“Oh. My best friend is getting married. Camila Sanchez, maybe you met her in the boardroom? I’m embroidering her bachelorette sash with her new last name.”
“What about”—he turns ninety degrees, points at the Singer on the kitchen countertop—“thatone?”
“Making some pajamas out of this buttery fabric I got.”
“In the kitchen?”
“I don’t cook much.”
“Okay.” He smirks. “And that one?” Will nods to the corner of the room, where the small mint-green desktop machine is currently presiding over a pile of hardbacks.
“Terrible quality, but it was cheap and looked cute in Instagram photos, back when I was the one taking them. Now I just use it as an artistic bookend.”
Will nods, his eyes finally pulling over to mine. Another scan up and down my body, quick as a flash of light, but his expression doesn’t change. “All set?”
“Wait a minute.” I put my hands on my hips. “No snarky comment on the glitter blanketing the grooves in the floor? The pile of returns ready to ship out?”
“All that tells me,” Will says, eyes narrowing, “is you’re a dedicated friend and you shop online—which, let’s face it, could be a write-off in your case. Besides, I like this house. I’ll admit I pictured you somewhere fancier, but now that I’ve seen your home, I think it suits you.”
I bristle at the positive, calming note to his voice. “Well, thank you.”
His blue eyes dance. He knows he’s thrown me. “Shall we?”
“Yep.” I head for the door. “Did you get the pictures of my car you needed for your cousin?”
He holds it open and lets me exit first. “I did. He owns a repair shop. He says it’ll only take the day, since he preordered the part when I first called on Wednesday morning.”
“I’ll be in town,” I say, “but Revenant has its first pop-up on Saturday. I’ll ride my bicycle there, so you can have the car.”
We head down the cobblestoned side path to Will’s rental car, parked on the darkening street. “You have a bicycle?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“A road bike?”
“It’s a hybrid.”
After a minute where I canfeelWill’s mental gymnastics—his attempt to digest this hobby we have in common even amidst his notions of me—he says, “Cool.”
When we reach his car, he opens the passenger door. I slide into the seat without making eye contact but grumble athanksunder my breath, my body heating.
After he climbs in, he says, “So. You’ve apparently got exactly five minutes to tell me what you think of Derrick.”
I burst into a short laugh, then cover my mouth with both hands. He looks amused at my amusement, his dimples poking through.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It’s just, Derrick has probably been in a million situations where someone asked him what he thinks of me. This is the first time it’s happened the other way around.”
Will frowns as he pulls onto the road. “Nobody’s ever asked your opinion of him?”
“I think most people were so thrilled with his investment that personal opinions didn’t matter. But for the record, I like Derrick. He respects me.”
Will’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he takes a right turn. “He listens to you?”
“He always listens. And he almost always argues back. But I don’t see that as a bad thing. Derrick pushes me, exposes my limitations. I’m young and I lack experience. That’s just a fact there’s no getting around.” After a beat I add, “He’s making me take online CEO classes.”
Will smirks. “How’s that going?”
