The Rule Maker (Rule Breakers) Page 5

  I bristled. Game face. No freaking out allowed, not at work. And definitely not in front of him. Even if I wanted Ryder out this door in the next thirty seconds, I would not let him know that. “And to answer your other question, everyone at Bass and Goldstein embodies professionalism. Myself included.”

  “Then I don’t see a problem. We need a resort renovated, and you are a design firm.”

  You are a professional.

  That had broken the thou-shalt-not-bone-thy-client commandment.

  I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. “You’re right. Not a problem at all.” I smoothed an invisible wrinkle on my skirt, stalling for a moment to focus. “Would you like to see the designs?”

  Game plan: stay polite. Stay at arm’s length.

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  I pulled the designs out of my briefcase and slid them across the surface, making sure not to come anywhere near his hands, splayed on the other end of the table. My body heated, pulled to his massive frame as if by a magnetic force. I cleared my throat.

  Reality check, girl. He tapped you harder than a fraternity kegger and fled before he could even warm the other side of your bed. Not exactly job-losing-worthy material.

  There. That put things into perspective.

  He took one quick glance at the drafts, frowned, and pushed them back toward me.

  “I have to be honest with you. I think this is the worst business decision my brother has ever made. This is nothing against you or your firm, but I fully plan on convincing him to sell the resort as soon as he’s feeling better. In the meantime, we can discuss new designs. For his sake.”

  Oh-kay. A client who didn’t actually want my services might pose as a roadblock. A large one. “For his sake, you’d better give it proper consideration. We do charge by the hour.” If he thought I’d just roll over and take this, he was messing with the wrong person.

  Lance expected me to make this project work. Ryder didn’t know who he was dealing with. What I lacked in experience, I more than made up for with my inherited determination. I’d change his mind, and we’d find something that would make this resort fantastic.

  “Of course. But would you rather strong-arm me into liking these designs I’m not crazy about, or wait until you come up with something that’ll blow my mind?” His lips curved into a smile.

  Oh! My vision hazed over, and it took everything in me not to reach across the table and throat-punch him. Using my own game against me. Despicable.

  “I would never want you to ‘settle’ for something you don’t care for. I’ll rework the plans.”

  “If you come up with anything new, I’m free Friday night to discuss it. Over dinner, if you prefer.”

  “I-I don’t think that would be wise.”

  “Why? You took me and Jason out to lunch.” He lifted a brow. He’d baited that hook with expert precision. Of course he knew that I took my clients out to eat. “Or do you need him as a referee?”

  “Well, yes. I mean, no.”

  “For someone who claims to be professional, I’d think you’d want to treat all of your clients equally. Unless working with me makes you nervous?” His gaze moved from my waist and slowly made its way to meet mine in a challenge.

  I ignored the heat pooling in my cheeks, and other places much, much lower. We were walking a fine line. One I wasn’t comfortable toeing, not when it involved my job. Especially not when it involved him. So, for the sake of my career and personal sanity, I pushed all thoughts of Ryder to a far recess of my mind, the same place that held forgotten passwords and the whereabouts of the TV remote.

  “Of course not. You’re right. If I come up with new plans before Friday, I will set up a company dinner.” Yeah, not a chance in hell.

  We both stood at the same time, and I smoothed the wrinkles on my skirt before extending my hand. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Covington.”

  He took my hand, the pad of his calloused thumb sliding across my skin. “Same here. Good luck with the new designs.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to my fingers.

  Oh boy. Oh crap.

  They were soft and warm and something I should not be thinking about. “And for the record, I still think I’m more interesting than that duke of yours.” He smiled and grabbed the crutches propped against my desk, then made his way out of the office.

  I didn’t know how he managed this, but even with a broken leg, he swaggered out of the room like something out of a Bond film. And of course, what was I looking at? How his pants fit snug against his supremely fine ass. Really, in terms of guy butts, his was up there with Charlie Hunnam. I mean, it’d be a crime against all women not to appreciate that sculpted beauty. Not like he could see me anyway, since he was facing the other way.

