Cassian

"You did what?"

I slump against the wall, a quirky grin on my face and a muffin in my hand, as I wait for the contractor to arrive. "You heard me," I reply to Jake. We're FaceTiming, and I'm trying not to feel jealous of the genuine tropical backdrop that's behind him, and the sun-kissed skin tone both he and Gemma have. Even if it's their honeymoon, they're a couple of lucky asses. I'd kill to be in Thailand instead of overlooking construction, renovations, and the overall foundation of our business. "We got the fucking partnership, man. You should have seen Penelope. She was outstanding in her field. I think she's the reason we got it."

I keep the part about me not paying attention to half the meeting behind closed lips. While Penelope was blathering on about the division of assets and other company bullshit, I was focused on Ophelia and her natural viper-esque attitude. I'll bet she's a force to be reckoned with in the business world. Other wineries in the Okanagan must cower when they see her.

"Cassian," Jake says. "Quit not giving yourself credit. Sustainability is a prominent factor all businesses must consider today. I'm sure your knowledge on the topic wooed Ophelia and her team."

"Don't forget his rugged charm!" Gemma calls. "That goddamned rugged charm."

"Hey, Gemma," I say. "How's Thailand treating you?"

Her sigh echoes through the microphone. "I never want to leave. I could live on the beach and eat mangoes and bananas for the rest of my life. Convincing Jake to stay forever will be difficult, but I think I can manage. There are ways to tempt him." I can hear the wicked grin in her voice.

I stare directly into the camera, locking eyes with Jake. "Don't listen to her. She's trying to make you ditch me. I'll haunt you if you ditch me, man."

Jake chuckles. "I wouldn't leave you to drown, Cass. We created this business together, and I don't plan on bailing any time soon."

While we chuckle, I saunter over to the large floor-to-ceiling window and gaze at the view. After spending time in the Okanagan throughout the summer, I'm preferring it compared to Saanich. I like the semi-arid climate and the freshwater beaches. The heat and sunshine are a blessing compared to the constant rain on the Island. A lot of tourists visit, but the historic, tree-lined streets and natural beauty give West Kelowna a small-town feel. The house Penelope and I are renting has also wooed me. I like the location; we're within walking distance of the winery, beach access, library, and several restaurants and stores. I was skeptical at first when Penelope suggested staying here to oversee the renovations. Now, I want to buy a more lavish place with my salary and create a permanent residence.

"Anyway," Jake says. He adjusts the ball cap he's wearing and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. "What are you doing today? Is work already beginning? You're going with the original renovation plans, right?"

I hold up the stack of papers I'm holding. "I'm meeting with the contractor, check, and check," I reply. "Depending on how the meeting with Patrick Collins goes, some tweaks may or may not need to be made. We also need to get Ophelia's stamp of approval. We want the theme to be synchronized."

Jake waves off my comments. "I'm sure we'll be fine. The designs represent us but also flow with Utterly Uncorked. We made sure of that in the first round of drafting. Excellent work by you and Penelope. That was some major undercover work the two of you did."

It was hardly undercover work, but we did have fun taking notes and acting like tourists the first few times we came to scope the place out. It's part of the reason why we chose to offer a partnership to Utterly Uncorked.

"Shit," I say, noticing a man wearing steel-toed boots and carrying a folder of important papers. "The contractor is here. I have to go. Have fun, you horny teenagers."

"Bye, Cassian!" Gemma calls from behind. Wherever she is, I have a feeling she's out of camera because she's naked. I can't imagine what the two of them are doing alone with their own cabin. When Jake proposed to Gemma, I had a helluva time dragging them back to the campfire where we were all waiting to celebrate. God knows what would have happened had I left them alone. "And we're not horny teenagers anymore. We're horny adults."

Jake rolls his eyes. He hates it when Gemma and I banter back and forth. Apparently, it's too immature for him to handle. "We'll talk later, Cassian. Good luck with the contractor today."

"See ya, man," I reply.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and straighten my posture. My suit feels scratchy and hot as I approach the man I'm assuming to be Patrick, the contractor Penelope and I hired. Just like with Utterly Uncorked, we did extensive research on Patrick and his company. His company is young, but he already has some promising clients and five-star reviews. I'm hoping Pen and I won't regret this decision. Along with the anxiety, my hand itches for a smoke. As I'm reaching for the pack in my pocket, I remember what Penelope did. My neutral expression turns sour. Goddamn Penelope. Because of her, I have nothing to calm my jittery nerves. I jerk my hand away from the pocket of my suit and stop in front of Patrick. "Patrick Collins?" I ask in a businesslike voice.

