“None?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know about the place?”
“It’s not so much the place,” she said. “Although we do have one slight complication that needs to be dealt with. Mostly it’s the owner. He’s…” Jessie paused. “Difficult.”
Complications. A difficult owner.
This was a good opportunity, I reminded myself. If I could pull this off, I’d earn a great reputation at work. I was only twenty-two, still young. I needed as many positive recommendations as possible.
“Will I be meeting the owner today?” I asked.
“If he shows up,” she said, an annoyed frown on her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have booked this appointment so early.”
“It’s one in the afternoon,” I said.
“We wanted to have a new design all ready to go by now,” she continued. “Ownership of the place officially transfers over to us today. We were hoping to begin tear down immediately and get right to work. But like I said, we haven’t had any luck finding someone who can help us.”
“When you say the owner is difficult,” I began carefully, not wanting to accidentally say something rude or insulting. “What exactly do you mean?”
Jessie gave a long-suffering sigh, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. Before she could answer, her eyes lit up and she waved to someone behind my shoulder.
“There you are,” she said before turning back to me. “Quinn, this is the new owner.”
I turned.
I stopped.
It was the guy from the bar. Connor.
His dark hair was messy and tousled, his sleepy face half-hidden behind his hand as he yawned. His jeans were rumpled. They looked like the same ones I’d admired on him before. He had on a simple black t-shirt with a leather jacket slung over one shoulder.
“Did you really have to book this meeting so early?” he asked through the yawn. “It’s barely past—”
His cut himself off abruptly, heavy-lidded eyes going wide as they met mine, eyebrows flying up on his forehead.
“Hey there…” he said slowly, drawing out the words. He lowered his jacket, holding it loosely in one hand. He turned confused eyes to Jessie.
“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Jessie told him. “Couldn’t you have at least made an effort to look well put together and professional?”
“You’re assuming I didn’t just roll out of bed,” he replied.
“And you wonder why no one will work with you,” she said.
I tried not to gape like a fish.
Connor looked just as handsome with his sleepy eyes and rumpled clothes as he had the first time I’d met him. Maybe even more so. It looked less like he was trying to impress. Instead, his attractive appearance was effortless.
It was unfair that someone should look so handsome without putting any work into it. I’d spent twenty minutes blow drying and styling my hair, while he looked like he’d simply run a hand through his and left the house as-is.
That was when I noticed a hint of a red lipstick stain on his collar.
Warning bells went off in my head, and they all said one thing:
Player.
“So you know the owner, do you?” I asked Connor.
He cocked his head at me, not flinching at his deceit.
“This is Connor Moore,” Jessie said. “He’s the new owner. Connor, this is Quinn Browning.”