“You’re humming.”

Sasha, Rich’s assistant, says this to me as if she’s just pointed out that I was oozing puss from a hole in my head.

“Yes, I’m humming.”

“Why?”

I fight back a laugh. “I don’t know, Sasha, I’m just in a good mood.”

Of course, that’s the understatement of the century. Ever since this weekend at Luke’s, I’ve been floating on cloud nine. After an amazing night together, he’d cooked me breakfast. And then lunch. And then dinner again. In between meals, we’d fucked like rabbits, in every position and in every room. He’d finally driven me back into the city Sunday night, so that we could both get ready for the week ahead. Saying goodbye to him had been painful though, and even now, knowing he was just a half mile away, in the Loft & Barn building, was sending a pang of longing through my heart.

And other parts, I think, suppressing a smile. Because as pleasantly surprised as I was that Luke had turned out to be a good cook, there were other parts of the weekend that were far more delicious. And I have the aching thigh muscles to prove it.

Sasha dumps a stack of file folders onto my desk.

“Rich needs you to sign these,” she announces. Her voice is so monotone that I half wonder if she’s a robot.

“What are they?”

She shrugs. I flip open one of the folders and there’s a stack of spreadsheets with a million different numbers on it. It can’t be bigger than eight-point font, and I can barely make out the numbers let alone understand what they mean. I shove that folder aside and look at the next one, but it’s more of the same. I grit my teeth.

“Could you please tell Rich that I’d like to see him?”

Sasha stares at me blankly, this time as if I’d just said I’d like to see him covered in mashed potatoes.

“I’d like him to explain these files before I sign off on anything,” I add.

Sasha snaps her mouth closed. “I’ll tell him,” she says, then spins on her heel and exits my office.

I run my feet through the carpet and sigh. I had hoped things here at Bailey Living would get easier as time went by, but so far that hasn’t happened. I still spend every day feeling like I’m floundering, like Dad’s company is on the brink of some catastrophe and one wrong decision will send it careening over the edge. I’ve been trying my damnedest to help improve our image — and it’s true that we’d gotten a lot more positive media attention lately, and netted almost as many Instagram followers as Loft & Barn. But it feels like the equivalent of the band playing while the Titanic sank.

I don’t have any more time to dwell on it, though, because just then Rich appears at my door.

“Sasha said you wanted to see me?”

I’m surprised to see him here this quickly — normally I have to go to him if I want anything from him — so I smile and gesture to the guest chair across from my desk.

“Thank you, Rich, yeah. I was hoping we could go over these files she dropped off. I feel like I’m still trying to get a handle on these things.”

“Of course,” Rich says, sounding surprisingly pleasant. He slips into the chair across from me. “Where should we start?”

I eye the stack of folders and shrug, smiling slightly. “The top?”

We make our way through the stack of papers, and to my absolute amazement, Rich is helpful and cooperative the entire time. He goes over every spreadsheet with me, answering all my questions, and flags the action items for me. I sign off on expenses and order forms and a request to change our upholstery distributor and an HR consulting report that Dad apparently had commissioned some time before he died. By the time the afternoon is over, I actually feel like I accomplished something, and even Rich looks pleased.

“Thank you, Bree,” he says. “I’ll make sure all of this gets actioned out immediately.”

He heads towards the door but I stop him before he can leave.

“Rich.”

He turns.

“Thank you for your help,” I say. “I really needed it. And ... I hope we can work together like this going forward.”

He smiles, and it seems genuine. “I think that would be great.”

He disappears from my office, and I turn back to the stacks of emails that have been piling up in the two hours he’s been in my office. I wonder if this is all Rich needed all along — to feel like I needed and valued his advice. After all, Dad had relied on him for years, and as far as I know, they had a good relationship. It had to be a shock for him to suddenly be reporting to his former boss’s twenty-seven-year-old daughter. Maybe I should cut him a little slack — sure, he’d been an ass to me in the beginning, but if every day could be like this, I’m sure we can work together.