The man with curly blonde hair turns around. He's tall and well-built with a brooding aura. My first impression is neglectful. But when he smiles and takes my hand, his grip is firm and his voice is friendly. "Cassian Russell, I'm assuming?" he asks. "It's a pleasure to meet you and an honour to associate with your company. My friends and I visited Elemental Coffee when we took a road trip down to Saanich. The caramel macchiato is a favourite of mine."

"Thank you," I smile. "It's nice to meet you, too, Patrick." I suppress an eye roll. My words feel juvenile—ridiculously boring and typical. But I remind myself this isn't a business meeting where the stakes are cutthroat and high. This is a meeting about renovations that Penelope and I earned by already battling the cutthroat stakes. I take a deep breath. "When you received the e-mail from my co-worker, Penelope Montgomery, did you review the designs?"

"Yes," Patrick nods. He gestures to the table next to the window. "Want to sit down and review the sketches I've created? I've made some tweaks. Those tweaks are what we're going to review. This is your company, and we want transparency between everyone."

We head for the table, folders and other important papers in our hands. Patrick takes the seat closest to the window and I sit down across from him. From the blue folder, he removes his sketches of the renovation. I grab the original documented sketches and lay them down next to his so I can comprehend the differences.

"Business," Patrick says, "is a peculiar economic concept. As you might've guessed, I did some research on the theme of your company, and the integrity of your budget." He taps the number in the top corner. It's a number I don't want to repeat in my head, but it's what Jake and Penelope calculated over the phone. "This is a hefty budget that will benefit your renovations because it gives me the opportunity to invest in organic materials that will symbolize your sustainable practices. Your design for the kitchen, counter space, and overall theme was flawless." He points to the area of the sketch where the front display is roughly drawn. "One thing I would suggest is converting your in-counter display to a cabinet that sits on top. This way, you can remove the cabinet display. Extra counter space can then be used for more payment terminals if the influx of customers is overwhelming. It would appeal to customers using credit or debit."

While I like his idea, I'm not sure where we would place the display if we were to remove it. Without a display, we forgo the food portion of a coffee shop. Which is a downside for the bakeries we have partnered with to supply these treats. "Excellent idea," I reply, channelling my inner Penelope. She's so damn good at this stuff it's a shame she couldn't come today. She had volunteered to cancel her lunch plans with Gabriel, but I didn't want to take time with her cousin away from her. "But where would we put the display once it's removed?"

Patrick taps a section behind the counter with his pen. It's above where our coffee machines will go and next to where we're planning on storing the mugs and other dishes. "Right here," he replies. "A floating shelf will support it and be reachable for all employees, and visible for customers to see. You could also decorate it in the winter with garland and lights if you want to take on a Christmas vibe." He taps the paper again. "There's an endless pit of ideas with this moveable display cabinet. We will also make it of recycled wood. I know of several companies in the Okanagan that collect old wood and refurbish it with natural products. For example, we will make the shelves of old barn wood from degraded fences. What do you think?"

I stroke my chin in thought. So far, I'm liking Patrick's ideas. A moveable display cabinet has piqued my interest. I must discuss this idea with Penelope and Jake before it gets my stamp of approval, but I think they're going to like it, too. "Personally," I reply, "I love it. I think it's an excellent way to combat the small space we have to work with, and an influx of customers in the summer. I've heard the tourists come in large numbers throughout the summers."

"You have no idea," Patrick replies.

Again, I'm liking this guy. If we ever open any more coffee shops in British Columbia, we may need to add him to the team as our go-to contractor. "What else is there?" I ask.

"Well," Patrick continues. "An L-shaped kitchen will not work. I'm sorry for being blunt with you, but L-shaped kitchens are the devil's work. Kitchen space will be too crowded, which will create nothing but frustration and disaster. If you were to have your dish washing station in the back corner and counter space lining the walls, there would be room for an island in the middle." He glances up and shrugs. "I don't know how you're planning on operating the kitchen, but if people are baking or cooking house soups and sandwiches, an island will provide optimal space." With a yellow highlighter, he circles the cooler at the back corner. "This can stay where it's been placed. Luckily, if you choose my design, I will work around the placement of the cooler without having to have the electrical work redone."

I loosen a low whistle. "That will save us a significant amount of money."

"Agreed," he nods.

Leaning back in my chair, I run a hand over the pocket of my suit, feeling for the reassuring outline of my pack of smokes. It's not there, but before I can panic, Penelope comes to mind. Revenge will be sweet. She ruined my version of self-medicating. "What about design? I'm interested to see how you've combated our liking to contemporary with a hint of rustic."

Patrick grabs a few more pieces of paper and lays them out before me. "This," he says, tapping on a photo of flooring, "is a slate-grey birch hardwood. I think it would go perfect with a subway white tile backsplash and a white-wash brick feature wall surrounding this window." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "The countertop would be white quartz and the cabinetry would be another shade of grey. These give it the contemporary feel which enables you to decorate it with whatever rustic effects you want, such as brass or other such effects."

