Page 18

Hallie

“Tyler’s renovation show starts filming its new season in two weeks from Monday,” Tina says during our weekly design meeting. “So, if we’re not in the office, it’s because we’re on set. But of course, I’ll have my phone on me at all times.” She checks the clipboard in her hand. “And the last thing on the agenda for today is project check-ins. Hallie, how’s the DeLuca project coming along?”

Every person sitting around the conference table turns in my direction.

“It’s... coming along.”

Clearly, that’s not enough of an answer, because Tina stares at me to continue.

I fiddle with the yellow note in my hands. “The initial concepts will be finalized this week, and once Mr. DeLuca signs off on them, the crew can start the demo.”

The name “Mr. DeLuca” feels strange on my tongue, but referring to him as Rio in front of my colleagues also feels too informal.

Tyler sits forward in his fancy fitted suit, elbows on the table. “Hallie, get me those final designs that Mr. DeLuca approves of before I start filming. I want to see them in the next two weeks, just to get another set of eyes on them.”

“Of course. I’ll get them over to you as soon as I can.”

It’s common practice for Tyler to check over the interns’ designs. It’s the same process I went through when I worked on Wren’s house, and I appreciate the second set of eyes. Especially his eyes. He’s seasoned in the field and beyond talented. I’m happy to take note of the things he would adjust and why. I’m happy to learn from him in any way I can.

The rest of the designers go around the table, debriefing their projects. I only listen halfheartedly, too occupied with unfolding and refolding the small yellow note in my hands.

I unfold it to read it for what feels like the hundredth time since Rio left it on my doorstep this morning. It was stuck to the top of a to-go cup of coffee, accompanied by spare keys to both his house and his car.

Thanks for letting me keep you up last night.

You should’ve seen the latte art today. It was my best one yet until I took a sip.

Drive my truck while I’m gone, please.

-R

I bite back my smile, recalling finding it all on my front step this morning just as Rio was climbing into Zanders’ car, headed for the airport. That armor I’ve worn to protect myself from him has been growing weaker every day, and this, combined with that kiss last night, isn’t helping the cause.

Our weekly meeting ends, and I file out with my coworkers, finding my way back to my cubicle. On my computer, I pull up Rio’s project files—the aesthetic collage I’ve been drooling over, the color palettes I’ve dreamed of, and the 3D mockup of his home that I can’t wait to see come to life once I implement my ideas.

It helps that someone from our team stopped by there to get accurate pictures, videos, and measurements when he first hired the firm, so I have all the information I need to work with.

It’s only been about a week of thinking over his home design, but I’ve had fun with it. So much so that on Sunday, my day off from this job, I pulled out my work computer to get started. Spending time with him lately has been a helpful reminder that he’s still the same person I knew growing up. The same man I know better than anyone else.

It makes this project all the more freeing, giving me the ability to flow creatively instead of second-guessing the clients’ taste with each and every decision. The things that I love in home design, Rio will too. I know this because I used to explain in detail what I envisioned our future home to look like and he agreed with every part of it.

Essentially, what this project is, is the opportunity to design the house I’ve always dreamed of us sharing. Only now, that home I’m designing isn’t ours. It’s his . Which is a hell of a reality check, if I do say so myself.

Tyler’s timeline is rattling around in my brain, reminding me to get to work, so I grab my phone to keep Rio in the loop.

Me: Hi. I need to chat with you about a few work-related things. Do you have time?

Rio: We’re about to land. I’ll call you as soon as we do.

Me: That’s okay. We can text.

Rio: Okay. How’s your day going?

Rio: Also, I want to kiss you again.

Straight to the point, I see. Chuckling to myself, I lean back in my chair with my phone in my hands.

Me: I meant we could text about work-related things.

Rio: Right. So, about that kiss...

I can picture the shit-eating grin on his face as he types, but I don’t let him veer me off track.

Me: I’m finishing up your initial design concepts this week. There are a few things I need you to choose between in the next two weeks. Layout, wall colors, that kind of thing.

Rio: I’m not home for two weeks.

Me: That’s okay. I’ll email everything over. Concepts, samples, etc. It shouldn’t take long. I just wanted you to be aware to keep an eye on your inbox.

Rio: No can do. I want all the decisions to be made in person.

Rio: With you.

That is... not what I was expecting for him to say. In fact, when I started this project, it was with the belief that Rio would make sure most of our communication was done over email to avoid being in the same room as me.

My thumbs are frozen over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.

Me: Rio.

Rio: Hallie.

Me: Don’t be needy. I have to get my job done.

Rio: Needy is literally my number one personality trait.

Me: Well, in person is not going to work. I need to turn these concepts in to my boss before you’re home. It’s a hard deadline.

Rio: No deal, Hart.

I inhale a centering breath because the man is going to make me lose my mind.

Me: You don’t need me to be there for you to tell me what you like.

Rio: That’s probably true. If I’m remembering correctly, you did always know exactly what I liked.

His lack of subtlety has my mouth gaping open because we both know he’s not referring to interior design. But again, I don’t let him deter me. We’re friends now, even though he kissed me senselessly and now I’m the only one trying to hold up the professional part of our working agreement.

Me: Remember how you let me take on this project to hopefully land a full-time job at the firm? Missing a deadline is for sure going to make me look bad.

Rio: I never said you had to miss your deadline. Get on a plane and meet me.

Me: You’re out of your mind.

Rio: Trust me, Hallie. For the first time in about six years, I’m thinking perfectly clearly.

