Mia Adrian stared at her phone screen, wondering what in the hell she’d just read.
Noah: Would you rather—text message edition. Daily messages with strange animal facts OR positive affirmations?
What kind of question was that? She frowned and leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair before tapping out a one-handed response.
Mia: ???
Noah: It’s a question. Would you rather receive daily animal facts or positive affirmations?
Mia: Um.
Mia: Neither?
Noah: Both it is.
Mia: Don’t you dare.
A banner appeared at the top of her screen, alerting her to a message from an unknown number.
When I breathe, I inhale confidence and exhale timidity.
She groaned and waited, hoping for some additional message that would give her instructions to opt out of whatever service he’d just signed her up for. Her gaze darted to her computer screen for a second, then back to the phone.
Nothing.
Would she seriously get something like this every day? How the hell was she supposed to stop them?
The text alert dinged again. Another unfamiliar number.
Elephants are the only animal that can’t jump.
She pressed a fist to her forehead.
Mia: I’m going to kill you.
Noah: Should have done it before you taped a banana under my desk. I’ve been wondering what the smell was for days.
She couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up, and glanced around to make sure no clients were around. Noah might be her best friend, but they teased each other at the office like elementary school rivals. She liked her job, but it was still work—and their games usually helped her get through until five o’clock.
This, though? This was her personal cell phone.
He’d taken it one step too far.
Mark my words, Noah Agnew. I’ll get you back for this.
Yet another chirp sounded, but this wasn’t a text message. It was the alert reminding her she needed to leave in fifteen minutes for her weekly infusion appointment.
She smiled at the thought that followed. Thursday meant a trip to the infusion center, but more importantly, it also meant chicken wings for dinner.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. What would it be today? Louisiana Rub? Lemon Pepper? Maybe she’d go wild and try the Mango Habanero.
They all sounded good—but which sounded best?
When it came to food—chicken wings in particular—Mia didn’t mess around.
“You’re thinking about chicken wings, aren’t you?”
Mia’s eyes popped open and she lurched to a sitting position. Noah stood on the other side of her desk, arms folded across his broad chest.
He had on the baby blue dress shirt. Blue always had been her favorite color on him—she’d told him so no less than fifty times. And yet he only wore the hue once a month, maybe not even that often.
She didn’t mention the ridiculous text messages. Best to let him think they didn’t bother her that much and get him back when he least expected it.
She flicked invisible lint from her black skirt. “It’s Thursday, is it not?”
“It is. But even if it wasn’t, I’d still know. Nothing else puts that look on your face.”
“What look is that, exactly?”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “Pure, unadulterated longing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Only every Thursday for the last nine years.” She leaned forward and dropped her elbows to the desk. “It’s your fault, you know. You’re the one who introduced me to them.”
Noah reached out and moved her nameplate several inches to the left. It drove her crazy.
No matter, she’d rearrange the items on his desk tomorrow morning before he came in.
“I didn’t know I was creating a monster.”
Mia laughed. “Too late for hindsight. Want me to bring some over tonight?”
“Sure.”
She didn’t have to ask what flavor he wanted. Noah was as consistent as her doctor’s appointments. When he found something he liked, he stuck with it. Long ago she’d noticed he usually ordered something he’d had before when they went out to eat, and once asked him why he never branched out.
“What if I try something new, and it’s not as good?” he’d said.
“What if it’s better?” she’d returned.
But he wouldn’t be swayed. Wasn’t worth the risk, he maintained, and she’d let it go.
She made a mental note to add a ten piece of plain wings to her order tonight, and swiveled aimlessly in her chair. “How’s your day been?”
“Boring. Full of client meetings, but you know that.”
“If not, I’d be the world’s worst administrative assistant. Speaking of meetings, you’ve got one more in—” she checked her watch “—ten minutes.”
“I do?”
“Darcy Lane, here to discuss her new fitness center.”
“Right.” He put his palm flat on the desk and leaned in a little. His eyes brightened with excitement. “So I had lunch with my dad today.”
She smiled, ignoring the pang of jealousy at his casual mention of spending time with his dad. There was a time she and her parents got together for regular meals, too. Now, she couldn’t even remember the last time. “Yeah?”
“He’s going to announce his plans to retire. This week, probably.”
“Really?”
They’d been expecting it. Mr. Agnew had been dropping hints about retiring for the last three years. Mia didn’t blame him—he was in his sixties and had built an impressive architecture firm of fifty employees that had become known around Denver for modern, sustainable designs. He’d earned a break.
“Yep. Said the principals would look to promote one of the associates after he left.”
When Mia had started this job many years ago, it had taken her a while to learn the titles and hierarchy structure of architects at the firm. CEO, principal, associate, architect, intern…but eventually she’d gotten it straight.