I pull my mouth to one side. This kid knows his shit, but I don't want him to see how pleased I am with his ideas. Showing someone you're pleased gives them the incentive to walk all over you—though Patrick doesn't seem like that man. "I will have to discuss these ideas with my co-workers, and the head of Utterly Uncorked, but I find this promising, Patrick. I'll get back to you within the next couple of days." I hold out my hand for him to shake and he takes it. His grip is confident.

"Thanks for your time, Cassian," he replies. He gestures to the papers. "You can hold on to these copies if you'd like to. I have calculated the budget on the back of this paper, and the resources and sustainable approaches my company and I will take if we get this contract."

"That would be excellent," I reply, collecting them. "We'll be in touch."

Patrick and I say our goodbyes, and as soon as he's gone, I feel self-doubt edge its way into my mind. That meeting feels like it went by too fast; like I didn't ask enough questions regarding how he's going to comply with the budget and what practices he'll use. I know he stated they're on the sheet, but I feel like I should have included this in our face-to-face conversation. Leaning back, I sigh and run a hand through my hair, tugging at my bun. Man, why do I never learn how to properly run a meeting?

"Trouble in paradise?"

I glance up, meeting Ophelia's whisky eyes. They're bright and clear, and they bring back several memories from when we were kids. I see us sitting around the campfire. In the next breath, we're chasing each other around the playground during a game of tag. And then there's the day she moved, leaving me thinking we'd never see each other again. It's strange to feel so nostalgic after not seeing someone for so many years. I thought nostalgia was only present when this person is a significant part of your life; when the memories are potent enough to make you sick. But I suppose, for my young mind, Ophelia was a major part of my life back then.

"What makes you think there's trouble in paradise?" I drawl, tipping my head back and glancing up at her. "Maybe paradise is, in fact, what it states. Paradise."

Ophelia wrinkles her nose. "You're still the same old charmer, aren't you, Cassian?"

Shock reverberates through my bones. "You... You still remember me? You know who I am?"

Ophelia glances at the messy stack of papers before she sits down across from me. She must have spoken with Patrick before she saw me sitting because there isn't a hint of confusion on her face when she sets her bag down and picks up the sketches. "I've worked with Patrick before. I think your team made an excellent decision to work with him. He's exceptional at what he does; never half-asses it."

"Just like your team made an excellent decision partnering with us," I wink. Jake would kill me for being belligerent, but I can't help it. Once the charm is on, I can't shut it off.

She eyes me coolly. "Time will tell. As for Patrick's ideas, if you and the rest of Elemental Coffee approve, then I do, too."

"I can't believe you remember me," I murmur, oblivious to the business world.

"To be honest," she says, reorganizing the papers, "I thought the same regarding you remembering me. But it's hard to forget people from your childhood." She pauses. "Did Jake and Gemma make it? Those two were always star-crossed lovers, even when we were kids."

"They got married in June," I reply. I leave out all the drama that occurred in between. It's not my story to tell. Besides, Jake and Gemma do a better job of telling it. I love it when Gemma uses her acting skills to imitate Jake. She's a natural. "They're on their honeymoon in Thailand. That's why Jake isn't here."

She raises her sculpted eyebrows. "Wow. I feel like I shouldn't be shocked, but wow."

Ophelia can't even relate to the shock I felt when Jake and Gemma told me their fake relationship had escalated. After the rumour that spread through high school about Gemma, I thought Jake was going to end up being buried six feet underground. I mean, he was, based on all the pranks Gemma pulled, but Jake's change of heart and personality got to her. And, to be honest, it makes me happy. They're good for each other, and Jake is happier than he's ever been.

"Shocking," I murmur.

She cocks her head to the side. If she can detect the lack of information, she says nothing. Instead, she changes the subject again, steering our conversation in a more business-related direction. "What made you and Jake choose the Okanagan? Specifically West Kelowna? Why start renovations at this time of year?"

These are questions I had been expecting during the meeting two days ago.

"Tourism," I reply smoothly. "And West Kelowna is the prettier side of the Central Okanagan. We also chose now because we want to be ready for the influx of tourists next summer." I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table and my chin on my fists. "Next question," I challenge.

I watch the way Ophelia's smooth throat bobs up and down. A rush of satisfaction infects my blood. While I support confident women, there's something alluring about seeing their vulnerable sides.

"No further questions," she replies. "I have all the information I need."

My phone—which I've ignored until now—goes off. I can hear it buzzing against the table. I'll bet a thousand it's Penelope asking me how the meeting went, but I continue to ignore the device. I'm too enthralled by this conversation to give a damn.

