Page 42 of The Snowflake Effect

She’s been colder than usual today, no doubt reliving yesterday’s debacle, when I raced across the city, dodging construction zones and cyclists, arriving at Grecko Tile in record time to acquire an emergency sample. Apparently, it was the right shop, but the wrong location. Maeve didn’t care to mention I shouldn’t go to the store I’d been to numerous times the past month.

Still, it was my fault for assuming they only had one location.

A million red lights later, I got the sample, but her frustrated client couldn’t wait and threatened to hire another firm if a mistake happened again.

Ramiro had beamed as he rose a notch higher on their imaginary leaderboard.

“By choosing Concept,” Hilary says as she wraps up her speech, “you’re choosing style and cutting-edge design, but integrity and our clients’ needs come first.”

Ramiro bats his dark lashes. “We’ll make Moondog the talk of the city.”

Never one to let him have the last word, Maeve tips her bright red lips into her “sincere” smile. “With your vision and our guidance, Moondog will set the standard for retail shops everywhere.”

“So,” Hilary says, leaning back in her leather chair, “is there anything you’d like to discuss before we sign the papers?”

I shiver as the AC blasts into the room. Maeve, however, clicks her manicured nails on the table, looking like she’s in her natural habitat. The Ice Queen. Ramiro’s twitchy shoe taps one of the table legs, all of us waiting on Kolton.

The longer he stays quiet, the tighter I fist my cold hands.

A man doesn’t show up where a woman works, three months after hooking up, unless he has an agenda. But I can’t figure out his angle. I glance over, hoping to get a read on his intentions, and our eyes lock.

Is he smirking? And why does his shirt have to fit so snug?

I’m about to look away, when he says, “Shay, how nice to see you again.”

Shifty-eyed, I glance around the table, sure they all know I fucked our biggest client ever in a bathroom (make that two bathrooms).

Hilary sits forward. She has dark skin, voluminous curls, and an intimidatingly shrewd gaze. “I didn’t realize you knew our intern.”

If he didn’t mention me when he got here, why the hell is he acknowledging me now? What is he playing at?

Steam builds between my ears again, the pressure about to blow. “Yes, well…” I start, anger and confusion wiping my confidence.

The ignore-Kolton act was easier to perform.

“We met at a conference in Aspen,” he says before I can conjure an appropriate lie.

Maeve’s nails stop their endless ticking. “Conference? I don’t remember a conference.”

Kolton waves a hand in the air. “Not design specific. It was a spur-of-the-moment industry ski thing. It’s actually why I’ve chosen Concept. Shay shared some ideas during one of the meetings I haven’t been able to forget.” He leans on his elbows, all of that rugged handsomeness focused on me. “I’d like to revisit the finer points of our discussions. Maybe add on to the basics debated.” He licks his lips.

Excuse me? Is this guy flirting with me in front of my boss?

“Well,” Hilary says as Maeve huffs out an exasperated breath, “Shay is a promising young designer. We count ourselves lucky to have her. She’d be happy to pick up where you left off.”

Like hell, I would. Not after this surprise ambush.

I sit taller, shoulders back, knowing the red bra I’m wearing has my girls cradled perfectly, leaving a hint of cleavage visible through my unfastened top button.

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to revisit that particular conference. Personally, I found it tedious.” I tilt my head toward Maeve as if sharing a secret. “You know when you’re partway through and all you’re thinking is, God when will this end? I barely remember a thing from those monotonous discussions.”

I smile sweetly at Kolton, pleased I’m back in control of my speech. Until the AC blasts and the temperature drops, like, ten degrees, perking up my nipples. I don’t slouch or fold my arms across my chest. That would look meek. Timid. Not a way to stand my ground.

With my nipples nearing diamond-cutting territory, his gaze lowers on target.

Gruffly, he clears his throat and drags his eyes up. “Funny, I could have sworn you enjoyed the meetings. You were rather vocal in a few.”

A quiver racks my body, but I don’t know if it’s from the subzero temperature or his heated look. “I’m skilled at faking interest. Wouldn’t want the meeting leader to feel inept.”