Just Like That

Chapter 17

MEL

I take a long, slow shower after Pete leaves, scrubbing every inch of myself and rubbing sweet-smelling body wash into my skin. Shutting off the water, I climb out and towel myself dry, going in search of clothes.

Immediately, I reach for my jeans - I usually live in jeans and sweaters when I’m home - but my hand stops, veering for a comfortable skirt to pair with my sweater instead. Maybe I want to look a little nicer than usual for Pete when he gets back.

Dressing, I go in search of coffee and curl up in my armchair, staring out over the leafy trees in the park behind our building.

Are Pete and I together again? He said this morning he wanted me to stay in Seattle with him. Be with him. That sounds like it means being together. Shit. We need to sit down and talk about what this actually means. I need to think.

If we’re together, properly together, then I will have to deal with his family’s disapproval. Am I ready for that? I stare out the window, pondering what my future might look like. Whatever it looks like, it’s not going anywhere near Sea Nest Constructions ever again.

The key rattles in the door, and warmth shoots through me. I haven’t heard that noise since Bee moved out. I’m the only one who has been rattling a key in the lock.

Shoving to my feet, I look over, a grin settling on my lips as Pete steps through, holding two brown paper bags.

“Hey,” I say softly, smiling up at him as he reaches the living room, placing the bags on the kitchen countertop.

“Hey,” Pete replies, crossing to me, gathering me into his arms, and brushing a kiss over my lips.

“What’s in the bags? Did you bring me presents?”

Pete chuckles against my lips, kissing me again before stepping back and crossing to the galley kitchen.

“This one,” he pushes one toward me, “is some things you left at the office.” Oh. “This one,” he grins, opening the second and reaching in, “is roast beef subs for lunch.”

My mouth is watering, and I shove aside my bag of things from the office - probably my travel mug and stuff like that, and eagerly reach for a sub. Mine has a ticket stuck to it, and I glance at it as I rip it off. NO CASHEWS!!! I bite back a smile.

“Taking no chances, huh?” I wave the ticket around. Pete glances over, capturing my hand and taking the ticket off me, his eyes darting to it before he places it on the counter. Cupping my hand in both of his, he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, his eyes burning into mine.

“Taking no chances for the rest of my life,” he assures me. My heart thuds. The rest of his life? That sounds…serious.

We take our subs to the coffee table, dropping couch cushions on the floor and lounging on them. Pete flicks on the stereo, soft pop music spilling out.

As he unwraps his sub, my eyes land on his right hand - specifically, his reddened knuckles. Dropping my sandwich, I reach for it, grabbing his hand.

“What happened?” I gasp, carefully examining it. Pete uses his other hand to gently extricate his fingers from my hold, taking his hands back.

“I knocked them on something,” he says dismissively. I reach for his hand again, my eyes narrowing.

“They’re really red. You must have hit them hard.”

“Pretty hard, yeah.”

How can he be so unconcerned about this? He must have jammed his hand in an elevator or something.

“What did you hit?”

Pete shrugs, his eyes still on his sandwich. “Keighly’s jaw.”

I freeze. Oh my god. He punched him?

“You punched him?” I squeak. Pete’s eyes lift to mine, and he shrugs again.

“I wasn’t going to. Well, I was going to try really hard not to.”

“So what happened for you to hit him?”

“He made a comment I took offense to,” Pete growls, his tone saying he doesn’t want to repeat it to me. I wonder if it was something about me.

He is clearly uncomfortable talking about how he punched someone in the face for me, so I hide my smile and pick up my sandwich, starting to eat.

“So…did I get fired?”

Pete’s eyes snap to mine. “You resigned.”

Well, that’s better for my resume. I think it still counts as leaving under a cloud, but at least I left of my own accord.

“No severance then?”

“No. Sorry. You will get a settlement, and the NDA still stands.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it anyway. I just want to forget about it.”

“Okay.” Pete’s hand reaches over, squeezing mine for a moment, his eyes burning into his face. “But I’m right here if you ever need to talk about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Warmth shoots through me again. Okay, we definitely need to discuss that. I open my mouth to bring it up, but Pete beats me to it, speaking again.

“What are you going to do with your money?”

“My money?”

“Your settlement.”

“Oh.” I wrinkle my nose, falling silent. It’s kind of blood money, isn’t it? I don’t really want to go out and buy a fancy purse or shoes or something. I’d just hate them every time I looked at them. My ten-year plan for Chicago floats through my head. I’m not going to need it if I stay here in Seattle, but…it could maybe work here.

“I suppose, depending on the amount, I’d start my own business.”

Pete’s eyebrows shoot up, but he nods, studying my face. “Doing what?”

“Interior design. I was mainly a copy and coffee girl at Sea Nest, but I did get to sit in on a few design meetings. I’d love to do that. Working with a construction company to do all their interior designs. I love the idea of working with a blank canvas from scratch.”

Pete is still nodding, looking thoughtful. “You’d need to make contacts in the construction industry.”

Oh, yeah. So far, my only contact is Sea Nest, and I’m not going near them with a ten-foot pole. Pete crumples his sandwich wrapping, standing, and collecting mine.

“Wash up. We’re going on an excursion.”

Okay? Bounding to my feet, I wash my hands, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder, looking at him expectantly.

“Where are we going?”

Pete takes my hand, squeezing it and leading me out of the apartment. “You’ll see.”

My eyes widen as we step out onto the twentieth floor. The offices are simple, practical, and nicely decorated. But my eyes are locked on the sign above the receptionist's head. Holt Constructions.

“A construction company?” I whisper. Pete smiles down at me, his thumb stroking over my hand.

“Yeah. Remember my friend Andy?”

Oh, the one with the gossip about Sea Nest - who I should have listened to. I’m not going to forget about him any time soon.

“Hey, Jessie,” Pete grins at the receptionist. “Andy in?”

“Probably napping under his desk,” the dark-haired woman quips, jerking her head toward an arched doorway. Smirking, Pete tugs my hand, leading me away from the reception area.

There are a few glass-walled offices and meeting rooms, with some people moving about, but Pete doesn’t stop at any of them, leading me through to an open doorway.

The office we step into is very masculine. Heavy leather and wood furniture, and framed photographs of buildings everywhere. The heavy wooden desk is covered with blueprints and half-filled coffee mugs, like someone started drinking one, put it down, got distracted, and made another when it got cold, to begin the process all over again.

Looking over the blueprints, standing at the desk, is a tall, handsome man with extremely short-cropped hair, only slightly longer than his matching light brown stubble.

He couldn’t be more opposite Pete with his fancy tailored suit and leather shoes if he tried, dressed in a white T-shirt, stretched taut over his broad shoulders and muscles, faded jeans covered in what looks like dried paint and plaster splotches, and heavy work boots.

He looks over, his face lighting up with a grin at the sight of Pete and me, his eyes dropping to our clasped hands. Dropping his thick pencil on the desk, he strides over to us.

“Mel?”

I blink in surprise, pointing to my chest with my free hand. “Uh, yeah?”

He chuckles, bending to kiss my cheek rather than offering me his hand.

“You know my name?”

More laughter as he claps Pete on the shoulder. “He’s mentioned you once or twice, yeah.”

My face flames because we only decided to get back together this morning. Shit. I hope it was nice things.

“Mel, this is Anderson Holt.”