Mia rubbed her hands together. “Which means a junior principal position will open up, and it will have your name on it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t want them to pick me just because I’m the founder’s son.”
She snorted. “Son or not, you’re the best candidate. No contest.”
“Thanks,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “I’d love the opportunity. And I know it would make my dad proud.”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving an errant lock sticking straight up in the back.
“Noah,” Mia scolded. She stood and beckoned him to lean over. He obeyed and she smoothed his hair down, a ritual they performed at least twice a week. “Better.”
“Thanks.” He turned toward his office. “You’d better get out of here.”
“I will as soon as your three o’clock arrives.”
He started down the hall to his office just as Julia and David, both architects like Noah, came from the opposite direction.
Julia paused and flashed him a smile. “Hey, Noah.”
He offered a polite greeting but kept moving, and Mia scowled at his back. No matter how many times she brought it up, he always brushed off the suggestion Julia was interested in him.
Julia, looking poised and elegant in a gray dress and heels, veered off into the break room while David turned to where Mia sat. “I can’t find the Trodeau file.”
She blinked, disarmed by his clipped tone. She shouldn’t have been, though, because he always spoke to her like that. “Um, I thought I filed it last week. Did you check the black file cabinet?”
He looked at her like she’d just asked if he knew right from left. “Of course.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I might have misplaced it,” Mia said, unease filling her stomach. Every time she messed up—which wasn’t often—it always seemed to involve David. The man thought she was a complete idiot. “I’ll find it.”
David just stood there and arched a sardonic brow.
Mia glanced to the side, then forced herself to regain eye contact. “I can’t do it right this minute, I’m about to leave—”
“Right,” David said disapprovingly. “It’s Thursday. Make sure it’s on my desk first thing tomorrow. It’s important.”
“Yes, I can do that. I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”
He didn’t reply and went back the way he’d come.
A subtle chime sounded, alerting Mia to a newcomer in the office. A young woman with long brown hair stepped into the foyer, and Mia stood.
“Good afternoon.” She smiled, trying her best to shake off the interaction with David.
The woman came forward. “Oh, hello. I’m Darcy Lane—I have an appointment?” It came out like a question.
“Yes, at three o’clock with Noah.” She should probably refer to Noah as Mr. Agnew to clients, but that had always been what she called Noah’s father. “I’ll just let him know you’re here. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee?” Serving and chatting with clients while they waited was one of Mia’s favorite parts of her job.
“I’m okay, thank you.” The woman sat in the chair farthest from Mia and pulled out her cell phone.
Guess she wouldn’t be one of the chatty ones, but that was probably best since Mia had to leave, anyway. She picked up her desk phone and hit number one on her speed dial.
“Client’s here?” Noah asked by way of greeting.
“Yep. Should I set her up in the conference room?”
“Not yet. I need a couple of minutes to get her stuff together. I’ll come get her when I’m ready, you need to head out.”
“Relax. I won’t be late.”
“You will be if you don’t leave now.”
“Okay, okay. See you tonight.” She hung up and locked her computer screen. Just as she was about to turn to the woman, she heard Noah’s voice and looked up to see his head poke around the corner.
“Darcy? I’m Noah. I’m just finishing something up, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
The woman seemed stunned for a second as she looked at Noah, blinking several times. “Um, sure. Yes, that’s fine. I know I’m a little early.”
Mia smiled to herself. The woman had no idea how much Noah appreciated that. Tardiness drove him crazy.
“I look forward to our meeting.” Noah’s expression was polite and businesslike, and he ducked back into his office.
Mia forwarded her phone to the office manager and gathered her purse. She went around the desk and stopped in front of Darcy. “I have to head out for an appointment, are you sure there’s nothing you need before I go?”
Darcy’s cheeks were flushed. “No, thank you.”
This wasn’t the first time a woman had become flustered around Noah. The firm did mostly commercial design, and the majority of their clients were men. But occasionally women came through, and they’d had several female interns. It was quite clear the effect Noah had on women, even if the man himself was oblivious.
Despite their long-standing friendship, Mia could still admit her best friend was hot.
Really hot.
At thirty-one, he looked his age, which she would argue was when men hit their prime. He was old enough to appear masculine and worldly, his jaw defined and always covered in a light layer of facial hair, but youthfulness still rounded his features in the best way. Like he hadn’t become hardened by what life had thrown at him.
He was healthy and fit, as much as one could tell in his dress shirt and slacks. Based on his frequent trips to the mountains for rock climbing expeditions, Mia knew it was even better underneath.
