“Next time, we’ll see what you can do with a pair of needles,” she called after him as he made his goodbyes and headed out the door.
His whole body felt looser as he strolled back to his car. Working with his hands always did that for him. In fact he was feeling so good that he considered driving straight to BUILD, where he’d get to see Faith’s face light up when he walked in.
But that was exactly the reason he should point his car back to the office. There was no temptation there, no ruby-red lips tipping up at the corners to welcome him. And he’d been playing with fire enough these days.
FOURTEEN
Faith put her car in park and pulled up her text history to double-check the address. William couldn’t possibly have intended to send her to a McMansion in the bougiest part of Beaucoeur for their introductory dinner. But the address matched the numbers on the all-brick mailbox in front of the lush expanse of lawn, so she grabbed her tray of brownies and six-pack of beer and trotted up the curved sidewalk to the two-story entryway.
For a house built in the past decade or two, it wasn’t bad-looking, with a gray stone exterior and white columns flanking the front door. The windows in the front gave a clear view through the open floor plan to the sprawling yard in the back. None of it was what she expected given the little she knew about William—and the lot that she knew about his salary—but she seemed to be in the right place.
She pressed the doorbell, and the chime echoed through the house for a long moment before footsteps approached and the door flew open to reveal the last person she expected to see.
“Leo?”
“Faith! Hi!” His surprised delight sizzled through her blood to lodge somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
“What areyoudoing here?” she blurted.
He reached out to grab the brownies that were in danger of slipping out of her suddenly nerveless fingers. “I live here.”
She took a step back to glance at the house number again, as if it had somehow changed in the past ten seconds. “I thought William lived here,” she said, like that was any kind of explanation.
When she looked back, that dazzling smile was gone. “You’re here for William?”
As if he’d been summoned, the tall blond man appeared over Leo’s shoulder.
“There she is!” he said. “Just in time.”
Leo swung his head around. “What’s she doing here?”
And that’s about when Faith started contemplating getting back in her car and driving until she reached the ocean. A solid three days on the road ought to do it, and then she could wade out into the water and let the current take her.
William stepped in before she could make good on her plans. “I told you I wanted to talk about work stuff tonight before I officially start next week.”
“Yes. And?” Leo asked impatiently.
“And she’s part of the team.” William’s tone made it clear that this should be obvious to everyone involved. “So I asked her to come for dinner.”
“William said he was having a cookout.” The bottles clinked gently as she lifted the cardboard case of beer. As far as conversational gambits went, it was up there with “I carried a watermelon,” but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.
“And Leo clearly didn’t tell you that I’m staying with him until I find my own place.” While Leo had reverted to an even more severe scowl than usual, William tucked his hands into his pockets as he grinned at her, all loose limbs and good cheer.
“He did not,” she said. In fact, she hadn’t heard much from Leo at all in the past week.
“So are you going to let her in or…?” William looked expectantly at Leo, whose flint-hard gaze traveled from her to William and back again before he finally stepped aside. She took a cautious step over the threshold, afraid that there might be a second wave of attack waiting for her, but William simply took the brownies from Leo’s hands and the beer from hers and disappeared into the house, leaving the two of them alone.
“I had no idea you lived—”
“So you’re already talking with William.” Leo kicked the door shut, then turned and leaned against it, arms crossed. “That’s great. Great that you’re getting along.”
His voice sounded off, but she answered anyway. “I think so, yes. Why do you look like you want to punch something?”
“I don’t—” He ran a hand through his thick hair, ruffling the curls. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s good that you two get along.”
“He seems nice so far,” she said. “And you two are friends, so it tracks that I’d like him too.”
“Yeah. William’s incredibly likable.”
