“The sale was finalized a few months ago, but some of the reconstruction took a little longer than expected. Junior’s office is back here.”
She’d missed the office tucked into the far back corner of the space.
The senior Graham rapped twice on the door and pushed it open. “Nine o’clock’s here.”
Addison stepped into the office. Aiden Graham Junior stood from behind his desk and approached with his hand outstretched. She had to tilt her head back as he came close. A few inches taller than his father, he almost towered over her. But it was more than his height. She was used to being around men who exuded constrained energy, but Aiden took it to a whole other level. His presence took up physical space as if his body was too small to contain all of him.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Major Foster,” he said.
“Of course. I just hope the trip won’t be in vain,” she said.
“I don’t think that will be the case at all.” He looked at his father. “Dad, since you’re going to hover around anyway, can you get everyone over to the conference room?”
The two men held a stare-off, left eyebrows cocked in an almost identical expression of challenge. Aiden’s lifted slightly higher, and his father’s lips twitched.
“On it,” Senior said with a nod.
Once his back was turned, Aiden closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, mumbling something under his breath Addison didn’t catch.
“Would you like something to drink, Major Foster? Coffee or water?” he asked.
“I could use another coffee. Addison is fine.”
He nodded. “Let’s see if there’s some fresh coffee in the kitchen. And call me Graham.”
“Doesn’t that get confusing with your father also being Aiden Graham?”
“Not usually. Everyone calls him Senior. The only time we run into issues is when someone calls and asks for Mr. Graham.” He turned a corner and walked through an open doorway into a fully equipped kitchen.
Two men crowded around a petite Latina woman. She stood facing them, arms out in a protective gesture, a fierce and angry look on her face.
“What’s going on?” Graham asked.
“Tell them to back off, Graham.” The woman kept her focus on the men as if they were velociraptors and she was Chris Pratt.
“We just want some coffee, Ange,” the man on the right said.
“You can have it when it’s finished brewing,” she said. “And after I get my cup.”
The guy on the left groaned dramatically. “That’s going to take forever. I need caffeine now.”
“Then you should have fixed the pot yourself instead of waiting for me to fix it,” the woman said.
The second man took a small step closer. “But you make it best, Angie. That’s why we ask you to do it.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Bullshit. You ask me to make it because you’re a lazy, entitled, chauvinist a—”
“Angela,” Graham said, a stern warning in his voice. “We have a client.” He looked at Addison out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry about this.”
The corners of her mouth tugged up. She hadn’t heard any true animosity in Angela’s voice. It reminded Addison of fighting with her brother more than anything. “No problem.”
Angela, defender of caffeine and feminism, shifted her now wide-eyed gaze to them. She dropped her arms and stood up straight as the two men turned.
“Oh. Oh! You’re Major Foster. I’m so sorry for…them.” She waved her hand in front of the men. “And that you had to see this.”
Addison smiled. “That’s okay.”
“It’s just that they try to pour coffee before the entire carafe is full, and it messes with the strength and taste of the coffee,” Angela said.
