My dream has always been to be an interior decorator. Before I took off, I’d been dabbling in it on the side without my mom knowing. I kept it from her because I knew it wouldn’t go over well, and I didn’t want her to deter me.
She made her feelings about interior decorating very clear over the years. She turned her nose up at some of the classes I'd taken in relation to it. I don’t get why she looks down on it. We often have to rub shoulders with people's interior decorators. To me it’s art, and my birth father was an artist. I can’t see her turning her nose up about that. I know she loved my father.
Sometimes I wonder if losing him made her colder. When Grams told me stories about my parents together, Mom sounded different than the woman I know. When I was older I got Grams to open up a bit more about it. I know she never wanted to talk bad about my mom because well, it’s my mom and her deceased son’s wife, but she admitted that she’d changed a lot.
My mom had been a workaholic when Dad met her, but he’d actually gotten her to slow down. To stop and smell the roses, Grams would always say. After Dad died, Mom let herself fall back into work the same way she had before they met. Then she went and married a man who was as driven toward work as she is. There was always a sadness in Grams’ eyes when she spoke about it.
I think Grams left me everything because she didn’t want me to end up in that life. She knew having somewhere to go and a little nest egg would allow me to do what I wanted. I wipe a stray tear from my eye, before reaching to open the door to the office.
I step in, dropping my coffee and my sandwich on my desk before heading to Novak’s office to give him his. I’m about to walk in when I hear another male voice besides his. I look down at my wrist, checking my watch, not remembering seeing a meeting on his calendar for this early.
“You here, Reese?” Novak calls.
“Yeah.” I step into his office. My stomach drops when I see Blake sitting in the chair across from Novak’s.
“What would I do without you?” Novak stands, coming over to take his coffee and sandwich from me.
“Get your own coffee and sandwich?” I tease.
I’ve turned into a bit of a secretary at times for Novak. Which I don’t mind because it pays. I’m also interning too, which doesn’t typically pay. It works all around for both of us.
“I’d like you to meet Blake Justice. He might be our next client.” I put my hands behind my back, locking my fingers together.
“Nice to meet you.” I give him a nod. So not offering him my hand again. I’ve lived that humiliation once already. Blake rises to his feet. To my surprise, he offers his hand. Thankfully, the bell on the front door chimes. “I’ll get that,” I excuse myself, fleeing Novak’s office to make my escape.
Something tells me it’s going to be short-lived.
CHAPTER 5
BLAKE
M e staying away from Reese lasted all but twelve hours. I’ve been waiting outside an hour before the office even opened. I called my cousin last night to get Novak’s number and then reached out to the architect at ten o'clock on a Sunday night. He didn't seem bothered by it. Said he’d see me first thing this morning. I could give two shits about seeing him. It’s her I’m here for.
Everything about her appeals to me from the top of her blonde hair to the tips of her pretty red pumps.
Those heels would look especially fine dangling over my shoulder while I made myself at home between her thighs. Her blouse hugs her curves, molding lovingly around her tits. Her curvy hips are highlighted perfectly in her slim-fitting skirt. That tube of fabric would probably rip in half if I applied the least amount of pressure to it. I could span her ass easily with my hands.
“Eyes over here, Justice,” Novak barks at me.
I swing back to him slowly and raise an eyebrow. “What’s with the tone?”
The architect tightens his grip around his mechanical drafting pencil and grits out, “She’s mine.”
“You sure about that?” The woman was having a blind date at Coffee’s. That’s not a sign of a taken women.
“Damn straight. We’re working things out, and you keep your damn nose out of my business.”
I cast another glance over my shoulder at the door that Reese exited before replying. “I don’t think women like it when you tag them like a piece of cattle.”
Novak bursts out laughing. “The fuck are you talking about? That’s the Justices’ MO. They see a woman that they like and they slap their hands on the woman’s ass and shout, ‘She’s mine. Touch her and die.’ Like you all are barely a generation from the knuckle-dragging cave-dwellers.” He wipes his eyes and blinks a few times so he can see clearly after that moment of self-induced hilarity. I haven’t even cracked a smile, but Novak doesn’t notice. He shakes his head and bends over his notes.