Page 93 of Designed for Disaster

I hung up with Stacy and immediately called Trent. This guy couldn’t keep screwing with me. He’d wanted me out of his life, so now he needed to stay out of mine.

A familiar ring tone sounded. It washis ringtone. It sounded like it was coming from right outside the…No freaking way! I sprinted across the room, throwing open the door, letting in a wash of frigid air as I gaped at Trent. He stood there with his stupidly perfect face, cheeks red from the wind, his gloved hand raised like he was about to knock. I hung up my phone.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

He blinked down at me. “Getting screamed at, apparently. Is knocking on your door a crime now?”

I stomped back across the workshop away from the cold. Trent followed. I heard the door close. “Veronica Chase?” I spat out the moment he started to say something.

“She reached out to you?”

I scoffed, clinging to my fury to keep from bursting into frustrated tears. “Do you have any idea what having a client like her would mean for me?”

“I have some idea, yes.” He shed his jacket and his gloves. I tried not to ogle the way his sweater clung to his chest.Fight it, I told myself.Don’t you dare swoon!“Have you emailed her back?”

I dragged my eyes back to his face. “No, I haven’t emailed her back!” I snapped. “Why are you doing this to me? Are you purposely trying to ruin my chances of making a name for myself in the industry?”

“No,” he said. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I don’t understand you. Why would you give her my name? I don’t need you to do that for me. I don’twantyou to do that.”

“That’s exactly why!” he said, surging across the room toward me.

I took a stumbling step back. I couldn’t be close to him and think straight.

“Because youdon’tneed me,” he continued. “And I wanted to prove that to you.”

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Natasha, I would love for you to come back and work for Saunders,” he said. “More than anything.”

My insides burned at his words. Why was he saying these things to me now? These were the words I’d wanted so desperately to hear that day he exploded at me in my office. Now they were just knives, driving straight through my chest. “You can’t say things like that. Not now.”

“Ineedto say them. I need you to know how I feel. But more than that, I need you to know what you’re worth. Because whether you choose to come back to Saunders or not, the one thing I know for certain is that youcansupport yourself. You told me I’d cut the strings of your safety net,” he said, voice strained. “And you were right. But you don’t need any job I can give you. You don’t need my contacts or my money or anything else.”

Was he even listening to the words he was saying? “Obviously, you think I do need your contacts, or you wouldn’t have given Veronica Chase my name and contact info,” I said, the heat of rage warring with the desire to pull him close. To fall into his arms.

“I did give her your name, but believe me when I say that Veronica values her own business too highly to work with anyone but the best. All I did was point her to your listing and let her see for herself what you’re capable of.”

“What’s the difference? You’re still the one who connected us.”

“I never asked her to reach out to you though. She decided to do that on her own. Any commissions you get from her will be because you’ve impressed her and earned it on your own merit.”

That…was a fair point. I’d been picturing something shadier, with Trent trading some kind of obscure, rich-person favor to convince Veronica to throw some business my way, but would she really risk her brand if she didn’t believe in my work? Her whole business was built on her reputation, and she wouldn’t take any chances with that. I still wasn’t thrilled about him talking to people about me behind my back, but I was maybe willing to admit that he hadn’t done it to trick or manipulate me but to help me.

And yes, I got the irony of me being mad athimfor helping me without my consent.

I didn’t know what to do. Did I thank him? Throw him out and slam the door in his face? Take his hand and never let go? As much as I wanted to demand that he leave my workshop, my head and my heart were in two very different places. It wasgoodto see him. I wanted to reach for him, to dive into his strength and warmth. I wanted him so damn bad it hurt. I turned away before I could do something stupid. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t come here expecting you to say anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to explain,” his voice softened, “why I acted the way I did. I don’t think you realize how jaded I was about love before I met you.”

“Trent,” I groaned, running my hands over my face.

“Let me explain, Natasha.Please.”

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