by Amelia Wilde
Kelsey nods.
My heart picks up pace a bit when I see it’s a text from Cole.
Cole: Hey. Just talked to Chase. Wedding duty calls.
Me: I’m sitting waiting to go into an interview. What’s up?
Cole: That’s what she said.
Me: Seriously?
Cole: You’ve never seen The Office?
Me: Of course I’ve seen it. What I mean is that I’m kinda busy so get on with it.
Cole: That’s what she said.
Me: I’m turning my phone off now.
Cole: Hold up. Okay, I talked to Chase and we’re on deck.
Me: For what?
Cole: Meet me at the bar and I’ll fill you in.
Me: That’s what he said.
Cole: Now who’s wasting time?
Me: I’ll be over when I’m done.
Cole: I’ll still be here.
Me: K, see you then.
I power my phone off so that it won’t disturb my interview and toss it back into my purse.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Kelsey.
“No problem. Boyfriend?”
“Oh, God, no. Annoying best man of a wedding that I’m in.”
Kelsey grins and leans forward like she’s about to share a secret. “There must be something good about him if he’s putting that smile on your face.”
Before I can deny her claim the woman behind the desk interrupts us.
“Miss Knight?” the reception says. “Mr. Jeffries will see you now.”
My stomach does another somersault as the nerves return. I’d almost forgotten about them while I was out here chatting with Kelsey.
“Good luck,” she says and I stand from my chair.
“Thank you. And same to you.”
She smiles and I follow the aging receptionist through a cubicle laden office bustling with people until we reach a corner office. It’s sparsely decorated and not that huge, but it’s clear someone of importance resides here. It overlooks the city with a wall made of glass and there’s a wooden shelving unit with a bunch of different awards on it against one wall.
A well-groomed man in his mid-forties with slicked-back hair and a lilac dress shirt with matching tie sits behind the impressive desk.
“Mr. Jeffries, this is Whitney Knight. Your three-thirty.”
“Thanks, Margo.”
She gives me a small smile before closing the door behind her when she leaves.
“Please have a seat.” Mr. Jeffries gestures to one of the leather chairs across from his desk. “It’s good to meet you. Sorry about running behind.” He leans over his desk with his hand extended and I take the offering, giving him a firm handshake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
He opens a file folder in front of him and pulls out a few sheets of paper stapled together, which I recognize as my résumé. “It says here you were let go from your last job at the Sacramento Chronicle?” He turns his attention to me, but unlike a few of the other interviews I’ve gone to, I see no judgment there, only curiosity.
“They were downsizing and I didn’t make the cut. I was lower on the seniority scale than most of the other people there.” I could add that it wasn’t that that resulted in me being let go, but I don’t. Because I want this job.
“Things are pretty lean in the print industry right now. It’s tough to sell ad space when everyone’s moving to free online sources to gather their news.”
I don’t respond because he turns his attention back to my résumé. “What did you find the most challenging part of your position at the paper?”
From there we launch into a rather enjoyable conversation about my experience and why I want the job of an investigative reporter. I’m hoping my passion for uncovering the truth and helping those who can’t help themselves shines through. Overall, I’m feeling confident by the time we’re wrapping up.
Mr. Jeffries glances at his watch. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Whitney, but I have to wrap this up. I have one more interview and then my husband is dragging me to the 49ers game.”
I smile. At least if I get the job I won’t have to worry about this boss trying to seduce me. “Not a big football fan, are you?”
He grimaces. “Not at all. I don’t know why I let him drag me to these things, but he’s a sports nut, so what can I do? Relationships are all about compromise.”
I rise from my seat and reach out to shake his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. I hope I hear from you soon.”
“Someone from WHFI will be in touch. I remember what it was like when I was out looking for a job. It’s the worst not hearing anything back.”
I exhale in relief. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It really is the worst not knowing either way.”
“Excellent. We’ll talk soon then.” He nods.
“Enjoy the game,” I say with a little cheek.
He laughs and picks up his phone and I can hear him asking the receptionist to send in the next interviewee. When I pass Kelsey in the hall I wink at her and mouth, Good luck. Regardless of what happens with me, she seems like good people and I hope she gets the job.
As I enter the elevator to make my way down to street level I send a small prayer up to whoever is listening to help me get this job.
With that taken care of I mentally shift to my next task—meet with Cole. Without succumbing to his charm. That’s always so much easier said than done.
12
I arrive at the Thirsty Monk and when I walk through the door and smell the stale beer and fried food it reminds me of the night I met Cole. I still don’t recall what happened when we went back to his house. But damn, do I wish I did. It’s disconcerting to think that Cole knows something about me that I don’t. I’ve always relied on myself and I don’t relish having to rely on him to tell me what went down that night.
I glance around and there are a few patrons scattered at various tables around the place, but no Cole. I walk over to take a seat at the bar, the same seat as the night we met.