But the thing that caught people off guard was his hair. Noah was a redhead, his thick hair like a muted sunrise. Not the vivid orange associated with a brilliant sky that prompted #unfiltered hashtags on social media posts, but rather the soft glow brushing the horizon just before the sun appeared. In certain light some might call it strawberry blonde, but Mia never liked that term. Noah pulled off the redhead look beautifully.
She supposed it could have also been his eyes—an ice blue that drew people in like water in a parched desert. Those eyes were the reason Mia told him to wear blue more often.
He was hit on every time he wore blue, without fail.
As she started her car and drove to the infusion center, she wondered idly if Darcy Lane would uphold that convention. Even if she did, Mia knew what Noah would say.
Dating was a topic they rarely discussed. Having been close friends for more than two decades, there weren’t many subjects that were off-limits. She knew almost everything about him, and he, her. But whenever she asked about his love life, he shut down, or turned things back on her, which she couldn’t argue against.
She didn’t date much, either.
They were different, though. Noah had nothing to hold him back.
Mia? She had a damn good reason to stay single, and she intended to keep it that way.
“If it isn’t my favorite patient.” Natasha approached Mia’s recliner with a smile.
Mia rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You only say that because I bring you food.”
The middle-aged nurse shrugged, unapologetic. “Wasn’t that your plan? To butter me up so I’d make sure you were always with me?”
“I heard you were the best at starting IVs.”
“I’ve never stuck you more than once, have I?”
“I keep bringing you food, don’t I?”
“I guess we’ve got the perfect arrangement, then,” Natasha said, her eyes searching around Mia’s chair. “So, what is it today? Pumpkin bread? Muffins?”
Mia reached into her purse and located the small paper-wrapped package. “Scottish shortbread.”
Natasha put the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically. “Mercy, I love shortbread.”
“You love anything with sugar.”
“Truth.” Natasha tucked the proffered package into her scrubs pocket. She took Mia’s hand and tugged gently to straighten her arm, palm up. She tapped two fingers along the crease of Mia’s inner elbow. “Veins still look great, even after all this time.”
“Someone told me to chug water the day of each infusion. Works like a charm.”
“Not everyone listens to me, but I’m glad you do.”
Mia smiled and watched as Natasha wrapped a tourniquet around her bicep and swabbed the blue vessels with an alcohol pad. She had to look away when Natasha pierced her skin, though. No matter how many times she did this, she still couldn’t stomach the moment the needle went in.
Once the IV was in and the clear fluid was running, Natasha peeled the gloves off and disposed of them. “I’ll go get your drug.”
While she waited, Mia unlocked her phone and pulled up her personal email. One caught her eye, and her stomach flipped. She opened the message and her eyes flew over the words:
Ms. Adrian,
Congratulations! From an incredibly talented pool of applicants, I’m delighted to inform you that you’ve been chosen for the Ignacio Return to Learning Scholarship. We look forward to welcoming you back to campus…
Her heart leapt with excitement, but it was as short-lived as the rush of the downhill slope on a roller coaster. Her brain quickly admonished the surge of joy with a harsh reprimand.
What were you thinking?
She’d applied for the scholarship late one night when she was feeling sorry for herself. She’d had a couple glasses of wine and started researching what it might take to go back to school to finish the dietetics degree she’d started more than a decade ago, despite knowing it would be a challenge while working full-time. She already had medical bills to deal with and was averse to taking out significant school loans, something that had held her back on multiple occasions.
Hence, the scholarship. She’d found one specifically for adults going back to school and on a whim, decided to go for it.
When she’d filled out the application in her mildly buzzed state, she poured out her heart, explaining what happened during her third year at CU and why she’d had to put school on hold. She talked about her lifetime goal of becoming a pediatric dietician after being such a picky eater as a child that she was in the fifth percentile for weight, and only improved after beginning therapy with a dietician who worked exclusively with kids. Her desire to do the same for others hadn’t faded since leaving halfway through the program. She disclosed her financial hardships, and that she’d do almost anything for the opportunity to finish her degree and pursue a career she was passionate about.
It had been therapeutic. An exercise in putting herself back out there and considering the possibilities for her future.
She didn’t think she’d actually get picked.
The scholarship required she enroll in at least twelve credit hours per semester, and there was no way she could do that plus work full-time at Agnew Design Group.
And there was no way she could quit, because she needed their generous medical insurance policy.
She laid her phone in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek, pondering any possible way she could accept the scholarship. She came up empty-handed, and an hour later, when her infusion was finished and she walked out of the treatment center, her disappointment ran deep. She headed to Wings To Go, glad she was meeting Noah tonight.
If she could pick one person to sit with while wallowing over how much this sucked, it was him.
