Page 2 of A Little More

Lexi let out a slow breath. She’d hoped that’d been the house. It would’ve made commuting into Atlanta for work a longer drive, close to an hour and a half, but it would be worth it. No matter what her mom thought. And her boss? Well, if his employees followed his rules and got the job done, he wouldn’t have cared.

“Ms. Caden?” She’d almost forgotten he stood at her door. Nash stepped into her office, both hands propped on the back of the chair across from her. “You look as though someone just ran over your cat,” he said with a smooth, Southern accent.

“I don’t have a cat,” she mumbled.

He half laughed. “Kicked your dog, maybe?”

She mentally kicked herself. The client deserved all her attention, herprofessionalattention. It wasn’t like she was eight again and didn’t get the Barbie Dream House from Santa. “I’m sorry. It was nothing.” She stood and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Holloway.”

His smile scrambled her thoughts. “Call me, Nash.” In two long steps, he took her hand, rough callouses reminding her that he shouldn’t look this good in a suit. Overalls. Picture him in overalls.

She took a deep breath, his cologne a woodsy scent. With a long, slow exhale, she belatedly realized that she should have included a shirt in that mental image of overalls.

He leaned closer, concern evident. “You looked a little out of sorts.”

“I’ll be fine.” Until her knees gave way if he held her hand much longer. Ridiculous. She could meet an attractive man and keep it platonic.

“I might be able to help if you let me know what’s wrong. I can’t find a solution if I don’t know the problem.”

Why did men always try to fix the situation? She could fix it herself. She dropped his hand. “I’m afraid there’s no solution you can offer.” She shifted around him and headed out of her office that had suddenly grown overly warm. She’d start this meeting in the conference room and give them a little more space. “Really, it’s not that important. Let’s go to the conference room. I have some pictures set up.”

Oddly aware that he was right behind her, she focused straight down the long hallway, one side almost entirely made up of windows. Nash couldn’t offer her a solution unless he had a farmhouse in his back pocket and an extra architect to work Lionel’s abandoned jobs. Not that she needed a man’s help, anyway.

“This is a nice office.” Nash paused by one of the windows. “I have to admit, I’ve never wondered what Atlanta looks like from forty-three floors up.” He whistled low. “And that’s a long way down.”

Taking two steps back, she looked at the view of the city and then at his profile. “Scared of heights?”

He rolled his shoulders, looking a little uncomfortable in his suit. “Nothing that I’d admit to.”

Something about his answer made her smile. “Follow me.” Lexi walked into the conference room and around the long table to the three large boards, each displaying a different variation of the store. She might feel unsure when it came to the farmhouse but designing spaces like Nash’s came second nature now. “I tried to use what you described in the email and the examples of other country stores you sent me to come up with a rough sketch. I appreciated the photos of the property, but I’ll have to come down and get a firsthand view of the land before I can finalize the plans—”

“These are great, Ms. Caden.”

“I’m glad you like them. Please, call me Lexi. So,” she said, pointing at the first board, “this one is the size you described.” She went through all the technical specs of her designs one by one, explaining her thoughts and views, giving a couple of suggestions about outside space.

Nash nodded but was otherwise quiet. She thought she’d caught him watching her instead of where she pointed on the board. Or else she’d looked at him long enough for him to notice her staring. Either way, the two or three times he gave her undivided attention, she lost her train of thought. That had never happened before.

She finally managed to get through the entire explanation with a little less finesse than usual. She’d dated a few men who were white in the past, but none like Nash who watched her with such intensity. And never a client. That made him off-limits. The end.

“What do you think?”

“They’re all very nice.” He ran a hand over his chin. “I think you’re right, though. You’ll need to come down to see the land. I’ve changed the location.”

Lexi rested her hip against the conference room table. Some clients could be very picky, constantly changing or adding things to the design up until the very end. She hadn’t expected her overalls-wearing, old farmer to be one of them.

“I also want to add a small version of a cotton gin on the back.”

“A cotton gin?” In the store? Didn’t Eli Whitney invent that? “That takes the seeds out of cotton, right?”

He seemed to sense her confusion. “When you come down to look at the land, I’ll give you a tour of the gin, so you can get an idea of the space.”

“Why do you want a cotton gin?”

He looked at the drawing again before turning those blue eyes her direction. “I want an exhibition demonstrating cotton from seed to shirt. Between the tours and selling local produce, we’re hoping to help our local farmers by drawing in business off I-75.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“The town?”

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