Page 9 of Ghost's Obsession

She gives me a proud look. “I know.”

I can’t help but grin. She’s so matter of fact about it. Unless I miss my guess, she’s not even trying to be cocky or any kind of way. Heather’s just a woman who knows her own worth. That’s damn hot in my eyes.

Heather is a beautiful, self-confident woman. She doesn’t need to dress up or wear loads of makeup. She’s beautiful with a clean, natural look. She’s got a heart-shaped face with a sharp jaw, strong cheekbones, a mouth that seems more suited to no-nonsense observations than flirty smiles. But it’s her eyes that get to me the most. They’re intelligent, focused, and calm. I get the feeling she sees every moving part of this renovation and is already five steps ahead of whatever I’m thinking.

And when she talks? I listen. Every damn time. Her voice draws me in. I want to know her opinions and what she thinks about things.

I reluctantly hand her the tablet back. That’s when she pulls out a few fists of paint samples and cabinet finishes. She lays them out like cards, fanned across the table between us.

“I like to grab physical samples when I’m involved in a project,” she says. “That way, you can get a feel for what everything looks like and feel the textures for yourself.”

“Are you always this hands-on?” I ask.

“Yes. You don’t get a feel for building finishes by looking at pictures. You have to get tactile. Trust me, it gets better results.”

I lean back in my seat, studying her, trying to figure out what makes her tick. Heather’s not just good at her job. That’s a mild understatement. She’s phenomenal. The kind of person who takes genuine pride in her work. I clearly lucked out by hiring her. I respect the hell out of her dedication to other people’s projects.

I probably should be paying her a hell of a lot more. And it’s messing with my head.

I’ve told myself over and over that our relationship is supposed to be just business. That’s the way she wants it, so that’s the way it has to be. But my heart and my head are saying two very different things when it comes to Heather. Every time we’re together, I catch myself watching her a little too long, thinking about her a little too much.

“Do you have time to walk through with a structural engineer?” she asks, flipping her notebook open. “I’ve got a guy I trust who could do it on Friday at six in the evening.”

“Yeah,” I say, jerking to attention. “I’ll make sure I’m there for it.”

“Good. I’ll email you the floor plans and give you a few days to decide which one you like best. After we finalize the layout, price the materials, and I’ll bring you actual finish samples so we can make real decisions.”

“And budget?”

She scribbles something quick, does some math in her head, and shoots back, “It still looks good. We’re tight, but doable if we stick to the plan.”

“Then we stick to the plan, right?”

She looks up at me then, her gaze turning admiring and a little unfocused. Having her eyes on me is so riveting I forget what we’re even talking about.

“Yeah, we stick to the plan. Definitely.”

I’m about to respond when I hear my name.

“Ghost,” Siege says as he walks up.

When I glance at him, he gives me a chin lift.

“We need you in the garage for a minute,” Siege insists. “That older guy is here about the clutch.”

“Seriously?” I mutter, glancing at the clock. “He’s two hours ahead of schedule.”

Siege shrugs. “Says he’s gotta drop off now and he wants to talk to the mechanic that’ll be working on his truck. That’s you, my friend.”

I flash him a grin. “That damn sure is me. I’ll be right there.”

I look back at Heather. “Give me ten and I’ll be back.”

She gives me a quick, unbothered nod. “Take your time. I’m going to reorganize the notes anyway.”

I stand and head out the back towards the garage.

Doesn’t take long to get the older gentleman sorted. His truck’s his baby, and he doesn’t want anything to go wrong with the repair. I stop in the clubhouse restroom on the way back, run cool water over the back of my neck, and take a second to breathe.

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