by T. K. Rapp
I gather my things and follow him to a spacious office down the hall.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you last week, Mr. Miller,” I start before he interrupts.
“Trey,” he insists, “no one here calls me Mr. Miller.”
I nod before continuing. “Trey.” Referring to him as Mr. Miller, having now seen the man, seems strange, but I prefer professional titles at times like this. He’s not much older than me, I’d guess maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, and what he’s been able to accomplish at such a young age is impressive. I spread everything out on his large conference table before explaining to him what I envision for their corporate event. “As you can see, we have a few options, and depending on which location you choose, we might be able to add some extra-”
“Where do I know you from?” I look up and he’s studying my face with his eyes scrunched, trying to place me.
“I’m sorry. But I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before.”
“Did you grow up around here?”
“No?” I say, caught off guard by his question. “I’ve only been here for about nine months.”
He still isn’t convinced. “I’m certain of it. I don’t forget a face.”
“I assure you, Trey.” My eyes widen when I say his name because it feels much too informal. “We have never met before. Perhaps I’ve worked an event you’ve attended or maybe I just have one of those generic faces.”
He gives me a look that says he’s not quite convinced by my explanation, but gestures for me to proceed with my presentation. I continue explaining my vision and he seems impressed with what I have laid out for his event. There are two locations that I plan to show him, along with the two he mentioned to me before, but I feel that my selections will likely be the best fit. When I have finished showing him what the plan is, he leans back in his chair and appears to be mulling it over while nodding his head.
“Well,” he states, pushing back his chair, “are you ready to take a look at these places?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t we take my car, you can give me the address.” I’m more than grateful he insists on driving, because I’m still not confident in knowing where I’m going all of the time.
“That sounds great.” I stand and walk toward the office door. “Let me get my other bag from the car and I’ll meet you out front.”
Business must be going pretty well, because I’m ushered to a silver Infinity IPL G, which is apparently new since it still has the temporary license plates. He tells me more about how his company started, a story I find interesting. The company began small two years ago with five clients; but since then, it has grown to over a hundred. He hopes that this party will introduce him to potential clients who will eventually choose to sign with his company.
When we pull into the parking lot for Ivy Glen, the old building that is situated on the back end of the lot oozes character. It’s a two-story building that was once a bank but sold to a private businessman in the eighties when the financier merged with another. The intricate design of the deep reddish-brown brick and mortar, still original from when it was built in the fifties, makes this place look more like a church than a reception facility.
I hurry to get out ahead of him to meet my contact, Lisa, while he takes a call. I’ve talked to her a few times and she has been patient and guided me as I try to navigate the world of event planning.
By her voice, I pictured a young, thin, bubbly woman with red hair. The only part of that description that was correct is the bubbly personality. Lisa is probably in her early forties, tall with striking green eyes, dark brown hair, curvy figure, and a quirky sense of style. From my conversations with her, she’s been in the Denver area for over twenty years, so I assume she moved here after finishing up school.
“Lisa,” I greet her, extending my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you finally. My client should join us in just a minute.” She glances past me and nods, acknowledging his presence.
Lisa’s warm smile turns devilish when she takes in Trey, and I internally roll my eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Emogen.” She makes eye contact with Trey. “Mr. Miller.” He doesn’t correct her, and that strikes me as odd, but she shows us in to her office. As I pass her, she whispers, “Well done.”
I peek at her and smirk before shaking my head. She gives me a quick wink as she rounds the table and opens up an album. I laugh at her insinuation. While he looks over her portfolio of past events, I sneak a glance at Trey to see what it is that Lisa seems so impressed with. Perhaps it’s his tall stature, or chiseled jaw, but neither of those are enough to elicit the reaction she had when we walked in. At least, not in my opinion. To me, his rugged appearance seems out of place for an office setting, but then again, when you own your own business, I guess you can make whatever rules seem to fit. He is attractive, but if I compare him to Ryan, there’s no contest. I shrug off her obvious attraction to him and try to turn my focus back to the album in front of us. Only when I do, Trey looks up and catches me looking at him, smirking as he returns to his conversation with Lisa.
I’m instantly embarrassed because I’m sure he thinks I was checking him out, and my bright red cheeks will only solidify that thought more. I sigh and resign my thoughts to the business at hand, the T.M. Enterprises event. “Excuse me, Lisa,” I interrupt as she describes the most recent corporate even she hosted. “How many did you say this facility holds?”
She looks through her folder and hands me a sheet of paper. “The room just across from us holds three hundred, and the smaller room holds about one hundred and fifty. If you wanted the entire place, we can accommodate approximately six hundred.”
Trey is pleased with her numbers, as well as her presentation. I had a feeling he would like Ivy Glen, which is why I wanted to bring him here first; now all the others will have to meet these standards, at a minimum. He gives me an appreciative nod and I wrap up our meeting with Lisa, letting her know that I’ll be in touch soon. Walking out of the Ivy, I feel even more confident that I will be able to provide everything that is needed for this event.
