“You are impossible.”
I smirk. “You are difficult.”
Cleo barks. We both ignore her. Instead, we eye one another as though we’re in a standoff in the Old West.
It’s Wade’s turn to lick his lips. “I can design a house a hundred times greater than anything Johan can even imagine.”
So Wade has a competitive streak? This should be fun.
“Can and will are two very different words, Mr. Mason.”
“They most definitely are.”
“You say you can. Johan says he will. I like do-ers.”
The corner of his mouth flicks toward the sky in something that resembles a mixture of a grin and a smirk. It makes my knees go weak, and I struggle to stay in control.
If I’m even in control. I’m not sure anymore.
“It’s a good thing I can do things then, isn’t it?” he asks.
“It would be if it mattered.” I smile. “At the moment, you’re just an architect who made a very weak first impression.”
His eyes narrow. “Stop lying.”
“Who? Me?”
“Yes, you.”
He takes a step toward me, effectively cutting the distance between us in half. The energy rippling off his body is enough to render me speechless.
My blood pours through my body, and waves of his cologne wash over my senses. I barely remember to hold tight to Cleo’s leash as I lose myself in the depth of his green eyes.
“You know I didn’t make a weak first impression,” he says, his voice low. “You know that if I told you that I could fit you on my schedule that you’d be there on time …. ready and willing.”
I lift my chin. “And you know that if I said that I would relinquish control … you’d be all over it.”
I actually don’t know if that’s true. What I do know is that I’m playing with fire.
He sucks in a deep breath, running his tongue around the inside of his cheek. I hold my breath and wait for him to volley something back.
Finally, he sighs.
“I have an opening Monday at four o’clock,” he says.
“Not in your office.”
“Where?”
I think quickly. “Hillary’s House. Google it.”
He pauses before extending his hand. I pause even longer before giving him mine.
The contact of our palms together sends a ripple of goose bumps across my flesh. It also sparks something in his eyes that makes them two shades darker.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he says, letting go of my hand.
“See you then.”
He walks away like nothing of importance just happened.
I watch him like it did.
SIX
WADE
“What is this? A daycare?” I ask as I shut the door to Boone’s office.
“Wadeeeeeeeeee,” Rosie screeches before launching herself at me. I buckle from the force. She attaches herself to my leg by sitting on my foot and wrapping her limbs around my shin.
Do I have a sign on my head asking to be jumped on today?
I lift my gaze to Boone. He has the audacity to grin.
“I love you, Wade,” Rosie says, pressing her cheek against my knee. Her eyes focus on me so intently that it makes me itch. “I just love you so much.”
“That’s … nice.” I glare at Boone and then at Holt. “I thought you guys were running a reputable company over here?”
Holt laughs. I want to tell him that he’s getting soft in his old age, but I don’t bother. He’ll just laugh even more, and that will extend my time here.
“Boone … can you get your kid?” I shake my leg, but it only makes Rosie giggle. “You’re going to have to let go of me at some point, you know.”
She shakes her head. Each swipe to a side causes her forehead to thump against my shin. It can’t feel good.
“Wade?” Rosie asks.
I look down at her. I would never admit this to anyone, but she’s actually kind of cute when she’s not covered in chocolate or sticky. She also has an affinity for me, and I have to give her credit for that. At barely five years old, she can tell which one of us is the one to buddy up to—me.
“What, Rosie?” I ask, sighing.
“Will you marry me someday?”
I reach down and try to pry her off my leg. She fights me, protesting both verbally and by fisting the fabric of my pants in her little hands.
“Rosie,” I say through clenched teeth. “I can’t marry you because I’m your uncle. That’s illegal in every state. Also, you’re five.”
“But I’ll be bigger someday!”
Finally, with more effort than I anticipated it would take to detach myself from a preschooler, I hold her up in the air and hand her to Holt.
“You are a little rascal. Do you know that?” Holt asks her.
“That’s what Daddy Boonie says.” She smiles wide as she looks at my little brother. “Can I go see Helena?”
Boone grabs a notepad and a pen off his desk. “It’s Saturday, so Helena isn’t here. But you can go out into the hallway where you can spread out and draw her pictures.”