Rory: Hope City, Book 7 Read online

  “Good for you! I’m proud of you, bro. I’ll let you share your news with Mom and Dad, but don’t wait too long. It’ll be hard for me to keep it a secret.”

  “You’ve always kept my secrets,” he joked. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell them when I get home tonight.”

  Saying goodbye, he sent Blay a quick text, then shoved his phone into his pocket. Time to go find Carlotta and get acquainted with their ambulance.

  5

  Work had been exhausting, but Sandy finally had another evening when a drink at the Celtic Cock was exactly what she wanted. And the idea that she would see Rory again made it hard to not break into a jog as she neared the pub. She hoped he would be there. Hoped they would have another dance. And prayed they’d have a chance to share another kiss. Tonight, I’ll give you my phone number. Other than Bill, it had been a long time since she’d given her phone number to another man. And with Bill, they were just friends. But for Rory, she hoped for a lot more.

  The place was already filling when she got there, but she squeezed past people and found an empty stool near the end of the bar. Maeve walked over and grinned, already mixing a Lemon Drop Martini. As soon as it was set in front of her, Sandy took a large sip. Licking her lips, she smiled at the woman behind the bar. “I needed this!”

  “Rough week?”

  “Yeah, but I managed to snag a huge, new contract, so I thought I’d come to celebrate.”

  “Congratulations,” Maeve said. With more people coming in, Maeve tossed her a wave with the dish towel before flinging it over her shoulder and heading down the bar to serve more drinks.

  Taking another sip, Sandy heard laughter coming from one of the pool tables at the back. Straining to see over the heads of others, she recognized Rory. Heart pounding and stomach fluttering, she gulped the rest of her drink, placed her money on the bar, and hopped down. Once again, she moved through the crowd, trying not to appear in haste even as she darted past people, throwing them her best smile as she excused her way past them.

  Not wanting to interrupt the gathering, she stood to the side and waited until Rory finished his game and handed his pool cue to one of the other men. His eyes had still not found her, but as he stepped to the side, she moved directly to him.

  “Hey!” she said, smiling up at him.

  He looked down and smiled in return, his eyes not nearly as bright as she remembered. “Hey, Sandy.”

  “I was hoping I’d see you tonight. I thought I might entice you to another dance or maybe try out a witty pickup line.”

  He looked back toward the table where some of the other firemen had started a new pool game. He roared a cheer along with the others before bringing his gaze back to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was a good shot.”

  “Oh… yeah… sure,” she agreed but had no idea what she was agreeing to considering her attention had been on him and not the pool table. He continued to dart his eyes back to his friends, and her stomach plunged at the realization he didn’t seem to want to spend as much time with her as she’d looked forward to spending with him. Not wanting to seem clingy, she said, “Well, I’ll leave you to the game. I’ll be over at the bar later if you want to chat.” Even as the words left her mouth, she prayed he’d finish with his friends and seek her out, but the flip-flops that began in her stomach wouldn’t stop.

  He glanced back down and nodded but said nothing before turning his attention back to his friends. Filled with awkward uncertainty, she stepped away, soon slipping between patrons as she made her way to the bar. Her former seat was still empty, and she climbed up onto the stool, unable to keep the desire that Rory would join her from filling her mind.

  Maeve walked over and grinned. “Hey! You’re back! You want another drink?”

  She nodded, her wide, practiced smile firmly on her face. “Absolutely.” She tried to ignore the cheers she heard from the pool table area, but the noise simply made it harder to stop thinking about him.

  “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

  The question came with an accompanying hand on her arm. So focused on her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed the man sitting next to her, eyeing her lecherously. Jerking her arm back, she said, “No, thank you.”

  He leaned closer, his gaze locked in on her chest. “Come on, babe. A gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be sitting alone.”

  “I’m waiting on someone,” she said. “But you should know that if a woman wants to sit alone, that’s her prerogative.”

  The man’s brow lowered. “I don’t even know what the hell that word means.” He grinned again, his gaze barely flicking up to her face before dropping back to her chest. “But I’m willing to let you teach me whatever you want.”

  Twisting to the man, ready to deliver a scathing rebuke, her vision was suddenly blocked by a body inserting between her barstool and the other man’s. Blinking, she looked up in surprise at the sight of Rory. She could only see his face in profile as he glared toward the man, but his jaw was set, and no smile graced his lips.

  “Back off, asshole. The lady said she wants to sit alone.”

  The other man reared back as his sloppy-drunk face settled into a pout. “She’s just a cocktease bitch anyway,” he grumbled.

  Rory still had not looked at her, instead offering a chin lift toward Torin to order another beer. Breathing easier, she placed her hand near his arm and smiled. “Thank you! I knew you were gallant,” she said, attempting a lighthearted tone.

  “Maybe a bar isn’t the best place to be if you don’t want that kind of attention.”

  She blinked, startled at his harsh tone, and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “Rory, just because a woman is in a bar doesn’t mean she wants to be hit on like that.” Cocking her head to the side, she peered up at him, trying to discern what he was thinking. “What’s wrong?”

  He finally turned and dropped his gaze to her face. She could swear his expression was one of discomfiture, but that only made her more curious as to what he was thinking.