“So how’s your husband?” Trey asks as we approach his car.
Bemused, I look at him, and then down to my hand, fidgeting with my engagement ring. “I’m not married. Why do you ask?”
“Whoever he was looked ready to kick my ass the other night,” he answers, as he continues walking, leaving me standing in place, realizing where I know him from.
Fuck!
CHAPTER 9
To say the ride back to his office was uncomfortable is an understatement. Awkward? Yes. Hell on earth? Absolutely.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t find Trey attractive, because he is. Riding in a car with Mr. Miller, my client was professional. Easy. But riding with Trey Miller, the handsome stranger that wanted to save me not too long ago, I felt vulnerable. For some reason, learning that he was the guy from the other night made me feel exposed. There was a need in me to find something about him to connect the would-be-hero to my client.
I tried to keep my gaze from falling anywhere, except on him, but it was hard to ignore his presence. I was aware of his arm between us and watched as his strong hand flexed when shifting gears. He had taken his jacket off before getting into the car, so his white fitted dress shirt left very little to the imagination.
He clears his throat and speaks with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I lie. “It’s fine.”
“I told you I knew you from somewhere,” he says. When I look at him, an amused smile crosses his lips. Is he flirting with me?
“Yes.” I return his smile and nod. “You did say that. Guess I should have listened. I have to admit, I’m a little embarrassed now, knowing that was you.” I can feel my cheeks turning hot. “I don’t drink in front of my clients.”
“Well, lucky for you, I wasn’t a client that night.” His eyes remain fixed on the road ahe
ad. “Just a guy who wanted to help a girl out,” he finishes, causing my pulse to quicken.
Neither one of us says anything else for a few minutes, but then he glances at me, and speaks up again. “So if you’re not married, why did he call you his wife?”
My body tenses and my throat feels tight as I try to give a light response. “Actually, we’re engaged, and you know how territorial men can be.”
“Is he going to be okay with you coordinating this event?” he asks, with a genuine concern that I appreciate.
“Ryan? He’ll be fine, not that he’s around right now anyway,” I answer. Why did I say that?
“What do you mean he’s not around?” he asks, baffled by my response.
I huff an annoyed breath, “He just moved to California this weekend for work.”
“And you didn’t go with him?”
“Obviously I didn’t,” I retort forgetting for the moment that this is a client, allowing my anger to seep through. Not that I owe Mr. Miller an explanation, and yet I can’t seem to stop revealing too much of my personal shit.
“It’s none of my business,” he admits. “I apologize for prying.”
I nod and give Trey a tight smile, trying my best to change the mood.
A short time later, he pulls into the T.M. parking lot and I try to remain cool as I exit the car. I grab my belongings and notice that he’s waiting at the front of his parking space for me. I gather what’s left of my pride and I walk over to shake his hand. “It was nice meeting you.”
He reaches his hand to take mine and holds it gently, sending tingles throughout my body. “I agree. I hope I didn’t make things awkward.”
The only thing that’s uncomfortable are the butterflies that decide to take up residence in the pit of my stomach at this very moment. I do my best to cover any signs that he’s affecting me so I can focus on the task at hand.
“Lisa said she would email me the different table layouts they have used in the past, as well as some caterers that they have worked well with,” I say in a rush, trying to allow myself to make a somewhat graceful exit. “I’ll also contact the other facilities you mentioned to get an idea of their capacity.”
“Okay, well, we can work on that next,” he counters, his gaze boring into me.
“Trey?”
“Yeah?”
“I need my hand back,” I inform him when I feel my fingers becoming increasingly clammy.
He lets go and shrugs. “Sorry ‘bout that. Just let me know when you have that information and we’ll set up another meeting.”
You know that feeling you get when you know someone is watching you? That’s the feeling I have right now, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious thinking he’s checking out my ass. My suspicions are confirmed when I chance a look back and his eyes snap up to meet mine. He flashes a bright smile, unapologetically checking me out.
Driving back to the office, I keep reminding myself it’s not the end of the world. Then again, my fiancé only snapped at my first and only solo client, not that I’m mad at him, he didn’t know.
* * *
Since I have been away for most of the day, my desk is empty when I set my files down. I pull out my notes so that I can type everything up to add to the client information sheet when Cam comes by my desk to see how the meeting went. She knows how nervous I was to handle this one on my own. When I look at her, she can tell something’s up. “How did it go?”
“It was great. Have you been to their offices before?” I’m slightly over-exaggerating my excitement, and I hope she doesn’t question why.
“I haven’t, but I heard they’re pretty nice,”
“Yeah, very impressive.” I start unloading my bag before I sit down. “Mr. Miller wanted me to show him some other places, but we stayed at Ivy Glen so long, we didn’t get a chance,” I huff, leaning back in my chair.
“Does he want to see the other places?”
“I’m not sure,” I start; debating on sharing with her the apprehension I feel after what just took place.
