Page 42 of Crazy In Love
“You studied interior design, yet you decided to run a flower shop?” he asked.
Why the hell did he even care? What was with all the questions?
He was famously known for his aloofness.
“My grandmother got sick. I took over the flower shop. But now I want to pursue my own dreams.”
He nodded as if he was processing my words and agreeing with them. “As you should. Life is short.”
“Yes. Thanks for the ride.”
“I have one more question,” he said as my hand wrapped around the door handle.
The smell of leather, sandalwood, and cinnamon filled the inside of his car. I’d always had a keen sense of smell, and this man was hitting all the manly marks.
I groaned, feigning irritation, when in all actuality, this last hour with Bridger Chadwick had been the highlight of my day.
Of my week.
Fine, maybe even longer, but that was just because I’d been leading a very unexciting life.
“What is it?” I asked, turning to look at him.
“If you’ve opened an interior design business, why in the hell would you insult my home? Seems like the wrong business approach.” His lips twitched the slightest bit, possibly turning up in the corners for a brief flash before straightening.
“I wasn’t thinking of you as a potential client, so I was just being honest. You have a gorgeous home, but it’s lacking any sense of warmth or character.”
Similar to the man who lived inside.
He leaned closer, his face so near to mine I could hardly breathe. “Emilia, that’s where you messed up. Everyone is a potential client.”
“You hate me, or at least you did twenty minutes ago. We’re barely civil to one another. I’m not considering working for you.”
He pulled back, leaning against the seat. “If you want to make it in business, you have to expect the unexpected.”
“Thanks for the advice, oh wise one.” I chuckled. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be honest?”
“I’m saying you should play the game. You want to get this business off the ground and do this full-time eventually, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then play the goddamn game. Do whatever it takes.” He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing them.
Why was that so sexy?
Why was this broody bastard so sexy?
Maybe it was just the fact that he was my childhood crush.
Or maybe I was just emotionally drained tonight and not thinking clearly.
“I plan to.” I reached in my purse. “Here you go, Bridger Chadwick. This is my business card. I have no clients and no experience, but I know how to transform a space. I saw yourhome tonight—and I saw what it could be. If you want to hear about my vision, book an appointment with my assistant.”
“Who’s your assistant?” he asked, his gaze searching mine.
“Me. I just thought it sounded more legit.” I pushed the door open as a gust of wind blew by. He moved to step out of his car, and I held my hand up. “Stay put. It’s not a date. I won’t tell your mom.”
He rolled his eyes, and I hopped out of his car and hurried toward the front door.
