I scooted onto the large, black padded bench across from Andre and concentrated all my energy on not appearing as nervous as I felt. It wasn't easy.

"So, you're a realtor in Atlanta." He took a swig of his beer and waved to the waitress as she walked by.

The brunette stopped, tucked a serving tray under her arm, and smoothed her thin blue tie over her white button up. "What can I get y'all?"

"I'll have another of these when you have a second, and whatever my friend would like."

They both watched me as I tried to decide if adding alcohol to this situation would be wise. My indecision must have shown because Andre pointed at his glass. "Have something. I am."

After a glance at the specials board, I ordered a Sparkling Santa, which included cranberry juice, peach schnapps, and vodka. The server left, and we were alone again.

My pulse raced, and I hoped Andre couldn't see how flustered he made me. "I didn't know you were in construction."

"Yep, I started helping my uncle in high school, actually. It was only during the summers, but I enjoyed it, and he moved me around the job sites, so I could learn different positions. By the time I graduated college, I'd done almost everything that goes into building a house."

"Wow, that's impressive. He must've been planning for you to run the place eventually."

The waitress set our glasses on the shiny lacquered wood in front of us. "I'll check on y'all soon."

We both thanked her as she moved on to her next customers. I stirred the liquid with the tiny green straw before trying it. Ice cold fruitiness coated my tongue and warmed my throat. It was delicious, and I hummed in appreciation. "This is awesome."

"Great." Andre smiled, causing flutters in my chest.

My finger twisted in my hair tugging, and I realized I'd been nervously twirling. After freeing it, I tucked the wave behind my ear and squeezed my hands together in my lap. "So, did you always want to run Taylor Residential?"

His head tilted as he considered his answer. "Not exactly. I loved it, but seeing the hours my uncle put in, I wasn't sure I could do it. He had faith in me though, and I strive to make sure we reach the high standard he set."

"Sounds like a lot of pressure."

"It was tough at first, but I've been doing it for a while now. Barry, my uncle, stepped down unofficially a few years ago, leaving me in charge but monitoring things from a distance. I think I've finally found a rhythm that works for the company and my personal life." His mouth pulled down at the corners, then he sighed and gulped his beer.

Why did he seem sad suddenly? "That's a good thing, right? I mean, everyone needs free time, even if you are a super important boss."

He huffed, and his smile returned. "That's true. I just wish I'd figured out how to balance things before I rushed into a marriage bound for divorce."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry." My heart ached for him as jealousy churned in my stomach. I shoved away the image of some faceless supermodel in a wedding dress that filled my mind. I couldn't be jealous of a woman I'd never seen over a man that wasn't mine.

"Don't be. It's been almost two years since the divorce." He shrugged. "We live and we learn, right?"

"I know I have." I sipped on my straw, creating a slurping sound in the glass filled with nothing but ice. "Whoops. That went fast."

Andre chuckled and finished his beverage, setting both our cups on the side of the table and signaling the waitress that we'd take two more. "Why don't we get this business talk out of the way and then hang out a bit? That's if you're not busy?"

"I have all evening."

Andre grinned. "Perfect!"

As his gaze held mine a few seconds longer than necessary, memories of our younger selves filled my mind. Half the school had a crush on Andre Evans. He was smart, funny, and friendly with everyone—a popular kid who never let anyone feel excluded.

Teenage Andre had been cute in that gangly way boys could be, especially if they were tall and hadn't quite grown into their long limbs, but you could tell he'd be attractive later. Adult Andre had become much more than attractive.

He adjusted the laptop so we could both see, and I let the alcohol relax me as I studied him. He'd pushed the sleeves up on his thin gray sweater revealing toned bronze forearms, the shifting muscles there drawing my attention as he clicked through a few tabs, searching for what he wanted.

Straightening in my seat, I told myself to get it together. We were there for business, not pleasure, and staring at him wasn't helping with my nervousness.

But cheese and rice! Puberty hit this man like a train.

I peeled my focus from his arms, sliding them over his muscular chest up to his face. In school, he'd kept his hair longer on top with a tight fade, but now, it was the same length as the trimmed stubble of his beard making his sharp cheekbones and angular jaw more prominent.

He'd become the kind of magazine cover hot that forced you to look twice at a stranger on the street. The type of gorgeous that shouldn't be possible without the help of Photoshop. But this was the guy I'd spent months flirting with in school. Even then, he had such confidence his attention made me feel special.

Eyes of the darkest brown flicked from the computer to me, and my heart raced. I was staring.

Why couldn't I stop?

Don't gawk at him!

The waitress zipped by, dropping off my second and his third round, and collected our empty glasses. "Holler when you're ready for more!"

Andre nodded. "Thank you."

Say something, you dork! I took a deep breath. "I like your sweater." Sure, yeah, I was ogling his shirt.

But he smiled as though what I'd said was normal. "Thanks. We go together."

Tingles covered my neck. "What?"

He waved between us. "Our clothes, we match."

