Fat Cat Liar

“I actually believe you.”

“Good, because I’m not lying. It’s the same with the other sites, too. No hidden intentions.”

“Has it helped?”

“Absolutely.”

“This is why you don’t have time to meet me at the gym or join us for drinks after work?”

“Yep.” I don’t add that I’ve been running three times a week in the building gym so I don’t have to leave Greer so early. “Like I said, working.”

“Are you going to show me what you’ve got so far?”

“Actually, I’m done. The design is complete.”

“No fucking way. You’re already done?” His head jerks to my design room.

“Why do you act surprised?”

“Because there’s no way in hell a perfectionist like you is already at the final stage.”

“I’m just fine tuning the details.”

What I don’t mention is the details are based on bits and pieces I pick up from Greer daily. She’s the one who has made this possible. She’s also the reason I started visiting the sites a few weeks ago. That is one truth I’ve told. Getting back to basics, paired with her, has changed my outlook on my job. The nagging feeling of guilt spreads through me, sinking like lead in my stomach. Whenever I’m in this office, I force myself to concentrate, but lately, it’s become useless. She invades my thoughts each minute I’m away from her. There’s no doubt I’ve created the most brilliant design of my life all because of her.

“Did you hear me?” Clay breaks through my thoughts.

“Nope.”

“I asked if you are going to show me?”

“Actually, that’s the reason I wanted to talk to you. I need to go over the financials of the project and give you some idea of what we’re working with. This is going to exceed our original budget by twenty percent, at least.”

His face pales, and he blows out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That is not going to go over well. After your last screw up, I’ve been under scrutiny for not watching the funds closely enough. This is going to be a hard sale.”

“It’s time to put on your big boy pants and find a way to finesse this. Nothing can be spared.”

His jaw hardens at my statement. He hates being told how to do his job, especially by me. “Do I need to remind you about last quarter? We all ate shit to avoid a downsize because of you.”

“You don’t fucking need to remind me. I live it every damn day. But I’m telling you this is different.”

“Show me.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, irritated at his lack of trust in my design. He’s never questioned me before, always believing in my skill. Six weeks ago, I would have laid into him, maybe even kicked his ass out of my office for daring to step in my way. But things have changed.

I have changed.

And I know exactly why. The blonde haired, green-eyed goddess that has inched her way into my soul.

I sigh, scrub my hands over my face, and dig for some type of smart-ass remark I know he expects from me. Nothing comes to mind, so I turn my monitor and pull up the latest saved blueprint I created.

He scoots closer, his eyes darting between the screen and me suspiciously.

“I don’t have time to fight with you today, Clay, but don’t make it a habit to second guess me.”

His lip twitches in a way I know he wants to remark, but he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Screen by screen, I take him through the design.