The pretty blonde bartender smiles at me and comes over. “What can I get yah?”
“I’m looking for Cole. Is he around?”
Her forehead crinkles just a little bit and she gives me a quick once-over before she manages to put the smile back on her face. “He’s in the back. Can I tell him who’s here?”
“It’s Whitney. I think he’s expecting me.” I smile back at her, but I know it’s strained because this girl is giving me the vibe that I’m invading her territory and it makes me wonder what the deal is with the two of them.
She doesn’t say anything else before she leaves.
A minute later Cole comes out from the back, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a gray t-shirt with a logo that says Hard Rock Whiskey over the top of his pecs. The cotton hugs every sharp line of the muscles in his arms and chest. He smiles wide at me and it makes his eyes kind of sparkle and it has me briefly wondering if they look like that for everyone or just when he sees me.
Which is something that I should absolutely not be wondering, because he’s off limits.
“Hey, you want to grab a table over there?” He gestures to a table near the window that doesn’t have any other patrons around it.
“Sure,” I say and slip off the bar stool.
The blonde girl returns to her post behind the bar, but she’s eyeing the two of us warily like she’s trying to figure us out.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Cole asks once we’re seated.
“Maybe just a water.”
He raises a brow. “No whiskey?”
I roll my eyes. “I think I’m safer around you if I stick to non-alcoholic beverages.”
He chuckles. “Let’s be honest. Even sober you find me irresistible.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “I think you’re mixing that up. It’s the other way around.”
Instead of delivering some quick quip back like I expected he looks me straight in the eye and says in a low, serious vo
ice, “That goes without saying.”
We hold one another’s gaze for a minute before I clear my throat and look away. The pull between us is magnetic and hard to resist. But, I remind myself, I have to. I know the type of man Cole is and he’d take my heart, fill it up, and then burst it into a million pieces while I sat there willingly and let him do it.
I’ve always prided myself on standing on my own two feet and this man would bring me to my knees.
After an awkward silence, I ask, “So what did you call me over for?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
I ignore the thrill that zips through me because I’m sure he’s just messing with me. “Can you be serious for a second?” I ask with an exasperated sigh.
“Chase and Tahlia want us to scope out a bunch of places for them to have the ceremony and report back.”
“Are you serious?” I scrunch my face up.
Cole shrugs. “He called me and that’s what he said.”
“Isn’t that really something the bride and groom should do?”
“I don’t think we’re picking it, we just need to figure out the best options so they can spend their limited time looking at those.”
“I’m still in disbelief that Tahlia wouldn’t want to do all this on her own. I need to call her.”
“You really think I’m making this shit up?” Cole asks in an annoyed voice.
“Relax. Just let me call her.” I grab my phone from my purse and pull up Tahl’s contact info then hit the little green button to call her.
“Yeah?” she answers, sounding rushed.
“Hey, Tahl. It’s me. I was just talking to Cole and he was telling me that you and Chase want us to vet some places for the ceremony.”
“Yes, sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you all day, but work has been crazy and I had to run home and pack. To the airport, please,” she says to someone else. I hear a car door slam a second later and realize she must have just gotten into a cab.
“Everything okay?”
“Just a small crisis at one of the plants out of state. I have to go work my magic.”
“All right then. I’m happy to help. I just wanted to hear it from you.” I purse my lips in concern for my friend.
“Thanks, Whit. I’ll text you a list of places to check out as soon as I’m through security and waiting at the gate, okay?”
“For sure. I’m surprised you’re not getting married in a church.”
“We were both raised on capitalism, not Catholicism.” She gives a rueful laugh. “We’ve decided to go with a non-denominational venue. I’m swamped here at work this week and I know you have a little extra time on your hands…” She pauses because I know she feels bad saying it, but it’s the truth. “From what Chase says Cole doesn’t take work too seriously, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind driving you around.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
“Just take lots of pictures. And Whit?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the best.”
Any trepidation I have about roaming the city side by side with Cole eases at the warmth of her voice. I know she’s under a lot of pressure at work and I do have the time to help her out. I want her day to be exactly what she envisions and anything to help her achieve that, I’ll do.
I hit end on the call and look across to Cole. “Well, this should be interesting.”
The sly grin that pulls up one corner of his mouth tells me that interesting is probably the least of what the next couple of days will be.
13
“What’s next on the list?” Cole asks me from the driver’s seat of his Jeep.
I scroll through my notes on my phone. “Bluxome Street Winery,” I say. “Fifty-three Bluxome Street.”
Cole punches the address into his phone and follows the directions of the annoying computer lady. I wonder if he knows that you can change the setting so that it’ll sound like a hot Australian guy?
This is our third stop today. The first two places were busts and nowhere near regal or posh enough for Tahlia and Chase. I’m starting to understand why they stuck us with handling all the runaround for them. This endeavor is seriously labor-intensive.
