Page 29 of Say You'll Stay
“Given you’re our architect, Elsie,” Beckett says, ignoring Beau, “do you do residential or industrial only?”
“I’ve done both, but I prefer industrial. What makes you ask?” God, it is so nice to think about anything other than Beau and his ego and his retro resort.
“Do you do project administration? Am I out of a job?”
I laugh. “Not at all. I enjoy working with contractors—I have no desire to manage your people. If you want me to be more involved with them, I can be, but I prefer to stay in my lane.”
He nods. “Sounds good. Thought I might get a vacation, but—"
“Another one?” Beau gripes.
“The salmon are hitting in Nimmo Bay. You have to go when they are there. But no worries, Elsie. Next season will be just as good.”
Cole offers, “And we could do a weekend trip for rainbow trout instead.”
“Yeah, true,” Beckett says.
“So, the two of you are big outdoorsmen?”
They shrug together. Beckett says, “We like fishing and camping, but we’re not hunters. You?”
“I used to fish walleye on the Potomac when I was a kid.”
His face lights up. “No shit!”
I chuckle. “My aunt used to bread them in potato chips and bake them. God, I haven’t had that in forever.”
Cole grins. “That sounds delicious. And tricky to catch, if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, in late summer and early fall, they are a hell of a fight.” I cannot believe I’m talking walleye fishing from my childhood.The fuck? I never talk about my childhood with anyone. On purpose. And it just slipped out. What is that about? Beau has me flabbergasted.
He looks at me like I have two heads before he turns to Beckett. “Was there something pertinent on your mind? Maybe something job related?”
“Actually, I wanted to see if you’re coming to the clambake at Mom and Dad’s this weekend,” Becket says.
“That’s this weekend?” He pauses, thinking. “I can make it.”
He turns to me. “And Elsie, you should come, too. It’ll be a blast. There’s beer and clams and everything is super chill. You might even get to see Beau pry that stick out of his ass.”
I snort a laugh, but then I realize he means socializing outside of work with Beau. Who I hate. And want to bang. This will not be good. I cannot risk this job by screwing this up. “A clambake? Which one of you is Martha Stewart?” I tease. And stall.
Beau says, “Neither of us really are. But my mother is going to host, and my other brother’s girlfriend, Lily, is a fantastic chef. Or at least, he’s always been bragging about her for it. This is the first time she will cook for the whole family. So, I’m sure she is nervous and wouldn’t mind a little company from somebody else outside of the family.”
Beckett nods. “You’d be doing her a solid.”
I consider my options. Making friends with the family would be great for my career. The MacMillans are well known for their various projects, and they have properties around the world, so it would make sense to get in good with them. Might guarantee me more work in the future. Plus, making good with Beau’s family will probably keep me from losing this job.
But I also don’t want to get into the habit of losing my weekends to my client, either. Not that it really matters at the moment. Right now, I’ve been pissing him off for the last hour straight, and I need to make amends. Of course, if I end up sleeping with my client, that might make amends, too.
Stop it, Elsie. Keep it in your pants.
Swallowing my pride, my libido, and the butterflies in my throat, I tell them, “You know what? That sounds great. I want to learn more about Somerset Harbor, and that seems like a fun way to do it.”
Beckett smiles. “Oh, that’s great. The more, the merrier.” How is this ball of sunshine related to a ball of egotistical sexiness in a suit? Beckett is practically Savannah’s long-lost brother, but Beau...what is he, besides a giant pain in my ass?
Asexygiant pain in my ass.
“I’ve never been to a clambake before—do I bring something?”