  “If you stare any harder, I might burst into flames.” He turned around and shot me a smile before I could avert my eyes or even pretend I wasn’t ogling the shit out of him. “Looking forward to exploring our professional relationship.”

  Boom. Battleship sunk. S.S. Lady Bits obliterated by enemy torpedo. “G-good-bye, Mr. Covington,” I stuttered.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter Four

  Zoey

  Rule #13: Tamales can cure everything

  I sat back down at my desk, dazed. How had this happened? Not only was it a bad idea to work with him, but he explicitly said he didn’t want to see this project through. I didn’t know which was more disturbing. Give me a challenge and I rise to the occasion, but even this seemed foolish.

  A tap on the doorframe snapped me out of my thoughts.

  Lance stood at the door, beaming from ear to ear, carrying a large pink box. He opened it and said, “Doughnut?” Something very good must have happened if he was buying sweets for the staff.

  I grabbed one with bright red frosting and sprinkles, because really, who could pass on these? “Thanks.”

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “Jason’s brother is taking over the contract.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Jason Covington? Putting his brother in charge?”

  I waved my hand and quickly put it down because not only did I hate the blouse I was wearing, it now had the added accessory of perspiration. Jesus. Even yoga didn’t make me sweat this much. “I know. Completely crazy.”

  “Well, it’s nothing you can’t handle.” He looked at me as if to ask, right?

  To tell him or not to tell him… If I said something, that made it seem like I couldn’t solve my own problems. That wasn’t what Lance had come to expect of me, and it wasn’t what I would accept from myself. I’d make this work or give myself a brain aneurism trying. “He might prove to be harder to work with than I anticipated.”

  “If anyone can do it, it’s you. A few more projects of this scale under your belt, and you’ll be on your way to senior designer status in no time.”

  I smiled. It was comforting knowing that my boss had so much faith in me. I wouldn’t let him down. “Thanks, Lance.”

  “My door’s always open if you need anything.” And with that, he exited my office.

  I stared at the doughnut on my desk. A sweet, unnecessary temptation. Much like another one.

  I wouldn’t give in to this. With a sweep of my hand, the doughnut landed in the trash.

  Yep. I’d do a great job at ignoring him. The best thing for me to do now was put all my focus into my work and do yoga later as penance. Ten Sun Salutations for every time I imagined Ryder’s rough hands sliding over my skin. Could I even do that much yoga? I might not be able to walk in the morning.

  I sat down at my computer and pulled up my drafting software. To get my mind off what had just happened, I spent the next few hours redesigning each space in the resort. Ryder wanted something amazing? I’d give him just that.

  By the time two o’clock rolled around, my stomach was threatening mutiny if I didn’t stop for lunch. I texted Lainey and asked if she wanted to meet up at the taco cart on Adams. Since she’d started her
new position early this year, her building was only a couple of blocks from mine. We were able to get lunch together a few times a week, and I liked this setup, since she spent most nights at Brogan’s.

  Zoey: Lunch?

  Lainey: You read my mind. I’m needing tons of guacamole to make up for this shitastic day.

  Zoey: Dude. I feel you. Meet you at Pepe’s.

  Lainey: Last one there buys empanadas.

  Zoey: You’re on.

  Ten minutes later, I was in the heart of downtown Seattle. Lainey beat me there, already sitting on a picnic bench in front of the taco stand, wolfing down a taquito. I ordered two tamales and empanadas and went to join her. She beamed at me, her signature red lipstick glinting in the sun as she chewed. “How did the meeting go this morning?”

  Horrible?

  Disastrous?

  I want to dry hump my client and kill him at the same time? Yep. I definitely needed a little retail therapy tonight.

  “Not as planned. You remember Ryder, right?”

  She leveled me with a look. “Um, you mean Shirtless Dude? The one who has put you in a funk for the past few months, and with whom you suddenly end up stuck in a resort over the weekend, sending me frantic texts and then leave me in the dark until the next morning? Nope, don’t remember him, whatsoever.”