“You’re humming again,” Sasha calls out as she passes by my office door, and as soon as her heels click out of earshot, I burst out laughing.

* * *

The next night, I have another Homes For Hearts Lottery event. This is our first time out at one of the properties — a townhouse in the Gold Coast neighborhood. The bloggers and designers have all been assigned different rooms, and have been working on their design plans, and tonight Luke and I am meeting them there to go over their plans and put together the final furniture requests. I’ve been looking forward to it all week — not just because I get to see Luke again, but because it’ll be fun to see what kind of designs everyone has come up with.

I head straight over after work and find Tomas already gathered with a few of the volunteer designers. No sign of Luke yet, I note, looking around. The townhouse appears to be similar to the one Dad lives in, with the living room, dining room and kitchen on one level, and a set of stairs that presumably leads up to the sleeping area. Unlike Dad’s place, though, this place is brand new and pristine — empty of everything except fresh drywall and crown moldings and warm oak wood floors. I can’t wait to see what it looks like when the designers get through with it.

Of course, knowing my luck, it’ll look like an ode to Loft & Barn.

“Bree!” Tomas says warmly, when he sees me come in. He’s chatting with one of the bloggers and they’re looking at an iPad together. “You must come see this.”

I make my way across the still-empty living room to join them.

“Bailey Living, front and center,” he says pointing to the tablet screen. “What do you think?”

I take the tablet and look at the screen. It’s a sketch of a living room — this living room, in fact — and the focal piece is one of Bailey Living’s floral sofas. They’ve always had a bit of a grandma vibe to them, but the way the designer has envisioned the rest of the design somehow makes it work. There’s a vintage feel to the mock-up she’s created, with a gold bar cart and an elaborate parrot statue and a huge fiddle leaf fig over in the corner by the window.

I look up at them. The blogger — a young dark-haired woman, probably only in her early twenties — looks nervous.

“Do you like it?” she asks. “I tried to capture that vintage feel that Bailey Living does so well.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask. “I love it! It’s incredible. I never would have pictured these elements together, but it totally works.”

“Isn’t it spectacular?” Tomas agrees. “People are going to love it, Jenny. Make sure you hashtag it!” He points his finger at the girl, pretending to be stern, but he’s grinning and she nods.

“Any sign of Luke yet?” I ask Tomas, trying to sound casual.

He glances down at his watch. “He should be here any minute actually. He texted to say he had a minor hold-up at the office, but he’s ... speak of the devil.”

We both turn towards the door as Luke strolls in. I sigh and I think Tomas does a little bit too. The man looks good in plaid, but today he’s wearing a proper suit — charcoal, with a white shirt and a light blue tie — and the sight of him makes my knees buckle.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I say, just as Tomas says the exact same thing. That makes me laugh for real and thankfully Tomas and Luke both do too.

“We were just looking at some of the designs,” Tomas says to Luke, only sounding a tad flustered. “Here, I think you’ll like this one.” He flicks the tablet screen a few times and then hands it over to Luke. I peek over his arm at the screen and see a beautiful bedroom design, with a Loft & Barn sleigh bed and a huge chunky armoire.

“Wow, that looks great — who did this?”

Jenny, who’s been standing beside us, timidly raises her hand.

“Well, damn. It looks better than our catalog.”

Jenny blushes and smiles, and if she didn’t seem so sweet, I’d hate her a bit.

“Come on,” Tomas says, taking the tablet back. “We’ve got lots more designs to see. Some of our designers are already getting started with paint, so just watch your step.”

Tomas leads us through the rest of the three-bedroom townhouse, and in every room we meet with the designers and look at their plans. More people than I expected have worked Bailey Living pieces into their designs, and they’ve all managed to capture a cool vintage feel that, like Jenny’s living room design, really works.

