Page 59 of Let It Breathe
“Whatever you say.”
“Go home, Eric. Say hello to Sheila.”
“You want help with the dishes?”
“I’ve got it, thanks.”
“Goodnight, Riesling.”
“Goodnight, bastard.”
Eric gave her a chaste peck on the forehead, which she answered with a soft punch to his gut.
“Ow,” he muttered, grinning as he headed toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
As soon as he was gone, Reese closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cupboard.
She didn’t love Clay. She couldn’t love Clay.
She thumped her head on the cupboard a few times, willing it to be true.
Clay put off going into Reese’s office for as long as he could the next day. Finally, there was no avoiding it.
She looked up the instant he knocked on the doorframe, her green eyes flashing under the fluorescent lights. Her hair slid back over her shoulders, framing her face in a cinnamon-gold halo, and Clay felt his breath catch in his throat.
“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for coming over last night.”
He nodded, trying not to think about what her hair would feel like sliding through his fingers. He didn’t see it down too often, and he ached to reach out and touch it. He pushed the thought out of his mind and cleared his throat. “Thank you for dinner. It was great.”
Reese smiled. “Even when things got a little weird with Larissa?”
“I’ve known Larissa since she was a teenager,” he said, returning her smile. “When do things not get weird with her?”
“It’s part of her charm. What’s up?”
Clay hesitated a moment at the threshold, then came in and shut the door behind him. He dropped into the chair in front of her desk and rested his clipboard on his lap.
“We’re reaching a point where you’re going to need to make some decisions,” he said. Seeing her face register alarm, he gripped the edge of his clipboard tighter. “About the building. Decisions about the building project, I mean.”
“I know what you meant,” Reese said. “I’ve got an appointment with the bank tomorrow to discuss additional financing in light of your increased estimate.”
“Technically, it’s not our estimate that increased,” Clay pointed out. “It’s the price of materials.”
Reese rolled her eyes. “What’s the point in having an estimate if the numbers are completely arbitrary?”
“They weren’t arbitrary. They were based on market conditions at the time. It’s not our fault material costs went up.”
Reese gritted her teeth. “I’m not going to argue with you. I’m too tired, and the bottom line is that we can’t do anything about the price of the stupid fly ass.”
“Fly ash.”
“What?”
“It’s fly ash, not fly ass.”
“Whatever,” she said, beautiful in her flustered state. “Just give me a few days to work things out with the bank. Do you and your crew have enough you can do in the meantime?”
