Page 14 of She Was Made for Me

Kyle: Meet me at the house in an hour to discuss planning.

No ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ or ‘hey I was going to ask you out yesterday but then you turned out to be my friend’s daughter and now I don’t know what to do’—straight to business.

I had planned to use this morning for more research, to learn about the type of building we’re working on, and some common pitfalls in townhouses of that era. I’d begun this late last night but barely made it to 11 p.m. before my eyes started drooping. Only a few days out from leaving my job and I’m already losing my edge.

I check the timestamp on the message from Kyle, frowning when I notice it was sent forty minutes ago.

Shit. Research will have to wait.

I throw the covers off and lurch upright on Sadie’s sofa, scrambling for my toiletries bag and a change of clothes. I fire off a quick ‘sure thing’ in response, have a three-minute shower, throw on my clothes, then pause in front of the coffee maker. I could grab a coffee now, or I could stop in at Joe’s again and grab one for both meandKyle—an apology for being late and a peace offering after the awkwardness of yesterday. A sort ofI know that was weird, but let’s start over and kick butt on this project togethergesture.

“Morning,” Sadie sing-songs as she breezes into the kitchen, her saffron-yellow silk robe billowing out behind her. “How’d you sleep?”

I turn to my friend with a smile. “Good, thanks.” It’s true. Her boyfriend didn’t stay over, so my ears were blissfully free from the sounds of them going to town on each other.

“Sorry I can only offer you the sofa.” She tucks a strand of her unruly red hair behind her ear and reaches for a coffee mug. “I know it’s not that comfortable.”

“No problem. I appreciate you letting me crash.” Although that raises a good point. If I’m sticking around for a while to manage this project, I’ll need somewhere to stay besides my friend’s couch. Especially if I want more uninterrupted nights of sleep.

I push the thought away, telling myself that’s something to worry about later.

“Where are you headed?” Sadie asks as I reach for my bag.

“Meeting with Kyle on the job site today.” I told Sadie all about yesterday’s events: the handsome-underneath-his-scruff stranger who bought me a coffee and flirted with me, how I was sure he was going to ask me out, and then how he turned out to be Dad’s friend. She thought it was hot that Kyle is older, and I agree. Last time I hooked up with a guy my own age I had to pay for dinneranddrive him home. And don’t get me started on how mediocre the sex was.

Sadie’s lips twitch with a barely restrained smile. “Seeing your dad’s hot friend again? Nice.”

I wince. “Can we not call him ‘my dad’s hot friend’? That’s weird. True, but weird.”

She laughs into a sip of coffee. “Sure. But you’re going ahead with the project?”

I chew my lip, nodding. “I think so.” Sadie knows all about the misunderstanding between me and Dad, and when I said I wasn’t sure about this project, she told me there’s no reason I shouldn’t take it on.

“Good. You’re qualified and I think you’ll be great.” She grins at me, full of confidence. “You’ve got this, babe.”

“Thanks.” It’s nice to have someone believe in mewithouttheir conviction being based on a lie.

She turns her attention to the refrigerator and I remember I’m running late.

“Have a fab day.” I wave over my shoulder as I dart from the kitchen.

“You too!” she calls. “Sneak a picture of that scruffy hottie for me!”

* * *

I’ma little late meeting Kyle. I would have been earlier if I hadn’t stopped for coffee, but that’s a necessity. And I really want to smooth things over with him, so we can start off on the right foot.

In hindsight, arriving on time would have helped that, but it’s too late now.

It took two trains to get here from Sadie’s apartment in Bushwick, and when I finally climb the front steps to the building, I realize I’m nervous. Which is silly, of course. Kyle might be Dad’s friend but he’s also a nice enough guy—that much was clear yesterday. I just need to hand him the coffee, address the elephant in the room, then we can put it behind us.

“You’re late,” Kyle grumbles when I push open the front door.

Jeez, I’m not even in the building yet.

“Sorry, yes.” My hands are full with the coffee, so I push the door closed with my butt and turn to smile at him.

He’s standing in the entry hall in shorts and work boots, a red flannel shirt open over a plain white tee, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The same cap from yesterday contains the mass of dark hair on his head, and he holds a clipboard in one hand as he frowns at me.

---