  He shook his head, then said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s face it, Sandy… you’re a beautiful woman with a bright smile and a quick wit that works for flirting. You’ve got to realize that for some men, that’s a come on.”

  Her hand jerked back as though burned, humiliation running through her. “I’m sorry you think that…” She wasn’t sure what else to say, but by then Torin had handed Rory his beer, and he picked it up, tossing some bills onto the bar. He turned as though to leave, and she battled the desperation to want to ask him to stay. “Rory!”

  He stopped and hesitated before dropping his gaze back to her. She stared for a few seconds, the blue of his eyes still mesmerizing before he looked away. “I don’t understand, Rory. Last week, we talked, danced, and I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten the kiss—”

  “Yeah, about that. I think it’s probably best that we forget it happened.”

  Her heart pounded and her stomach churned once more as his gaze had not returned to her face. “What’s changed?”

  He sighed long and heavy, then stepped closer, finally looking at her. “Look, Sandy, I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now that I need to focus on. A woman with a lot of expectations doesn’t fit into that.”

  She reared back, the churning in her stomach now feeling as though she’d been punched. “A woman with a lot of expectations? I don’t understand. Where is that coming from?”

  His gaze shot to the side, then came back to her, landing on her wrist where her diamond bracelet twinkled. With that one look, he’d given away more than he probably meant to. She looked past his shoulder to the men standing in a group near the pool tables. Understanding flooded her, and she lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “Oh, I see. You’ve met me a couple of times and have now formed an opinion about who I am as a person without getting to know me more. Or you took in other people’s opinions and made them your own.”

  “No, it’s just that… well… like I sai
d, I’ve got a lot going on. Anything more than a little fun is just not in the cards for me right now.”

  She watched a blush move over his face. Stiffening her spine, she sat up straight, refusing to look away. “A lady always makes eye contact when she has a point to make.”

  “Well, I thank you, Rory, for showing me your true colors rather than letting me become more involved with someone I thought was worth it.” She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, hating the fact that she wanted to cry. Sliding unassisted from her stool, she darted through the crowd, using her diminutive size to slip past people. She made it to the door, barely aware of her name being called.

  Once outside, she walk-ran to her SUV on her stiletto heels, glad to arrive without breaking her ankle. She quickly drove down the road, forcing her eyes to stare straight ahead, refusing to look into the rearview mirror. Blinking back tears, she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Swallowing deeply, she tried to steady her breathing. Driving in complete silence, she forced her mind to go blank, a trick she’d taught herself many years before when her heart ached.

  Once inside the front door of her house, she slumped her back against the wood, now letting the waves of emotions crash over her. Embarrassment. Mortification. Anger. Frustration.

  Her attention was diverted as her cat walked into the room, and she stooped to run her fingers through his thick fur. She walked on wooden legs into her kitchen, then poured food into his dish. She stood for a moment, her house silent except for the sound of her cat crunching his food. With no appetite, she flipped off the light and headed upstairs. Stripping as she walked into her bedroom, she stopped at her dresser and unfastened the clasp on her diamond bracelet, her fingers shaking as she gently placed it into her small jewelry box. “A lady should always treat their jewelry carefully, showing respect to the one who gave it to them.”

  A ragged breath slipped between her lips as she moved into the bathroom and stepped into the shower while the water warmed. Steam billowed over the shower curtain, but she ignored the little pinprick stings as the water pelted her skin. Dragging her nails through her scalp, she washed her hair.

  Exhausted from the tumultuous emotions, she stepped out onto the plush bath rug to dry off. Wrapped in a towel, she glanced into the bathroom mirror as she pulled a wide-toothed comb through her hair. Her hand stopped its motion, comb still in the air, and she stared. No makeup. Pale complexion. Large blue eyes.

  Her gaze stayed pinned on her reflection, and her chest began to move rapidly as her breath heaved. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered toward the mirror. Her chin quivered, and she swallowed deeply again, trying to keep the tears at bay. “A lady never allows herself to wallow in self-pity.”

  Anger flared and she dashed the moisture from her eyes. “Stop it,” she ordered her reflection. “He was never anything special. Rory is just a guy. Just like any other guy.”

  Turning quickly, she moved into the bedroom where she dropped the towel and pulled on flannel pajamas before climbing into bed. Lying awake, she continued to tell herself that Rory McBride was no one special. Finally, hours later, she fell asleep to more words from her grandmother: “A lady might lie to others but should never lie to herself.”

  6

  Four Months Later

  “Okay, team, it’s go-time.” Sandy glanced at two of her employees, Todd, another interior designer, and Barbara, an assistant and interior decorator.

  The three stood on the sidewalk and lifted their gazes upward. Partridge Tower was one of the new jewels being completed in Hope City. Located downtown near the harbor, the owners had managed to buy two city blocks, one with a small warehouse and another with old row houses, and have them demolished. How they managed to get past City Hall’s historical preservation ordinances she had no idea. But that was not her concern. As soon as the building began, she’d angled to get the account for interior design.

