Page 22 of Come Home to Me

“Nice try, my friend,” Jason says. “But I’m still not buying it. You two are so screwed.” And with that, he saunters away, laughing lightly.

“He’s joking, right?” I ask once we’re alone. All I did was walk up to Frank and make a very bland comment. There’s no way Jason could see anything other than that.

Frank nods. “Definitely joking,” he says, though the sideways glance he throws Jason’s way makes me think he’s not nearly as confident as he seems. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.” Frank folds his arms across his chest and leans in. “But, I should probably go get ready to carry my team to victory.” He lingers in my personal space longer than he should and then finally heads off after Jason, my gaze locked on his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He pours himself a drink, raises the glass my way, and then gives his attention to his team as the festivities begin.

No matter where I stand throughout the evening, I’m aware of Frank, of this energy seething between us. Judging by the looks he sends my way, he’s just as aware of me as I am of him.

The challenge is aptly named. The requirements for the building get rattled off and scrawled across a whiteboard. I stare at the list, dumbfounded. There’s no way all of that can be incorporated into a structure that makes any kind of sense. Ideas bounce through my head, none of which I have enough knowledge about to know if they’d work or not, but they capture my attention and I find a piece of paper and start doodling.

The teams argue and debate over bouts of inspiration and frustration. I watch Frank throughout it all, my attention split between him and the silly drawing in front of me. He’s magnificent.

The light in his eyes when he gets an idea.

The way he paces when he listens to his team.

The cords in his forearm twitching as he finishes his first drink and sets down his glass.

The heat in his gaze when it settles on mine.

If he has to be careful about flirting at work, he’s going to have to stop looking at me like that. There’s no question what he’s thinking. Once, Jason catches him, follows his line of sight to me, and then captures Frank’s attention with a raised brow.

“See what I mean?” Nora appears beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. “They pretend to hate it—” she gestures toward the participants “—but they love it. For people like you and me, it’s less exciting.” She shrugs. “But it’s kind of fun, watching them get all geeked out like this.” The bit of slang sounds strange, coming from her lips.

“It is fun,” I say as I put down my pen and cover my drawing with my hand. The last thing I want is for her to see my ridiculous attempt at Impossible Design and feel like she has to make me feel good about my doodles.

Nora peers into my lap. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I doodle when I’m bored.” I flatten my hand so as to cover up more of the silly building I drew. “Their inspiration inspired me, but I’m no architect.”

Undeterred, Nora lifts my hands and makes a surprised face. “That’s not bad at all. You should show them. They’d rip it to shreds because there’s no way it would meet code, but maybe they’d pay enough attention to stop regurgitating the same ideas all the time and try something new.” Nora laughs at herself and flits away, making a beeline for the alcohol while I shove my drawing into my purse and promise myself never to doodle at work again.

My gaze goes to Frank. Our eyes meet and excitement soars through my veins. He smiles, a private thing meant just for me, and then gives his attention back to Jason.

The night passes and each team presents their design. There’s much debate about the merits and failures of each idea, a good amount of heckling and congratulations, and then, apparently, the evening evolves into a party. Drinks are poured and people pair off into groups and couples. Laughter and conversation fill the space.

I look for Frank, my eyes scouring the room, a small bubble of panic swelling in my chest as I realize he’s nowhere to be found.

“Looking for someone?” The voice comes from behind me and sends a ripple of goosebumps down my spine.

I turn to find Frank standing closer to me than I anticipated. My breath catches. “You,” I manage. “I was looking for you.”

“You found me.” He lifts a bottle of water in the direction of the crowded room. “What did you think of your first day?”

We chat about work. About the evening. About my thoughts on Impossible Design. As generic and boring as we keep the conversation, there’s no way to hide the heat between us.

The lingering glances.

The charged pauses.

It takes conscious effort not to touch him.

Not to lean into him.

To keep it professional.

I take a deliberate step back and angle my body away from his. “This firm seems like an amazing place to work.” I make a sweeping gesture to indicate the space and the people occupying it.

Frank bobs his head. “I’ll be the first to admit that we are so spoiled here. I don’t know if I could handle a typical corporate environment, all stuffy suits and pretense. I’m really happy to work for a firm that fosters creativity and community.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “But all that aside, I’m really sorry about this afternoon with Bree. That woman…”

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