Page 15 of Paradise in Progress
That makes my anger flare. “Of course I am,” I snap, glaring at my brother’s retreating back.
I’ve never given him a reason to doubt me at work. Yes, there was a time when I confided in my brother that I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for Nelson Signature. But I put my dreams aside to work for my father’s company, just as he always wanted. Since making that decision, I’ve been putting my all into my dad’s company. I started interning for him during school and kept at it, working my way up to Project Manager from the entry level position I took right after college. There has never been a question about my dedication to our family’s company and the path I’d take that was laid out for me as soon as I showed an interest in being an architect.
Or at least there wasn’t one out loud, but I can be honest enough with myself to admit that. Though I’m grateful I had a job the second I graduated, and I didn’t have to compete for a position at another firm, sometimes I wish I could have started out somewhere else. Just for a year or two to see what it’s like to leave New York. I’d always come back, as this is home, but the chance to live in another city, be on my own, it might have been great. Hell, I didn’t even get to try going to college somewhere else. NYU was it for me. And as much as I wanted to become an architect, a part of me wonders how long that was instilled in me. Did I always want to be like my dad, or was that the seed he planted?
As soon as I step foot in the conference room, I’m greeted by the smell of vanilla and lavender. My eyes immediately find hers as she brings a mug up to those perfect heart-shaped lips I’ve thought about way too many times since meeting Kennedy Reed.
Narrowing my eyes, I watch as she takes a long sip from— Wait? “Did yousteal my mug?”
The corners of her lips twitch as I follow her swallow down her long, slender neck. She pulls the mug from her mouth, spinning it as if she’s just now realizing which one she’s holding. The white ceramic mug has‘I’m An ArcateckArckatectArchitechI Draw Stuff’written on one side. Victoria bought it for me for Christmas one year as a gag gift. It was the perfect edition to my coffee mug collection since I could not spell “architect” to save my life. Hell, there’re still some days when I struggle with spelling that damn word.
Lips pursing in a tiny smirk, those deep emerald eyes glimmer with mischief. “Hmm, borrowed. I wouldn’t dare think to steal from Mr. Golden Boy.” Her little nickname for me has always flustered me, but after the way my brother insinuated I wasn’t taking this project seriously this morning, it really strikes a match inside of me, causing my jaw to clamp tight. “Besides, you left it in the kitchen.”
Grinding my teeth together, I stare her down. Two can play this game, Kennedy. “I can’t even trust you with my mug.”
“But you trust me with this project?” Her eyebrow quirks as the slightest bit of insecurity flashes across her face. If I didn’t know her cues as well as I do, I would have missed her moment of vulnerability.
“Barely,” I snark, taking my seat across from her. “You do have your moments when you know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s high praise coming from you.”
“I’m not the bad guy you think I am, Ken.”
She sucks in a small breath as she digests my words. Clearing her throat, she shuffles her papers around, changing the subject. “Let’s get this started?”
“We’re just waiting on Xander. Apparently, he thinks he needs to sit in on all our meetings.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
“He seems to think we’ll rip each other apart and never finish this project.” She cringes, because she knows full well that she’s the reason why there are trust issues between us, and that’s why it feels like there are issues with the project.
“Ready?” Xander muses. I turn and find him pausing in the doorway. The tension is palpable in the small space, but it’s not with the same animosity as it normally is. There’s something else mixed in, causing him to squint his eyes as he observes the two of us.
Kennedy nods and pulls up her renderings on the screen. “Ready.”
I can feel Xander’s eyes boring into the side of my face, but I refuse to look at him, so I turn my attention back to Kennedy. After basically admitting no one in the company trusts my judgement and now this, I don’t have the energy for either of them. I’m looking forward to the end of this meeting when I can cut out early and hit a cycling class.
“We are a month into the project, and while we’ve sent all the specs to our construction team, there are a few items we need to work through,” I say, standing from my seat and making my way to the screen, which has an aerial view of the property. “As you can see, there’s an empty parking lot on the northwest side. Currently, it’s consideredwasted space since there are only a couple of local bars and public beach access that really use it. Not the best use of what’s there. So we’ve purchased the property in our acquisition.”
“You’re taking more away from the locals?” Kennedy interrupts, her voice dripping with disdain.
“If you would let me finish,” I grit out, and her face heats. “While we have purchased the property, we don’t want to take anything away from the locals. However, the space needs a facelift. The concrete has deteriorated, and sand has blown in and started to take over. It’s an eyesore for everyone with businesses around it and for all the locals trying to sell their goods to tourists and guests headed to hike the National Trust. What it needs is a refresh. Do you have a few ideas that might work both for us and the locals?”
A wide grin spreads across her face. “I’ve got the perfect idea.”
“Of course you do,” I mumble sarcastically.
Her eyes roll, and she turns attention from me to where my brother is sitting. “A farmer’s market.”
“A farmer’s market,” he repeats.
“Yes, locals are already trying to sell their goods, so why not make it more official.”
Kennedy stands, and I can’t stop my eyes from raking over her hourglass figure. It’s hugged by fitted black slacks and a green blouse, my eyes catching at the hint of cleavage she's showing and up to the top of her head, where instead of the usual curls, it sits high and sleek in a ponytail. My fingers twitch to wrap it around my fist, preferably as she drops to her knees. Shit. I shake my head and turn my attention back to Kennedy, who’s watching me, something unreadable in her eyes.
Does she know what I was thinking?
“Earth to Golden Boy?”