  A sixteen-story high-rise, the Partridge Tower had offices on the first eight floors and condos on the next eight. She knew the one and two-bedroom condos were already being sold at prices that were close to a million each. The upper luxury penthouses would easily be sold for almost two million. While interesting, those were not part of her portfolio. Her specialty was office design, and snagging the contract for the eight floors of offices was a dream come true.

  The building exterior was complete as was much of each individual floor. The tile was laid, the outer walls and windows finished, plumbing and electricity installed. The designer for the condos was working to have them built to order for clients who had already bought and others built as models for future owners. Sandy was having to do the same with the floors for offices.

  Looking at Todd and Barbara, she grinned. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely,” Todd said. “I’d do a happy dance right here on the sidewalk if I didn’t think I might get arrested.”

  Laughing, they pushed through the thick glass doors and entered the opulent lobby. The first floor was only partially finished at this time. When she’d interviewed for the office design account, she’d met with the elder Mr. Albert Partridge and his son, Anthony, at their headquarters. Now, the building was only open for those who needed to gain entrance, and the massive lobby was empty except for a receptionist.

  Sandy’s heels clicked and echoed across the marble tile as they approached the polished wood and brass reception desk. An attractive brunette with a pin attached to her lapel declaring her name to be Heather smiled as she greeted the three.

  “Good morning. Welcome to Partridge Tower. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning. I’m Ms. Carmichael from Carmichael Designs, and these are my associates, Mr. Patterson and Ms. Scales. We have an appointment with Anthony Partridge.”

  “Yes, Ms. Carmichael. He’s expecting you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to his working conference room, and he’ll be along in just a few minutes. He was called up to one of the floors but directed me to make sure you have everything you need.”

  They followed Heather into a large, well-appointed room, obviously a transitional office space. After accepting bottles of sparkling water from Heather, they pulled out drawings and sketches, placing them on the large table in the middle of the room. Barbara worked quickly, while Todd preferred to make sure each sketch was presented in the order he wanted. Sandy smiled, admiring the way the two of them had quickly acclimated to each other.

  Just as they finished, Anthony Partridge walked into the room. Tall and fit, his light brown hair was neatly trimmed, swept to the side. Knowing the type of men’s salon he probably patronized, he would have paid more for his one haircut than most men do in an entire year—or several years. His nails were buffed, as shiny as his shoes. And his navy suit was expensive. She recognized the cut and style, and once again knew no expense was spared in his appearance.

  Anthony walked directly to her, his arms extended as he bent as though to kiss her cheek. Not her preferred method for being greeted on a professional level, but Anthony’s parents had socialized with her father at one time, obviously giving him the idea that a friendly greeting was acceptable. Stepping back, she smiled politely and stuck her hand out, catching him in the stomach as he bent forward. Jumping slightly, he clasped her hand in both of his, holding it longer than was considered polite. Pulling it back, she swung her hand out to introduce Todd and Barbara. He turned and greeted the others with enthusiasm, never seeming to realize his faux pas.

  After introductions and greetings were over, he moved to the table to look at their sketches. She had given Todd more responsibility and allowed him to make the presentation of their designs as she narrated.

  “Let’s start with the first floor since you have three companies with signed contracts. Working with the parameters you have designated for the entire building, we have created functional yet modern lines and spaces. We will, of course, contact each of the three businesses to determine their needs and specific requirements such as the number of offices, workrooms, an
d conference rooms. Todd and I will be in charge, plus I have another designer that will assist with this project as well as the other projects we have. Barbara will be in charge of the decorating, coordinating directly with the occupants of the offices.

  “For the second through eighth floors, you only have those partially pre-rented or finished, and again, we have preliminary drawings for those. We will follow the same regimen for each of them as we do on the first floor.”

  Anthony walked around the room, his hands clasped behind his back, carefully perusing the drawings. After he made the full sweep, he turned and brought his hands to the front, rubbing them together in a sign of enthusiasm. He smiled and nodded, saying, “Perfect. You have captured what our concept of Partridge Tower is all about. This modern yet elite office and condo building will be greatly sought after.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, maintaining her calm exterior when she wanted to do cartwheels. After several years of small accounts, working to slowly build her staff so that she could go after the larger accounts, Carmichael Designs was now on the precipice of success.

  “Would you like to see the upper floors while your associates pack up the drawings?” Anthony asked, stepping closer.

  “We would love to,” she replied, her smile firmly in place. “They need to see the floors as well to gain a sense of the space and views.” Turning to Todd and Barbara, she instructed, “We’ll come back to gather our materials.”

  Todd coughed into his hand as Barbara sucked in her lips to contain her smile. Making bug eyes at them, she turned back to Anthony. “Lead the way.”

  They rode the elevator to each of the floors, wearing hard hats provided by Heather. Carefully stepping over materials and debris, it was not hard to imagine the space when finished even though the electricians, plumbers, and carpenters were still busy. Dust coated the floors and exposed wires ran along the beams, popping out in tangled, multi-colored bunches. As one of the workers walked by, she noticed the name embroidered on his work shirt. Perkins Electrical Company. Perkins? Something about that name snagged in her mind, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen it or why it had any significance. Before she had a chance to ask, Anthony ushered them to the elevator once again.