“I’m almost done.”
“You’ve been ‘almost done’ for two hours. You’re stress-revising a document that doesn’t need revising to prove a point to a man who won’t read it.”
The accuracy of that statement was annoying enough to make her lift her hands from the keyboard and mouse.
“Walk with me,” he said. “One hour. The place is called Lakeside. Let’s walk around the lake.”
“It’s a retention pond,” she corrected, trying not to notice his hair was doing the thing over his forehead. His sleeves were rolled up. Once again, even his bad arm looked good.
And he was giving her “the look”—the one that said,I’m not going to force you, but I’m right and you know it.
“Okay,” she said, giving in because…yeah, he was irresistible. “But I’m not going home until this clubhouse has three thousand indoor square feet and a pavilion where Vance’s kids will not be allowed to play.”
He snorted a laugh and put a hand on her shoulder. “Change your fancy shoes.”
For some reason, the fact that he knew she kept sneakers in her bottom drawer for job site walks touched her. It went well above and beyond “admin” duties and sailed right into…boyfriend duties.
Stop it, Mer.
Closing her eyes, she yanked open the drawer and pulled out her filthy Nikes.
“’Kay.” She was done fighting.
Construction had stopped for the day, with the trucks gone, deep muddy tracks in their wake. Dumpsters dotted the partially paved streets, with the occasional Porta-Potty in between.
But past all that, in the center of the Lakeside development, was a modest body of water ringed by a walking trail thatwould eventually be landscaped with native plantings and park benches.
Right now, it was mostly cleared land with a gravel path and a few young live oaks that would someday provide shade to walkers and bikers and moms with strollers.
The late afternoon light was soft, the humidity dropping toward bearable, and some birds sang as if celebrating the end of the noise and the disappearance of hard hats.
They walked in silence for a few minutes and Meredith felt her shoulders drop incrementally with each step, the tension of the day loosening its grip.
“You don’t have this job because of your dad,” Connor said.
She looked at him. “Did I say that?”
“It’s what you’ve been thinking since the meeting.”
“Well, Vance practically demanded Eli Lawson or else.” She shook her head. “And please don’t tell me he has it in for me because I’m too detail oriented.”
“Just remember something, Mer.”
She looked up at him, deeply aware it was the first time he’d ever used the nickname reserved for only her very closest friends and family. “Yes?”
“It’s the other way around. Acacia won the projectbecauseof you.”
“You don’t know that.”
He lifted a brow. “Do not underestimate your secretary’s ability to suss out the old 411 from the gals in the employee breakroom.”
Like all of the silly things he said, that made her laugh. “They’re talking about me at the water cooler?”
“Essentially, yes. The gossip is that the Alastair model won the bid. Full stop. No one else had anything even close. In fact, Greg Hollister’s assistant?—”
“Doris? I actually think that’s his mother.”
“It is, but she doesn’t think people know that because she’s had work done, you know. And if anyone knew she had a forty-something son, it would kill her vibe. Direct quote.”