Page 43 of The Snowflake Effect

The rest is a dizzying verbal tennis match.

“He seemed proficient to me,” Kolton says. “Quite experienced.”

“Didn’t care for his delivery.”

“I’ve never heard complaints about his delivery before.”

“Maybe those attending had low standards.”

Hilary studies us, eyes narrowed, probably wondering why I’m giving our potential client such a hard time. And I can’t understand why he’s flirting with me here, now, when there’s so much on the line for me.

“Maybe you’re thinking of the pink-haired woman who was there,” I counter as my teeth chatter, hypothermia imminent. The image of that quirky beauty whispering to him doesn’t help my shaking. “She seemed keen. A real go-getter.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Definitely not. I specifically remember your comments, and that design book of yours.” He turns his focus to Hilary. “I like your firm and everything you’ve said, but, to be honest, I chose your team because of Shay. She has some specific designs and ideas I’d like to use in the shop. If I’m going to sign on here, she’ll have to be the lead designer.”

There’s no mistaking Cruella’s muttered, “Fuck me,” or how Ramiro’s jaw drops.

But it’s Hilary’s “I see” that has me shrinking in my seat. “I’m not sure Shay has the experience needed to pull together a job of this magnitude.” Her leather chair squeaks as she clasps her hands on the table.

“I appreciate that,” Kolton says. “But she’s the reason I’m here, and I’m sure you can support her as we plan the space.”

First, the Asshole ambushes me at work after I meet his son and whoever the hell that pink-haired woman is. Now he’s bribing my employer to promote me?

My eyelid twitches as my mind whirs. If he thinks meddling in my life will win him any favors with me, he’s mistaken. If I get a promotion, it’ll be on my merit, not because some guy wants another slice of my pie.

Hilary taps one hand on the table. “If Shay’s up for the challenge, I can’t think of any reason not to oblige. I, for one, would love to see her designs.”

All eyes are on me, my damn eye twitch unrelenting. I dig my fingernails into my palms and do my best not to hiss out my words. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Hilary. But do you mind if I speak with Kolton in private to discuss his proposal?”

Her gaze flicks from Kolton to me. Then she says, “Take all the time you need. I’ll run over the logistics with Ramiro and Maeve while you two iron out”—her sharp eyes land on me—“whatever issues you have. This is an important opportunity for us all.”

Hilary is polite as always, but her meaning is clear: lose this client, and I lose my job.

“It sure is,” I say. Twitch, twitch, twitch goes my eyelid.

CHAPTER 18

SHAY

Kolton follows me to the conference-room door, and I hold it open for him to exit first. I drag it shut, wincing from the grinding sound, making sure it’s securely closed. No need for anyone to hear the shit storm about to go down.

I march toward the slightly less frigid kitchen with Kolton on my heels.

Once through the doors, I swivel and shake my finger at his smug face. “I don’t care that you omitted having a kid or lied about your job. You didn’t owe me anything in Aspen, and you don’t owe me anything now. But you waltz in here with your ‘conference’ talk, manipulating things so I’m designing your new store, so what? You can get into my pants again? I may need this job, but I have my pride.”

I heave so hard, another button pops open on my blouse.

Kolton’s eyes scorch a trail down my neck to the more-than-ample cleavage showing. He steps closer. Too close. “I want you for the job, Shay, because your sketches are the best I’ve seen.” He makes eye contact and softens his voice. “I want you for the job because I think you can work those cool tattoo designs you did for Raven into the theme. You said yourself how much you’d like to use that concept to transform a space. That’s exactly what I’m after.”

His acknowledgment of my work loosens something in my chest, but I’m not letting him off that easily. “So why not mention it? We’ve been texting. Silly, nothing texts, but you could’ve let me in on this plan of yours. Maybe even told me what you really do for a living. What kind of moron springs this on someone?”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Look. I’m sorry I lied about my job. It can be a bad scene when women find out what Sawyer and I do, and since we weren’t pursuing things after Aspen, I didn’t see the point in telling you back then.”

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. But why now, why like this?”

He sighs and brushes a stray curl off my shoulder. “I want you for the design job because of your talent, but based on the Shay I met in Aspen, I figured if you knew my intentions to hire you, you’d push back. You’d say no, thinking I was using this as a way to hook up again.”

“And that’s not what this is?”