  “Your sarcasm is so appreciated right now,” I deadpanned.

  “Okay, sorry.” She took a large bite of chips and guac, chewed, and said, “Carbs are being ingested, hangry crisis averted. What’s up with Shirtless Dude?”

  Ryder would forever be known as Shirtless Dude to Lainey because she’d interrupted us by coming home early one weekend. If only she’d had that same great timing the night I slept with Ryder—then I wouldn’t be in this mess.

  “It turns out he’s my client now.”

  Her mouth opened, chips and guac in full view. “Shut the front door.”

  “Front door is wide open and Ryder is a knockin’.”

  “Wow. He’s really messed with your head if you’re pulling out the dad jokes for me.”

  I threw a chip at her and it landed in her cleavage.

  She grabbed it from her shirt, glanced at it, shrugged, then popped it in her mouth. “Are you going to take him on?”

  “What else can I do? My boss is banking on this huge client—” I groaned. “You should have seen the way Lance looked at me. Like a proud dad. What was I supposed to say? ‘Actually, sir, I’ve turned into a thirteen-year-old when dealing with my client’?”

  She took a bite of empanada and groaned. “Do you have a plan?”

  “To not kill him?”

  Her mouth twitched. “That’s a start. Is it going to bother you that, you know…?”

  No, it would not bother me that I’d hooked up with him. I had no intentions of making that mistake again. After our night together, I made it a point to avoid men like him—ones who probably stood in front of the mirror and grunted as they curled a pair of forties. I cleared my throat, trying to wipe the image of Ryder’s biceps bunching while lifting weights, his shirt soaked with sweat, plastered to his wide shoulders and broad chest. Nope. Not going there.

  I’d do us both a favor and work efficiently so we’d never have to see each other again.

  “Hell no.” I stabbed a chip into the bowl of guac. “All I have to do is find a design that works for him, get it done as quickly as possible, and then this whole thing will blow over.” Said that way, it didn’t sound too hard.

  If I were delusional.

  Lainey blinked hard and didn’t say anything. Her bullshit meter was even more refined than my own.

  “Okay, fine. We did it. It was a mistake. I can handle this,” I said.

  “Did it? Dude, he really has taken you back to your middle-school self.”

  “At least I have a better bank account. And better skin.”

  “Amen to that.” We clinked our plastic water cups together.

  If I wanted to keep my cushy job at my firm, I had to put this grudge behind me and move forward.

  Design. Implement. Get the hell out. That was my plan, and I was sticking to it.

  …

  Ryder

  Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

  I pressed my nose to the floor and then pushed myself back up, my arms still shaky from four sets of incline bench presses I’d performed in quick succession.

  Sixteen. Seventeen.

  Shake it off, man. You don’t do girl trouble.

  That was the issue—Zoey wasn’t just any other woman. It wasn’t a date gone wrong, or a girl swiping my gear to sell on Craigslist to the highest bidder. No, she sat across from me today expecting to roll through that meeting, bending me to her every whim. But what I lacked in decorating knowledge, I more than made up for by keeping Jason’s best interests front and center. Because no matter the situation, we always had each other’s back. That included me telling him he’d made a huge mistake buying that dumpster fire of a resort.

  Did I have to be a dick to her in the process and tell her that her designs sucked? No, but what was I supposed to say? “Your vanilla shampoo is now engrained into my sinuses, and I couldn’t even drink my protein shake this morning without thinking about you.” I’d rather free fall down a black diamond run than admit I lost half my wits when I was around her.

  So, yeah, I’d dialed it back a few notches and put on the dismissive front.

  As soon as I finished my last push-up, I collapsed on the ground. My Bluetooth beeped in my ear, and I clicked the accept-call button.

  “Hello?”

  “Ryder, man, how’s it going?”