"We should go out for lunch," I say, keeping my gaze locked with hers. "Play a little game of catch-up."

I note the way Ophelia's gaze rakes down my body. "If you insist," she replies, straightening her posture. "But this is a catch-up outing. Nothing less or nothing more. Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes," I nod even though I know it's bullshit. This isn't some catch-up game. This is a game to see how we would have faired had she stuck around until dating had crossed our young minds.

"Very well," she sighs, standing up. Her heels click against the flooring as she squares up with me. I stand up, too, starting down at her. My ego is getting to my head; towering above her makes me feel drunk on power. "As I said before," she continues. "I approve of Patrick's design and renovation ideas. If there are any changes, please run them by me. I'll leave you my contact card." From her leather laptop bag, she removes a sleek business card. When I pick it up, the glossy finish reflects the dim lighting above us. I squint up at the lighting and make a mental note to discuss lighting with Patrick.

"Excellent," I reply, slipping the card in my pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ophelia."

She opens her mouth to speak, but it clamps shut as her eyes lift and flare. I glance down at my dress shirt. I forgot I unbuttoned the first two buttons to combat the summer heat. A portion of my tattoo is peeking out from behind the crisp, white fabric. She blinks twice, and her tongue drags across her plum-coloured bottom lip. I don't know what the deal is with the plum lipstick, but I like it. I like the richness of the colour and how it doesn't smudge beneath her tongue. The thought of kissing her and not having lipstick smudged between our faces piques my interest.

Her gaze moves over me in a slow sweep, catching on the tattoo and then the dimple in my chin. When her eyes meet mine, they're haughty and dark, reminding me more of dark chocolate than whisky; her typical hazel with specks of gold is nonexistent. "I'll see you around, Cassian."

I capitalize on watching her exit the room, noting the way her pencil skirt hugs her curves and how the dark purple blouse brings out the highlights in her hair. Her heels click against the hardwood. She doesn't look back. It makes the anticipation of our upcoming lunch date saturate my mind. Meeting up outside of work will be interesting.

Behind me, my phone buzzes again. When I pick up the device, I see Penelope's name and a picture of her from the wedding. "Hey," I say, bringing it to my ear. "What's up?"

"How did the meeting with Patrick go?" she asks.

"Well, well," I chuckle, leaning against the window. "Getting right to the point, aren't we? Hello, Pen. How's your day been?"

Penelope releases a muffled sigh of frustration. "Hello, Cassian. It's so good to hear your voice again. My day has been wonderful. I went out for lunch with my cousin, Gabriel, and we discussed how much of an asshole my co-worker is. He can't seem to get his head out of his ass and discuss important matters regarding the future of our business."

I snort. "Yeah, Jake's a real sleaze, isn't he? That bastard won't shut up about Thailand."

"Cassian."

Penelope's voice could cut glass.

"It was fine, Pen," I laugh. "Lighten up a little. Patrick seems like a good contractor. He gave me copies of the edits he made, and a budget outline and what resources he's planning to use. Ophelia and the team of Utterly Uncorked also agree with what we have laid out. All the contractor needs is our stamp of approval. I was thinking we could review the documents when I got home." I stuff the papers into the folder. "Which could happen a helluva lot faster if I wasn't stuck on the phone."

I can picture Penelope rolling her eyes. "While you have a point, Cassian, you're still being a smartass."

"There's no Cassian without ass," I tease. "I know you love it—both my figurative ass and my real ass."

Penelope clears her throat. "Cassian the ever-charming ass."

"That's my slogan, baby." I close the folder and slide it under my arm. I then fish for the car keys in my pocket. Now that they have repaired the transmission of my vehicle, Penelope and I are free to drive wherever we want. It would be nice to have two vehicles, but Penelope insisted sharing a vehicle would cause less money being spent while we're here. I had to agree. "I'm just leaving. I need to stop at the grocery store to grab some food, but I'll be back within the hour. Anything you need?"

She's quiet on the other line for several seconds. "Don't forget to grab oat milk."

I wrinkle my nose. "Why do you like that stuff? It tastes repulsive."

"Because it's non-dairy," she replies. "And it means I'm not supporting calves being ripped away from their mothers and sent in for slaughter."

"Right," I reply. "I always forget you avoid that stuff. What are you again? Vegan? Vegetarian?"

"A non-dairy pescatarian," she sighs. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Oat milk," I repeat. "Got it. See ya, Pen."

I hang up the phone and step out into the late afternoon air. It's hot—way too hot for a fucking suit. I wish I would have brought a change of clothes. When Ophelia and I make contact, I might ask if she's willing to go out for dinner instead. I can look good in a suit and not overheat.

Smiling to myself, I unlock the vehicle and toss my belongings into the back seat.

Day by day, the Okanagan is becoming more and more appealing.