my joy. “I can find some tequila if that sways the odds in my favor.”
“Hilarious as always, Matthew.”
She walked toward the windows, the afternoon sun catching her hair and illuminating every shade of blonde. Her phone in her hands, she typed and toggled through screens, the topic dismissed.