We find parking on the street and make our way over to a very industrial-looking building. It’s clean and modern, but I’m still surprised this was on Tahlia’s list. Tahl is more what I would call a traditionalist and I don’t see much here that I think would appeal to her.
We step inside and the place is essentially one big open-space warehouse with super-high ceilings. The rafters are wrapped in twinkle lights and at the far end of the room are shelves filled with wooden barrels, presumably of wine. Industrial lights encased with round glass hang from the ceiling, giving a trendy vibe rather than that of a run-down warehouse.
“Are you Whitney and Cole?” An attractive woman in her mid-twenties approaches us from a doorway I didn’t notice on the left. She smiles at us both and I don’t miss the way her eyes linger a little longer on Cole.
Can’t say I blame her. He’s wearing dark denim today, hiking boots, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Oh, and he’s let his beard grow in a little more than normal so he’s giving off this rough-and-tumble, woodsy outdoorsman vibe.
Not that I’ve given it much thought or anything.
“You must be Claudia?” I ask, remembering the name of the woman we’d be meeting from the notes in my phone.
“That’s me.” She shakes both our hands when she reaches us. “I spoke with Tahlia earlier this week and she said to expect the both of you. I handle all the event bookings here.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Cole says and smiles in a friendly way.
I can tell that Claudia is charmed by him and I immediately divert all our attention back to the reason we’re here.
“Would you be able to show us around and explain how the ceremony would be run here?” I ask.
She blinks a couple of times—catching herself, I think—then smiles. “Of course. Follow me.”
“Do you mind if I take pictures to send to Tahlia?” I ask.
“I’d like to take some as well if you don’t mind,” Cole says.
“Of course not.” She turns and starts walking toward the back of the warehouse and we both follow. “I have a book back here with pictures in it of some of the various events we’ve hosted here. It will give you an idea of how well we can transform the space depending on what vibe the bride and groom are going for.”
We all gather around a large photo album on one of the tables. Claudia points out some of the various options different weddings have chosen to use.
“Do you have a brochure I could take with us?” Cole asks.
“I’ll be sure to get you one before you leave.” She pats his shoulder and he smiles over at her.
I’m beginning to feel like the third wheel.
For the next half an hour Claudia tries to sell us on the space and how perfect it would be for a Webber wedding. The place is lovely, but I’m not really getting the feeling that this is what Tahlia has in mind. I haven’t had to do much talking because Cole has suddenly become Chatty Cathy, asking all kinds of questions and showing a real interest in the place.
He had next to nothing to say at all the other places and suddenly he can’t keep his trap shut. What gives? Is it the set of double D’s on Claudia that were missing from our first two stops?
“How many people can you fit in here for a ceremony?” he asks.
“Approximately a hundred and fifty seated and three hundred standing.”
He rubs at the stubble on his jaw with one hand. It’s the most mundane of actions but the throbbing in my nether regions has me shifting my weight. “I doubt this will be big enough for what they have in mind,” he says more to himself. I’m still admiring his movements when he directs his attention over to me. “Any idea how many guests they’re inviting?”
I copy Claudia’s earlier actions and blink myself out of the t
rance I’m in before I can respond. “Um… no. I forgot to ask.”
“Okay, well, we’ll report back to my brother and his fiancée and they can figure it out from there. Thanks so much for your time today, Claudia.”
She blushes when he takes her hand in his and shakes it. “The pleasure was all mine.”
I’m sure there’s an invitation there based on her sultry tone, but Cole doesn’t seem to notice, casually putting his hands into his front pockets while I say my goodbye to our eager hostess.
We’re silent as we make our way back to his Jeep. Once we’re inside and I’ve given him the address of our next stop I decide to just voice what I’m thinking in my head.
“You seemed very interested in there. I don’t think you spoke more than five sentences at the first couple of places. What gives?”
He glances over at me for a second before returning his attention back to the road. “I like how they’ve been able to come up with another stream of income to offset the costs of their primary business, that’s all.” He shrugs, dismissing my curiosity, but I know. I just know there’s more to it. “Do you want to grab something to eat after this next one? I’m starved,” he says.
“Sure.” I lean back in my seat, deciding to let the subject go for now. I’ll get to the bottom of it though. I don’t want to be an investigative reporter for nothing.
14
Cole and I step up the staircase in front of the Bentley Reserve building and a giddy excitement invades my stomach. This place feels very much like something my friend might want for her big day. The building is an old bank built in the early 1920’s and as we enter I take in the soaring hall, travertine walls, and Italian marble floors. We both stop in place and use the moment to take in the picturesque view.
“Tahlia wasn’t able to get a hold of the events coordinator here, so we’re just going to have to see if they’ll show us around,” I say.
He nods and we take a few more steps forward, the sound of our shoes echoing off the floors and the thirty-something foot ceiling above.