“Well, she didn’t have time to mess it up.” Tommy’s tone is all play. “Because she only just got here. And she’s been sitting in this chair the whole time.”
“Exactly.” I narrow my eyes at Tommy in warning.
James goes to the fridge and mumbles, “Cute. They have inside jokes.”
One thing is for sure: James does not like the prospect of me and Tommy together. I’ve always assumed it’s because of his loyalty to Noah and a misguided belief that Tommy will leave me heartbroken.
The sheer lunacy of that idea, though.
“Okay, party people,” Tommy says with overzealous energy and a big clap that makes my shoulders jump. “I’ve gotta get to the airport soon so that I have enough time to fill my body with a long-overdue caramel macchiato. So let’s get started.”
“Wait. You’re leaving today?” I ask in a panic as he unloads folders, papers, an iPad, and a laptop onto the table.
“This is the longest I’ve stuck it out in this bumpkin town since high school. If I don’t leave today, one of two things will happen: Either he will murder me in cold blood by tomorrow morning, or I’ll voluntarily fling myself off a cliff.”
“He’s telling the truth about the murder part,” says James.
Tommy lifts and lowers his shoulders. “We can’t have a Cainand Abel situation on your hands so close to the restaurant opening. Wouldn’t look good.”
Tommy finishes up tossing various binders and papers onto the table until it’s littered with mood boards, fabric swatches, catalogues, and pictures of forks and spoons. There’s even a beautiful mock-up menu. It’s a restaurant design dreamland.
“Normally, this step would take weeks . . .” He opens his iPad and begins tapping on the screen. “But since this project is rushed, and I don’t get the time I, quite frankly, deserve to develop the next best restaurant, we have”—he turns his wrist to read his watch—“one hour.”
I eye the table and can’t imagine how we’ll go through even half of this in an hour, let alone decide on it. Decision-making isn’t my strong suit on a good day, but especially when I’m in a creative funk or I’ve just seen James Huxley in a towel.
I need ample time to make a choice, assume it’s the wrong one, ask Emily what I should actually do, then pivot to her idea and repeat the process four more times. But it seems I have . . . one hour.
James joins us, taking the seat to the left of where I’m sitting at the head of the table. Tommy takes the seat to my right, and we all three stare out at the sea of restaurant options.
“Okay, so first let me show you what I had the graphic designer mock up for the branding and menus.” As he’s digging through the slush pile of papers, my eyes wander to James, who is only drinking from a water glass and not doing a slow-motion striptease for me, yet my body is reacting to him as if he were.
My eyes meet a wet spot on the shoulder of his T-shirt—remnants of the shower—and my mind catapults back to the sight of him surrounded by steam. And then it drags me into the bathroom and supplies me with images of James in the shower. Head tilted back so the water can run down his neck and chest. Armsflexing as he lifts his hands to push through his thick brown hair. His—
“Madison!” Tommy is waving in front of my face. “Are you listening?”
Oh my god. I zoned out, having a dirty daydream about James! This is unacceptable. Outrageous. Not only is it just James—a solid fact that can stand on its own—but he’s also the man I declared an official friendship with last night. That I’m going to be working with closely, without the buffer of Tommy for the next few months, as we’re preparing for the opening. Just me and James and his body that occasionally takes showers.
Get a grip, Madison.
“Sorry—I . . . Do you have to leave so soon? These are a lot of decisions to make today.”
“I know.” His lips form a pout. “It is sad to have to part from me this quickly, isn’t it?”
Tommy smiles and then puts on his black Gucci sunglasses, pushing them up into his hair.
“But don’t worry, you have my much less attractive Huxley brother to keep you company while I’m gone.”
Once upon a time, I might have agreed with that statement. But today, in this upside-down world where I’m mentally undressing James at this table, I strongly disagree.
I’m also more than a little worried that life has just presented my newest shiny opportunity that could end in flames.
“I can’t work alone with him,” I blurt before thinking better of it.
James sits forward, concern etched between his thick brows. “Is it because I didn’t do the blood pact?”
“Yes.No.I mean . . .” I swivel in my seat to look at Tommy. “We need you here because there’s so much to be done and it seems like too much for only the two of us to handle. Alone. By ourselves.”
Tommy is not buying it, and James seems concerned as well. I’m being too weird, which is saying a lot.