I peered down at my cardigan in shades of gray over a black satin cami, and a breath of nervous laughter escaped. "We do. Cute." I sucked half my drink down and told myself to chill.

When I peeked up, Andre was checking me out. My skin heated, and he gave his head a little shake as though to clear it before facing the computer.

"This is what we'll be starting in January. The ground is clear, so we're ready to go."

The screen showed an overhead view of a large neighborhood with several amenities. "How many houses is this?"

"One hundred eighty. There's also a large pool with a waterfall and a slide, a pool house, a playground, and a tennis court."

"Nice." I scanned the numbers. "Everyone gets about a third of an acre?"

"Yep."

"That's decent so close to the city."

"It's comparable to other communities in this price range." He nodded. "They'll all have matching fences too. We want clean lines."

He tapped a tab, and a different plan came up. It was enormous, and pride colored Andre's tone as he said, "This is The Estates at Oak Ridge. It's a little farther from the city but still an easy commute. The plan is to start by June with houses going up by September."

Leaning forward, I pinched my straw between my teeth and examined the more complicated setup. "It'll take longer to get going because you want the amenities completed first?"

He nodded.

"What's this large green space?" I asked.

"Oak Ridge Golf Club, an eighteen hole course."

My mouth popped open, and he beamed. "Two separate pool areas, one geared toward families with kids, and one with an Olympic sized pool."

He pointed to them and then everything else as he listed it. "Two playgrounds, three full sized tennis courts, a basketball court, clubhouse for activities, and a two mile walking trail that loops around here."

This place was amazing. The houses would be ultra high end with an insane price tag. Laurel and I only had a few sales at this level, but I knew we could do it. A slurping sound made me jump as I realized I'd drained another cup.

Andre smirked and signaled the waitress for a refill. "What do you think?" His chin tipped toward the layout, but his eyes stayed on me.

"It's ambitious, but it'll be totally worth it. You should advertise this place as a lifestyle, not just a neighborhood. Live where you play—that kind of thing. You'll have no problem selling this type of luxury and convenience there.

He leaned back, looking pleased with my answer. "I'm not really a salesman, but I like your idea. I think you and Laurel will have no problem selling it."

My mouth fell open. "What?"

"I want Picket Fence Reality to be my exclusive sales team."

"No. Really?" I squinted at him. "I thought this was an interview, and you'd consider other realtors."

He shrugged. "I've spoken with a few."

"Andre, don't feel obligated because we—"

"Wait. Hold that thought." He clicked on the computer bringing up a new file. "The numbers Laurel sent me multiple times impressed me. She's relentless." His throaty chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. "That's not a terrible trait in a salesperson."

"She's a fantastic realtor," I agreed quietly. It was hard not to be distracted by him.

Andre pointed at the contract on the screen with our company name already filled in. "Barring a terrible impression today, I'd already decided. So finding that Liv, of Picket Fence Realty, is the Jolivette I've always had a thing for, is just icing."

An explosion of nervous excitement raced through me as Andre's eyebrows crawled to his hairline. He appeared surprised by his own words.

"You've... always had feelings for me?" I hated how timid my voice sounded. I'd done well with the business talk, so I was capable of being confident. Why didn't that transfer to my personal life?

The spunky brunette brought me a fresh Sparkling Santa. Flicking her attention between Andre and me, she seemed to notice the awkward vibe that had fallen over us and skipped off without a word.

With his elbow resting on the table, he held his palm over his mouth and exhaled. "I'm sorry, Jolivette. I shouldn't have said that."

"You didn't mean you had feelings for me." My heart sank, and embarrassment flooded my cheeks. "I misunderstood, it's okay. Don't—"

"You understood me fine, but I still shouldn't have said it. You're with someone, and I respect that. I promise this won't be an issue going forward. There's no reason we can't work together."

I don't know how long I sat there, mouth agape, staring at my bright red drink, as every possible response ran through my mind.

This, whatever this attraction was, might be nothing. It'd been a decade. We were different people. Maybe I should leave well enough alone.

Or I could tell him the truth and possibly die of embarrassment.

Or not tell him anything. Wait until after vacation, then tell him Nate and I broke up. Building a relationship on a lie would be alright if the stress didn't kill me.

But if I told him, and he thought I was crazy, I might lose him and the contract because who wants to hire someone who can't even handle her own life? That would suck, and Laurel would kill me.

Then there was the possibility of him telling someone. Did anything happen on Wayden Isle without Granny hearing? She'd be so hurt I'd lied that I'd die of shame.

"Jolivette?" He waited until I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Did I ruin this?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." The words were out before I'd realized I'd decided.

Apparently, I couldn't screw this up again, even if every scenario where I told him ended with my death.

I may have been a tad dramatic when predicting those outcomes though.

I grabbed my glass and finished it in one go. Alcohol would help.

Or maybe the three glasses I'd already had were causing a problem. It was hard to tell since Andre hadn't said anything yet.

What do you think of Andre so far?

What about Liv? Do you think she'll tell him the whole truth?

And if so, could that make the next chapter her funeral?! 😱