Me:Only if you date mine.
Me::*
I sigh and turn my phone off, forcing myself to resist the temptation to keep scouring the internet for him, and I set it on the nightstand next to me.
I havegotto get over this guy.
SIX
Davis
The car is silent, but I can still feel Rowan’s eyes burning a hole into mine through the rearview mirror. After a few moments too many, I finally lift my gaze to meet hers and arch an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” I ask.
“You’re not gonna try to find her? Seriously?”
“No, darlin’, I’m not gonna try to find her,” I tell her. “It was a fling. It’s over.”
“Now that’s bullshit and you know it,” Colt scoffs from the seat next to me. “You have told me about ‘meeting someone’ maybe twice in all of the years that I’ve known you. This included. So fling, my ass.”
It is bullshit, and I do know it, but there’s nothing more for me to do. I already tried looking her up; a beautiful woman like that has to have a following of some sort somewhere. I even gave one of the clerks in the office her name and a description with the sole task of fucking finding her for me, but out of all of the Noelles she came up with, none of them were mine. Not even fucking close. My own perpetual scrolling turned up jack shit.
I should have left it well enough alone when she didn’t show, but whatever happened between us was so goddamn hypnotic, for both of us I thought, I at least wanted to know why the coldfeet. I don’t get stood up; I do the standing up, so what the fuck gives?
“Whatever it was,” I grumble, “it’s done.”
“See, baby?” Colt says, turning back to face his wife, resting a hand on her knee. “I told you it was his turn to be the cranky one.”
“I’m not fucking cranky,” I snap, earning laughter from the pair of them.
I need to get out of this truck, and I need to get some pussy.
At least I can look forward to this meeting. Normally, I’m not the guy who gets stoked on the structural side of things; just put up some walls, slap some paint on ‘em and call it a day. But this little club is my pet project, and I’m actually really looking forward to giving my input. I’ve been thinking about it since I planted the seed months ago, before we even bought the previous building. This is my baby.
The ground is nothing but foundation and some basic framing, now that the original structure has been demoed, but I can see the idea taking final shape in my mind the second we walk onto the plot.
I quickly ditch my companions and look around for Logan and his team so I can run some ideas by them about the exterior and overall build of the place.
“I want to see twenty-five, thirty foot ceilings, a three-sixty bar at the center. Big enough for six or seven people to have plenty of room to tend the bar.” I walk around the plot with my hands locked behind my back, thinking. “You know what, draw up a lounge area separate from the VIP. Lounge on the west, VIP to the south, behind the bar. That’s where we’ll have the employee lounge, behind the VIP. Make it easy for the bottle service to freshen up and get out on the floor.”
“Sweet deal,” Logan comments, using a pencil to make a rough sketch onto a large roll of paper. “I’ll draw up a couple designs and bring ‘em to you by Friday. We thinking something upper crust, more modern, or speakeasy vibes?”
“Modern,” I answer quickly. “Definitely modern. We want everyone to want in here bad enough we gotta kick ‘em out for using fakes. Throw in top-of-the-line security tech, too, while you’re at it. Another info leak like we had with the collective, and we’re toast.”
Two years ago, the entire client list for our art collective was leaked, their personal details along with it. We’ve never fired so many people in one day – hell, not even in a full year. We don’t fire our employees unless they break policy, and failing to protect our clients’ private information definitely falls under that umbrella.
Shooting me a grin, Logan says, “Make that Wednesday,” and he rolls the paper back up to tuck it under his arm.
As he heads off to speak with his team, I call Rowan over and ask her to take down some notes while we walk over the plot. She jots down some detailed notes on her little tablet while I spout off ideas on flooring, color schemes, furniture – anything that comes to mind as I walk through the space I’ve planned out in my head.
I don’t want to speak too soon and say that I’m really enjoying this, but if it comes to life the way I imagine it, well, that will be pretty fucking cool.
Rowan impressively makes it about a half an hour before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and clutching her tablet to her chest, skipping ahead to match my pace. “You know, maybe this whole Cancun thing was just a sign,” she says. “Maybe you’re ready to settle down. I could set you up. My friend Mariah is single, she’s cuteandshe’s looking.”
“I know Mariah.”
“Yeah! She works with us,” she continues. “She’s really sweet, and super outgoing. I think you’d like her!”
“IknowMariah, darlin’,” I repeat. I raise my brows to emphasize my point, and a look of sudden horrified realization crosses her face.