He’s lost it. He’s absolutely lost it if he thinks I have the funds or the time to jump on a plane to have a conversation that would be equally as productive as an email.

But maybe if I can explain it to Tyler, he’d understand. He said it himself. Rio’s schedule is complicated because of his career. I just need a few extra days to turn in final approvals once the hockey team is back in town.

It’s nearing the end of the workday, so I drop my phone on my desk and head straight for Tyler’s office, hoping he’s still here. Thankfully, he is, standing in the far corner of his office with a stunning view of the river behind him, staring at a few different wallpaper swatches tacked to a corkboard.

He doesn’t look in my direction when I stop at his door, but somehow, he still knows it’s me.

“Hallie, powder bath. Eclectic and moody vibes. Which one?”

“Who’s the client?”

“Me.”

“The one on the left, obviously.” I walk into his office with that answer.

He smiles to himself, taking the sample off the corkboard and placing it on his desk. “I knew I liked you.”

“Well, you might not like me after what I’m about to tell you. I need an extension on that deadline for the DeLuca project.”

Tyler takes a seat behind his desk. “No can do. Filming starts soon and I’m going to be way too busy to do any project approvals.”

“Well, the thing is, my client wants to make all the decisions in person, and he’s on a two-week trip for work. So, he won’t be able to make it back until—”

“Go meet him,” Tyler says plainly.

“Excuse me?”

“Go meet him. We’re a luxury brand here, Hallie, which means we provide luxury-level customer service. If he wants to make decisions in person, go meet him in person. Tina will book you a flight and hotel. Let her know where you need to go, where you want to stay, and what day.”

I wait for him to tell me he’s kidding, that this would be a waste of time and resources, and something that can be done via email, but he doesn’t.

“I wouldn’t need a hotel,” I eventually say once I realize how serious he is. “I could go there and back. The meeting shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I don’t want him to feel like he’s being rushed. This is his home. These choices are personal.”

This very well may not be Rio’s home if he ends up selling, but I understand what Tyler is saying.

“If he has a night off from playing,” Tyler continues, “take him out for dinner. Buy a nice bottle of wine to split while he makes his design decisions. The firm will cover it. Tina will send you with a company card.”

I clearly didn’t think this through. If I had thought that jumping on a plane was a conceivable option, I never would have brought this to Tyler’s attention, because now I have to tell him why I can’t go.

“Tyler, I...” I hesitate, looking away. “I can’t do that. I have a second job. I work nights as a bartender, and I can’t afford to miss a shift.”

My eyes swing back to him cautiously, but I can’t read any sort of reaction on his face.

“You can’t afford to miss a shift because you’d get in trouble with your boss, or you can’t afford to miss a shift financially?”

“Financially.”

He nods his head silently, probably coming to the realization that though I may fit his brand with my design eye, I don’t exactly live out the Tyler Braden brand aesthetic when it comes to my personal life.

Wait until he finds out I got my Bachelor of Science in Interior Design degree from taking night courses online.

Hands intertwined, Tyler steeples his fingers under his chin. “I’ll pay you overtime for every hour you’re gone.”

My head rears back in surprise. “Wait. Really? Like even while I’m sleeping?”

He chuckles. “Yes. Even while you’re sleeping.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Are you still trying to make up for setting me up on a date with a married man?”

“Yes,” he says dryly. “Is it working?”

“It’s working great. Keep it up.”

“Find out the travel details and let Tina know.”

“Okay. Wow. Thanks, Tyler. I appreciate it.”

“Hallie,” he says, stopping me before I can make it out the door. “When I first started to try to break into this industry, I didn’t have more than ten dollars to my name. I spent my nights delivering pizza just so I could pay my rent because that’s how badly I wanted all of this.” He sweeps his arms out, as if to say this office, this view, this brand. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed to let people know how hard you’re willing to work to get what you want.”

He’s right about that. I am willing to work hard. I’ve been willing to work hard since I decided to make sacrifices to help my dad. Since I had to drop out of school and figure out how to get an education from home.

I offer him an understanding smile. “Thanks, Tyler.”

I’ve got a major pep in my step as I scurry back to my desk and grab my phone.

Me: All right, you win. Let me know where and when I’m meeting you.

My phone instantly buzzes in my hand, with Rio’s name scrolling across the top.

“Are you being serious?” he asks.

“Were you not?”

“No! I mean, yes , I was being serious. Of course I want you to come meet me on the road, but I was just being a needy asshole.”

“You really were being a needy asshole, but I told my boss you wanted to meet in person, and he was fine to cover the travel expenses.”

He hesitates. “And are you fine? With your work schedule? Please don’t miss shifts on my account.”

“Tyler is paying me overtime to hang out with you, which, by the way, is the only reason I’m willing to do it.”

“Damn. Keep me humble, Hal. I really was going to cave on the whole in-person thing, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Hey, Hallie!” someone yells into the phone.

“Sorry, that was Zee,” Rio says.

“Wait. Are you still on the plane?”

“Yeah. Just landed. Sitting on the tarmac and waiting to park.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go.”

“You don’t have to,” he says quietly.

That makes my heart skip in a way it most definitely shouldn’t. But I also feel a bit weird being on the phone with him while he’s with all his teammates. The same ones I serve when they come into the bar. Regardless of what Tyler said, that part still feels a little embarrassing.

“I need to get back to work. Text me when you figure out what day I should meet you and where. And Rio, just so you know, I’m going to be so annoyed with you if this whole thing ends up being the epitome of the phrase, ‘it could’ve been an email.’”

“Well, then.” His voice gains a gruff edge. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your time.”