By the time the tour is over, I’m practically glowing. I feel more optimistic about Dad’s company than I have since I’ve been back. I’ve been worried about the fact that all our furniture looks a bit dated, but I’ve forgotten about the appeal of vintage — which is ironic, when you think about it, because Bounce takes a ton of its inspiration from vintage clothing. For some reason I just couldn’t see it in the furniture, but looking at all these fresh designs has really opened my eyes to the company’s potential.

Even after our official sponsorship part of the evening is over, Luke and I hang out chatting with Tomas and the designers. Before we know it, it’s past ten and people start reluctantly filing out. Soon, it’s only Luke, Tomas and I left in the townhouse.

“Thank you both for your time this evening,” Tomas says graciously. “I think everyone really enjoyed it. And I’ve already been getting about a million notifications on social media — everyone is talking about how sweet you two are.”

Luke grins. “Bree’s the sweet one,” he says, then points at himself. “Did they mention the cranky old man who was with her?”

Tomas chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be silly — you two make a cute pair. I’m glad we ended up bringing both of you on this year.”

My toes curl at his words. A cute pair. I wonder if he knows how close to home those words hit?

But if he knows anything, Tomas doesn’t let on. He pats me on the arm. “I have to head out now, but I’ll be in touch. We’ll do a few more of these events, if you’re up for it, and then there’s just the final judging and wrap party.”

Luke and I both agree that we’re happy to do the rest of the parties. Tomas sees himself out, leaving Luke and I alone in the living room.

“Well, hello,” Luke says, smiling down at me as if he hasn’t just spent the entire evening with me.

“Hello yourself.” I take hold of his tie and lean in for a kiss.

Meeting Luke’s lips again sends a flame of desire through me almost immediately. As we kiss I press my body up against his, and soon his arms are snaking around my waist. He pulls me backwards until he’s leaning against the wall of the living room for support. His hands travel down to my ass and he pulls me closer to him. I can already feel his erection forming and I let out a soft moan at the thought of feeling him inside me again.

We’re so caught up in the moment that neither of us hear the front door.

The sound of a throat clearing is what startles me. I jump back about six feet and whip around to see Tomas standing there.

“Forgot my tablet,” he says, gesturing to the iPad that’s sitting on the fireplace mantle.

“Right,” I say, trying to smile. I’m closer to the fireplace so I grab it and hand it to him. Tomas is looking back and forth between Luke and I. Luke looks at the ceiling and I look at the floor.

“Make sure you lock up when you leave,” Tomas says, finally, before slipping out of the living room.

As soon as he’s gone I let out a shaky breath.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees glumly.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” I say. My voice is as shaky as my breath. “Why we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know. But I think Tomas will be discreet.”

“Do you think?”

He nods. He looks so confident that I let myself relax a little. The truth is, I don’t want to stop doing this — I just don’t want to get caught.

“Come here,” Luke says. He brushes my hair out of my face. “I know this could have been bad. I get that. It would be bad for me too. But Trent and I have worked with Tomas for a long time, and I trust him to know he needs to keep his mouth shut.”

I bite my lip. I want to believe him, but I really can’t afford this. Not as I was just starting to feel a little better about work. Not as Rich was just finally starting to trust me.

“How about this?” Luke says. “I’ll call him. First thing tomorrow. Let him know that we’re counting on his discretion.”

I nod, relief filling me. Yes. If Luke can talk to him, I don’t think Tomas will say anything.

Luke leans in again, but this time he just grazes my forehead. “How would you feel about coming out to my place again this weekend? It can be our own private little getaway.”

I lean against him. “I think ... I think I’d like that very much.”

“Good. We might as well get out of here, then.”

I don’t disagree, and Luke steps away from the wall and towards the door. That’s when I see that the back of his suit is entirely covered in the eggshell white paint from the living room wall.

“Luke...” I start, covering my mouth with my hand as I try not to laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say, giggling. “But I think we just discovered another hazard of sneaking around.”

Luke looks confused but I slip my hand through his and lead him out of the townhouse.