“Well, he either does want to see them, or he doesn’t. Did you ask him?”
“Not exactly,” I say, avoiding her stare.
“What’s going on?” she demands. “Please tell me you didn’t blow this?”
The sting of her accusation causes my defenses to go up and my voice becomes very controlled. “No, Cam. I didn’t blow it, but thanks for believing in me.”
“What am I supposed to think? You won’t give me a straight answer, so what’s the deal?”
Resigned to sharing with her my experience with Trey, I sit back and wait for her to do the same. “Remember that night I got wasted and drunk-dialed you?” I don’t wait for her to acknowledge, because she still teases me about that night. “Trey- I mean, Mr. Miller- is the guy who Ryan got all pissy with.”
“What?”
“I didn’t even know who he was. I mean, he seemed familiar, but you know how many people we see at the weddings and corporate events we coordinate, I just figured maybe I’d seen him at one of those,” I explain to her. “It wasn’t until he asked about my husband that I knew who he was, even though he pretty much had to tell me.”
“Did he-” Cam starts, but is cut off by Elle.
“Emogen.” She summons me from her office. “Can you come in here a sec?”
Without so much as another word on the matter, I leave my desk, files in hand, for Elle’s office. When I get to her door, she waves me in while leaving a message for someone. She hangs up and folds her arms over her chest, appearing very stern. “I was just talking to Mr. Miller on the phone,” she explains.
“Elle, I can explain…” I try to beat her to the punch. “I really appreciate you letting me take this on, but I don’t think I’m ready to go it alone yet. Perhaps you could put someone else on this account?”
Her face contorts into confusion as she leans forward, placing her arms on her desk. “Why would I give the T.M. event to someone else?”
“I just think someone with more experience should handle it,” I admit half-heartedly.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen, not after the phone call I just had with Mr. Miller,” she says. “He just increased the budget by another ten grand. With the stipulation that you continue to handle everything.”
“He did what?” I ask, astounded. “Why would he do that? He hasn’t even seen the other venues; we didn’t get to talk about catering or entertainment, whether they would need a valet service-” Elle throws a hand up in the air, halting my ramblings.
“There is plenty of time for all of that. You will need to set up a time to meet with him to visit the other places, and go over all of the other stuff you just mentioned.” With another wave of her hand, she dismisses me. I stand to leave her office, baffled by everything that just happened. “Whatever you’re doing, Emogen…” I look back to see her staring at her computer screen. “Keep doing it.”
Cam sees me approaching my desk and meets me there, curiosity all over her face. “What was that all about?”
When I don’t answer, she tries again to get my attention. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, still processing what Elle just told me.
“I asked what happened.”
When I finally look at her, I shake away the confusion that has settled over me. “I’ll tell you about it when we meet at my place later.”
* * *
Joss had things to take care of at work, so she called and said she would be over later, which was fine with me. All I wanted to do was get home, change my clothes, and forget about today. The apartment is still a mess from when Ryan left. I haven’t had the motivation to clean up after myself; something about the disaster area lets me feel like I’m not alone. Although I’m sure if Ryan were here, the mess would be ten times worse. We’ve had a routine since moving out here that Friday night is our cleanup time; after our busy week, straightening up leaves us able to relax for the rest of the weekend.
; But right now, staring at the kitchen counter, the couch and whatever is left of the floor, Friday is today, because my friends are coming over, and this mess will just alarm them. I make quick time of rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher before picking all the laundry off the floor. The knock on the door tells me one, or both, of the girls are here, so I grab the last of the clothes and toss them into my room, shutting the door behind me.
“Coming,” I yell, looking around once more for any evidence of the last few sloppy days. When I open the door, Joss pushes past me, a bottle of wine in hand. “By all means, come on in,” I say, following behind her.
“Bitchy, much?”
“I’m not bitchy,” I argue, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. “It’s been a long day. But what’s up with you?”
She hasn’t been still for a second, only makes a show of tossing her stuff on the table so she has both hands to open the wine. “Remember that guy I told you about at work?”
“Would this be ‘Evil Bastard’ or ‘Sleazy Bastard’?”
She stops mid-pour and smiles, touching her heart. “Aw, you do listen to me.” I laugh, and encourage her to continue. “Evil Bastard,” she explains, “and I have been working on a huge project. We are in the middle of setting up several contracts that will allow the company license to work in the larger cities, which is great. We’ve been working day and night.” She turns to face me. “Look at these.” She points to her eyes. “I don’t do baggy eyes.”
“Shut up, Joss.” I grab my glass and head to the couch. “You look great and you know it.”
“That’s beside the point,” she brushes me off to finish her story. “So, Evil Bastard tells me, ‘hey, we’re almost done with this, let’s call it a night and pick up tomorrow.’”
“That was nice.”
She glares at me. “Not. Finished.” I throw my hands up apologetically and she continues, “Fucker shows up this morning, early, and goes to the project manager and shows him the completed project. And takes all the credit!”