No, this was not one-sided.
She felt all of this, too.
Vic was sure of it.
But what would it all mean?
Tachina stepped out of her car, the brisk fall air nipping at her cheeks. The downtown Cleveland skyline glimmered against the lake. The sun reflected off the glass and threw sparkles across the water. She hefted the strap of her messenger bag onto her shoulder. She inhaled the crisp scent of concrete, coffee, and the lake. Today she felt as if she could take on the world one design at a time. This morning she had a big one. A historic building right on the lakefront that was in need of a modern redesign.
This was a dreamproject.
Her mind raced with so many ideas as she approached the scaffolding and construction equipment that lined the street. New steel beams glinted against the stone, and she imagined glass walls opening to allow sunlight to spill into the open floor plan she had drafted. This was going to be amazing. She was going to be able to leave her mark on Cleveland. Maybe this would earn her recognition at any of the esteemed architectural design awards.
She ducked under the temporary fence and made her way to the foreman. He was an older burly man who could be as grumpy as a grizzly bear and reminded her of one. Tom had been giving her pushback from the moment they’d first met to go over the project. He was already scrutinizing the blueprints laid out on the folding table in front of him, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pencil wedged behind his ear.
“Morning, Tom,” Tachina called out.
She tried to remain nice and kind, but this man grated on her nerves. They didn’t have to like each other, but they had to work together.
“You’re not going to like what I’m going to say, Ms. Winston.” He squinted at her as she arrived.
For a fall day, the sun was certainly shining. There was no amount of grumpiness from this man that could ruin her mood.
This past weekend had put a smile on her lips. If only she could rewind time and go back to Sunday morningwhen she and Vic had woken up together. This time slowly. Sensually. Without the interruption of a certain four-year-old running into the room. That morning had been earth-shattering. This time, instead of waking up to the sound of her son whispering, it was to her legs being spread and a certain man’s tongue sliding through her slick pussy.
Tachina coughed and cleared her throat. That was not what she was supposed to be thinking about right now while at a job site.
“Oh? And what might that be?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
He tapped his fingers down on the plans. “You want a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows along the lakefront and you want them to curve slightly. I’ve been on jobs like this before. This can be trouble. This design is too ambitious.”
Tachina clamped her lips together and fought back the irritation that threatened to erupt. She tightened her hold on the strap of her bag and glanced down at the blueprints before returning her gaze to him. She straightened to her full height and was not going to back down.
“Tom, I appreciate your concern, but I’m an architectural designer. I know what I am doing. Curves, windows, waterfront. This will be the reason this building will stand out.” She knew the real reason he was giving her pushback. It wasn’t because of the design. It was because it was she who’d designed it. Had she been born a he, she was sure they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“Designers.” He snorted. He took a hefty sip of his coffee and swallowed. He motioned to her with his cup. “You people are always confident, but that type of curve? You’re going to need an architect to draw it out structurally or it’ll collapse.”
Now he was pissing her off.
You people?
What exactly had he meant by that?
She set her bag down on the table and opened it to pull out her binder of notes and small plans for the building. She placed it on the table. Not only was she having a hand in the design on the outside of the structure but the full rein of the structures. This was going to be a masterpiece. The project called for luxury apartments, storefronts, and restaurants. This building deserved to stand out and be an attraction.
“Tom, I am that architect,” she snapped. Fire rose inside her. This was not the first—and she was sure it wasn’t going to be the last time—she had to remind someone of what and who she was on projects. “This is my vision. Trust me, it will work. The structure will support it. The clients will love it.”
She doubted that Tom knew where she had gotten her inspiration from. The Glasshouse, one of the most beautiful and famous structures in the world, had been designed by Norman Foster. She loved the creativity and flow of the building. Glass and steel were some of the most sought-after materials in modern buildings. She had studied Mr. Foster’s work andlooked forward to the day where she’d finally be able to bring her vision, inspired by him, to fruition. Now was the time.
Tom had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at her. He appeared unconvinced that she knew what she was talking about. He didn’t know the countless hours she’d put into this, or the engineers she’d worked with to ensure her idea would work so she could bring this design to life.
Tachina took a step closer to him, hands on her hips. She wasn’t about to let him talk down to her. She didn’t care how long he’d been in the field. She knew what she was doing and she’d go through him and whoever else she needed to produce her design.
The sound of dress shoes clicked against the concrete and stopped her mid-argument. Her gaze flicked to where it was coming from, and her stomach did a tiny flip.
Vic.
He walked onto the site with his project manager, Bill, perfectly dressed in a tailored navy suit that made the construction site feel suddenly dull and boring. His posture was rigid, professional, commanding. He had the type of presence that made people stop and pay attention to him before he’d even addressed them.