Page 10 of Single-Minded
“And?”
“They demoed half the main floor down to studs. The kitchen is today.”
“Yay, demo,” she said dryly. “You know what I really want to hear about. Or rather who.”
I finished the food in my mouth. “I’m unreasonably attracted to him,” I said in as unbothered a voice as I could manage. Inside, I was bothered just thinking about him. “That guy-in-a-tool-belt thing? It’s for real.”
“Yeah,” she said, making it a two-syllable word with the tone of du-uhh.
“He’s not my type,” I said. “Just like you said at the party.”
When I’d spotted West Aldridge at Rowan and Chance’s gender-reveal party, something had happened to me. There was almost an actual click of lust locking into place. I’d never experienced anything like it before. Not on that level.
“And yet?” Chloe prompted.
I shook my head. “He made it clear we’re business only.”
She tilted her head. “Understandable. Your project is big. He’ll probably be in your house for weeks.”
I couldn’t deny the way my blood heated at that thought. “I might’ve had a handyman-nailing-me fantasy or two last night,” I said, grinning. “Another reason I need something to occupy my mind and my hours. In his mind, I’m his client and nothing else.”
“Rowan said he’s all about his little girls and doesn’t do relationships.”
“I wouldn’t want a relationship, just a mutual relieving of tension. A satisfaction of curiosity. I doubt we have anything in common.”
Chloe shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll get to know more about him if he’s spending eight hours a day in your home.”
“Possibly,” I said, though I wasn’t so sure. We’d talked a few times yesterday, but it was only about the project. That and I’d given him the garage code so they could get in whether I was home or not. “Ideally I won’t be sitting around at home all day every day.”
“Which brings us back to, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
I shoved the last big bite of waffle into my mouth, hoping the sugar rush would compensate for the unpleasantness her question aroused.
“I used to like that you were so direct,” I grumped once my food was gone.
“You still like that I’m direct.” Chloe pointed at me with her fork. “Sitting around, planting flowers isn’t doing it for you. What would? A part-time job somewhere like the boutique? A gym membership and a personal trainer?”
“No and no,” I said easily, though I should definitely consider the trainer.
“What about finance stuff? Could you open a personal financial-services business?”
I had the background for that, but advising individuals on saving and investing sounded like torture. Some people were made for nurturing, hand-holding, and teaching, which would be a lot of what a small-town financial-services business would entail, but that wasn’t me.
I’d gone into finance to make big money. I didn’t care if people judged me for that. It was who I was, who my background had made me, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it. But I was going to be honest with myself about what called to me.
I made a gagging sound as I automatically reached for my mug, then stopped myself from taking a drink.
Chloe laughed. “Okay, so we know what you don’t like. What do you like?”
“Coffee,” I said, staring at the butterscotch-colored, diluted joe in my mug. “Good coffee.”
“So you said,” she said indulgently. “Talk to Monty, the owner here. Suggest some better coffee.”
My mind was off and running in a different direction. “What if I opened my own coffee shop instead?”
Anyone else might not’ve taken me seriously, but my business-school bestie took the baton and went. “You’ve got the money, the coffee knowledge, and the business background.”
I sat up straighter, my sad mug forgotten, and met Chloe’s gaze. Without words, we shared the understanding that this could be exactly what I did for my next career.
