Page 3 of The Amazing Date

“Wait a moment.”

He expects me to disconnect; it wouldn’t be the first time. But I give him what he’s asked for—my attention. “Yes?”

“Well, um…” I picture him in front of me, his hands flicking the ends of his too-short tie over his too-large belly. “We’ll have to talk about this behavior when I get back to the office. Where exactly are you again, and when will you be back in the office?”

“I’m sure we’ll have lots to discuss once Mr. Wentworth has seen the portrait.”

I hang up to see a smirking Gabriella staring at me. “I see you are still breaking all the rules.” She laughs.

“How much of that did you…”

Her beautiful smile disarms my concerns as she waves at me. “More than enough. Oh, by the way, Rylee says hello.” The humor in her voice fades with the mention of her best friend. I feel like a vindictive ass for carrying a grudge I should have outgrown years ago. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have daily reminders every time I looked down at the back of my hand. “She’s sorry she’s going to miss you tomorrow when she comes to town. I told her you had a work thing.”

My gaze floats down to the red clay dirt of the trail. I pull down the tip of my cap to block the harsh sun. There is nowhere left to hide. “You didn’t have to lie for me. I think she knows why I won’t be around, and if not, I’d be happy to remind her.” I don’t know why I don’t stop speaking. All the control I practice and pride myself on goes out the window with just the mention of her name.

“Are you two ever going to kiss and make up? At one point in time, you guys got along just fine. You taught her how to dance salsa, for god’s sake.” Her hopeful eyes tell me she wishes things were back the way they used to be when we were all together in Puerto Rico four years ago. She doesn’t know everything that happened between me and Rylee.

I remind myself why I keep this secret from Gabby. Rylee is her best friend; the truth would jeopardize that. “Ancient history, mi hermana. Let’s get back to it. We have two options—a flat, boring, dry, deserted, hot trail to our right that goes on for another mile and a half, or,”—my back straightens, and I point to the left—“a challenging, rocky three-quarter-mile trail that will leave you breathless, fulfilled, and happy. Do I even need to ask?”

Her warm hand lands on my shoulder, and she pushes past me on my left. “I hate that you know me so well.”

I snicker. “Must be the blood.”

Chapter 3

Rylee

Of course it had to be Zion. Of all the creative team members who are available as a replacement for Hans, it has to be the enigma known as Zion. Oil, meet water.

I tap the end of my monogrammed Cross pen on the desktop and wait for Zion to get to the point. It’s like waiting for a dragonfly to pick a direction to fly. “I think Hans’s vision for the campaign is all wrong. I want to sit with it this evening on my deck overlooking the Hudson and have it speak to me. I must warn you; I may come in tomorrow and tell you I want to start over.”

I release the pen. It lands with a thud and rolls until it hits the edge of my laptop. “I won’t be here tomorrow. Hans is already at the thirty percent mark on the deliverables—we have a schedule to maintain. When I return, we will only have a week until the client walkthroughs. We don’t have the time, budget, or the resources to re-envision this or whatever the hell you are spouting.” My words land hard, harsh as intended. Kira may let the creatives wander free-range for weeks at a time on her projects, but I don’t. Every one of my projects is delivered on time and at or under budget. It takes a strong hand to deliver that level of consistency, even if it’s not fully appreciated.

“Girl, we must have you come down to our design lab and loosen up. Here, I brought you something.” Zion is black, early thirties, and lives to annoy me. Today he’s wearing a gray hoodie with the sleeves cut off and worn jeans with paint stains. He places a plastic bag full of LEGO pieces on my desk.

I scoop them up and stuff them into my bottom drawer, along with the five other design toys he’s offered in the past.

“Damn, you aren’t even going to humor a fella. You really do need that vacation.” Zion pulls out another baggie and rips it open, the LEGO pieces spilling across the edge of my desk.

“Why? Just why, Zion? Don’t you have enough on your plate already?” I hear the harshness of my voice. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“Mean left the station four comments ago.” Zion stacks a few pieces together. “That was downright rude. If I didn’t see you treat everyone like this, I might’ve taken it personally.”

“Wait, what? I don’t treat everyone like this. I just need you guys to focus.” My gaze lowers to his thin fingers working fluidly, the LEGO pieces taking form.

“Focus comes in different shapes for different people. You need to expand your definition of productivity. Right now, you think we are just shooting the breeze, wasting time. Am I right?” His raised brow challenges me.

I shrug. “I can think of about a dozen other things I could be doing. No offense.”

“If I took offense to the way you are, I wouldn’t have volunteered for your team.”

“You volunteered? I thought…” I bite my tongue. I assumed the difficult-to-deal-with Zion was sitting idle and available.

He nods. “It’s been a minute since we’ve worked together. I hoped it wasn’t by design. I kinda like watching your drill sergeant management style—you know, the whole bull in a china shop.” His smirks fail to hide the hint of laughter that slips out. “I love the sound of broken glass. But I did learn a thing or two from you last time. Hopefully, this time you’ll pay attention and learn from the team.”

My eyes tighten at the criticism. It’s covered in a Zion smile, which eases the blow. He stands, pushing the LEGO structure toward me.

“What is it?”

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