I feel her dark, stony gaze on my back, assessing me as I bend down to pull the pizza out of the oven. It’s perfect, slightly burnt around the edges too, the way she likes it. Her eyes widen and light up ever so slightly, the faintest sparkle visible in the corner as I slide the pie in front of her.
“You remembered,” she says plainly, still pinning me with her glare. I cut the pizza into four even slices, then round the counter to join her on the barstools. My apartment isn’t big enough for a proper dining table, and it’s never bothered mebefore, until now. I’d like to be face to face with her so I can gauge what she’s thinking, try to anticipate the wicked thoughts happening behind those brown eyes.
But we eat side by side in silence for a moment, our arms grazing whenever one of us picks up a slice. “You know, you can’t bribe me into handing you the job with my favourite pizza. That’s not how this is going to work.”
Despite her jab, my mouth quirks up to one side. So, it is still her favourite.
“If I were trying to bribe you, you’d know it.” I keep my gaze straight ahead of me. “Besides, the job belongs to me, and you know it.”
Wren swivels to face me on her stool, still holding a slice of pizza over her plate.
“Oh, so this is how we’re playing it?” Her gaze is sharp, like a thousand daggers pricking my skin. “No more of the niceties, acting like we’re on good terms?” She takes a bite of her slice and shrugs. “Good. I hate pretending.”
I eye her, searching her face for some indication that she’s still in there. But there’s no sign of the warm, carefree Wren on this person’s stony face. It’s like in those shows when someone gets possessed by a demon, but they’re still in there, somewhere. Deep down.
“Whatever. Clearly this isn’t an easy decision, and we’re both on opposing sides. One of us is going to have to compromise, give a little. And I think that person should be you.” That gets her attention, and whatever sharp pricking feeling I got from her glare a moment ago now feels like swords plunging deep into my core.
Her dark chestnut eyes are blazing as she sets her platedown, concentrating every morsel of her attention on me. My neck feels damp under the weight of her gaze, and a flush spreads up my face, making me hot. I sip my beer to distract from the discomfort.
“And what makes you say that, Hudson? I’d love to know. Because from where I’m sitting, I am the only person in this room with the legitimate qualifications to lead this project. Show me your engineering degree and be my guest, take it away.”
Her comment feels like a punch to the gut. I always knew Wren looked down on me for not following her to Vancouver for university. In fact, she took every opportunity to remind me of what Iwasn’tdoing. That I should be doing more with my life, striving for greatness, dreaming big. Like what Iwasdoing wasn’t sufficient for her.
She saw me as lazy, lacking motivation, and for a while, I believed it. But now? That couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t owe her anything anymore. She got what she wanted—a successful career. And I was never going to fit into her picture to begin with.
“From whereI’mstanding, I’m the only person who gives a shit about Heartwood and what the community wants,” I say, taking a casual bite of my pizza, trying to hide whatever embarrassment might be evident on my face. “And this arts centre means more to me than it ever will to you.”
“How do you know this doesn’t mean anything to me?” She smacks her napkin down on her plate, sitting back on the barstool and folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t have anything to gain from it. I have everything to lose.”
“We all know how you hate to lose.”
“I knew it.” Wren’s mouth lifts into a self-righteous smile. “This is some kind of game to you.”
“Afraid?” I quirk an eyebrow in challenge. It’s most definitely not a game to me. I want this role at the arts centre, and I’m not about to leave getting it up to chance. I’m going to get it with cunning and strategy. It’s the only way Wren will relinquish it anyway, if I win it fair and square.
One thing about Wren is that she loves a competition. Well so do I.Let’s play, Miller.
“You’re talking about competing for the job.” She squints her eyes in skepticism, weighing her odds. I know her calculating mind. The way she sizes up an opponent like she’s doing with me right now. A thrill ripples through me, the way it always does when I go toe to toe with Wren. A thrill of excitement, and maybe a tug of attraction.
“If that’s how we need to settle this, then, sure.”
“How do I win?”
I bob my head from side to side while I chew, considering what would make this a fair fight. How we could declare the winner, and in time to stay on track with the build schedule. We have to finalize the designs in three weeks so we can move forward, and Shelley didn’t exactly give us a lot to work with.
Next week is the public forum Shelley organized. It’ll be a chance for the town to weigh in, to ask questions and, more importantly, to provide suggestions and insight into specifics for the building so it best serves the community.
And that’s it. The idea is so simple.
“We let the town decide,” I say.
“What?” Wren is incredulous. “I’m not leaving it up to the people of Heartwood to decide something like this.” Theway she sayspeople of Heartwoodgives me all the confirmation I need about how she feels about us. Like she looks down on us.
Ruby interrupts the conversation with a whine, and I gesture to let her know she can leave her bed now that she’s had a chance to settle down from the initial excitement of our guest’s arrival. But as soon as she does, she beelines for Wren, butting in between the barstools, and pawing at Wren’s leg repeatedly.
Wren ignores it until finally giving in and placing a stiff hand on Ruby’s head, rubbing it softly. I might be imagining it, but I notice a slight drop in Wren’s shoulders when she does. She’s not as defensive, and maybe now she’ll agree to my suggestion. I make a mental note to get Ruby some special treats tomorrow.
“If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears,” I say. Wren’s mouth works as she thinks, but she doesn’t offer up any other ideas. A smug satisfaction overtakes me—I’ve won the first round. “Okay, then. It’s decided. We both come up with our own design after the public forum, and then we put it to a vote. Whoever’s design wins, takes the lead on the project.”
