Page 6 of Hidden Hearts

While not technically a professional designer, anyone who works at a place called Design Time has to be creative, right? I’d be killing two birds with one stone: decorating the office on a budget and getting to know Avery. Which will either end with this sudden fixation fizzling out or running its course with her in my bed, and then fizzling out.

Because I never stay interested in a woman for long. Stone Precision always draws my full attention back to it.

"Sounds like a plan. Are you going to finish that? I'm starving."

I grunt in exasperation and push my half-eaten burger towards him. Matt would always rather eat than work. He'd actually prefer anything else over work, but he’s damn good at his job when he has to be, which is why we’re still business partners.

I don’t tolerate lazy slackers—not in life and certainly not in my business. That’s why we vet people before agreeing to take them on as clients. Make sure they’re serious and open to advice and the potential for change. I’m not going to work my ass off for someone else to flush it down the drain because they have a terrible work ethic.

Pulling out my cell, I drag my perpetually straying gaze away from Avery to catch up on some emails while I wait for Matt to finish.

"It's rude to be on your phone during dinner," Matt points out.

"We're not on a date, moron."

Matt almost chokes on his food at the comeback. "Yeah, because you haven't been with a woman in over a year. Since what’s her name… Lydia, Lisa? No wonder you have no manners. You're out of practice."

I take a gulp of my beer. This is one of Matt's favorite topics: me and women. Because he travels so much, he takes that as an opportunity to also sleep with as many women as possible. He’s never understood why I’m not the same way.

It never occurred to him that I’ve been busy building the company. I don't have time to date, and frankly, it doesn't interest me. Or it didn’t, I think as I stole another glance at Avery. She’s laughing, her face completely open and free of tension—a way she’s never been with me the two times we’ve met.

"I told you we weren't going to discuss this anymore." I don’t need Matt meddling in my affairs. Especially now that I’m considering letting someone into my life.

Avery and her companion gather their things to leave after only ordering drinks. It’s time to make a move and put my hastily made plan into action.

"I'm ready to go. Here's money for my meal." I throw some cash on the table and leave. Matt’s probably going to text me asking why I was in such a hurry, but I’m not about to let him know I’m chasing a woman—a beautiful but icy Avery.

The two women hug goodbye before Avery heads to the crosswalk at the corner. Jogging to the light, I lean around her to press the button for the pedestrian walking signal as if this is a casual run-in rather than me following her outside like a damn stalker.

All casualty flies out the window, though, when pain erupts in my cheek after Avery’s arm whacks me in the face. Her short scream rents the air, and she almost trips over her feet in the swift twisting panic of her body. "Who—Dominic? Are you trying to scare me to death? You don't run up behind a woman like that at night!"

"Sorry, I wanted to make sure I made this light." There’s not a car in sight, but that doesn't mean I can't use the crosswalk like a good citizen.

Rubbing my jaw to ease the sting of her unexpected assault, I ask, “What was that? Some kind of ninja move?”

"You’re lucky I didn’t have my katana or else you’d be—" She slices her hand across her neck, and unbidden, a chuckle works its way through my disgruntlement at her theatrics.

“Please tell me you don’t really have a katana stashed away at home.”

“Let’s hope you never find out,” she warns, crossing her arms and turning away from me.

Determined not to let her dismiss me, I pushed. "I saw you at Daffodil's tonight. Who was your friend?"

“None of your business.”

“Not up for friendly conversation?”

She doesn't respond.

Is she trying to ignore me now?

Grinning, I continue, "How long have you worked for Mike?”

The light changes and my long strides match her short, stomping ones as we cross the street. I’m not sure she’s going to answer when she snaps, "Four years. Why?"

"Like I said, making friendly conversation. Mike gave me a tour of the machines. Intimidating stuff. Did you always want to become an industrial embroiderer?" Maybe if I keep her talking, she’ll relax, and I can broach the topic of her helping me decorate the Stone Precision office.

"Hardly. I applied for a graphic design position, but it obviously never materialized.” A tinge of bitterness adds an edge to her tone. “Since we're playing Twenty Questions, why did you move to Suitor’s Crossing?"

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