  “Hey, Andy.” I hadn’t heard from my team manager in over two weeks. He’d been radio silent since my injury. “Just working on rehabbing my leg. Want to be ready for next season.” I propped myself onto my weight bench, carefully maneuvering my leg.

  “Great.” He let out a strained laugh. “Good, good, good.”

  Fresh sweat beaded at my hairline. Whenever Andy rambled, it always followed with bad news. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but I just got a call from WildNFree.”

  WildNFree was one of the many sponsors I had plastered all over my board and helmet. They’d given me a generous endorsement this year.

  “What about them?” He paused for long enough that I had to check to make sure the call wasn’t disconnected. “Andy?”

  “They dropped you.”

  “What?” Holy shit. I’d been out for twenty-eight days, not even a full month. “I said I’d be back before the start of next season.”

  He cleared his throat. “They said they’d reconsider once they saw you strapped back on a board.”

  I thumbed my bracelet, staring at my cast. “They don’t think I’m coming back?”

  He sighed into the phone. “Listen, Ryder, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start looking into your plan B. Just in case things don’t…you know…work out.”

  I clutched the edge of the bench, fighting for calm. Was my manager really telling me to give up? Hell, I was twenty-five, not seventy. Things would work out. They had to.

  Snowboarding had been my identity since I was ten, and I wasn’t about to give it up because of a busted leg. “Andy, that’s bullshit. I’ll be back up on the mountain, and screw those sponsors. I’ll get there myself if I have to.” I’d managed to live my dream for nine years now. I wasn’t about to piss it all away because of my tibia.

  “You know I’m in your corner, man. But it’s my job to give you options.”

  “There’s only one option. I’ll keep you updated on the rehab.” I hung up before I had a chance to really let this conversation sink in. I’d lost a sponsor. A big one. Money was never an issue, but it helped having a company actively promoting my brand. If my other sponsors caught whiff of this, who knew how many would get spooked. I scrubbed my hand over my face and went to stand, then almost face-planted on the floor when I realized I couldn’t put weight on my
left side. Damn leg.

  My earpiece beeped again, and if Andy called to add on more bad news, I’d need to do another three sets to blow off steam. I clicked on the Bluetooth and said, “What now?”

  “Is that any way to greet someone over the phone? Really, Ryder, I thought we taught you better manners.”

  My spine stiffened. I’d prefer another sponsor loss to this.

  I braced myself for the wrath of Beatrice Covington, the real balls behind the Covington empire, aka my grandmother. Baking cookies and coddling didn’t fall under her job description. Causing migraines sure as hell did.

  They say personality can be inherited. Well, Jason didn’t fall far from the ruthless and determined tree.

  “Sorry,” I said, pain flashing behind my left eye. Migraine was right on cue today.

  “I was beginning to worry you were avoiding me.” She was right. I had. Seven calls in one day might seem excessive, but that was child’s play. If I hadn’t answered, thinking she was Andy, she’d have abused that redial button until I finally broke down.

  “Never, Grandma. Just busy. What’s up?” What kind of dick ignored his grandmother? One who couldn’t last two minutes in the same room with her without having an existential life crisis, that’s who. Could I have answered earlier today? Sure, but I liked to go a few days without being reminded of my every mistake since age six.

  “Have you heard from your brother? He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

  Smart man.

  “Maybe I can help?” I was supposed to be acting on his behalf right now. Taking one for the team and refocusing my grandmother’s wrath decidedly fell under these duties.

  “You’ve been to that dumpster of a resort, haven’t you?”

  “Divinity. Yes, I was there last weekend.” Last I’d heard, that was what Jason intended to name it once it reopened. When we visited there as a kid, it was called Brushtail Resort. Back then there were stables, a gym with a basketball court, and a restaurant that made the hottest wings my ten-year-old tongue had ever tried. They held one of those contests where if you finished ten wings in five minutes, you got a T-shirt and your picture on the wall. My brother and I both won the contest, but my dad had to tap out after the third wing. I couldn’t taste anything for a week after that.