My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 by Harlow James (children's ebooks free online TXT) 📗

“A pitch?”

I nod. “Yes. I’d like to pitch you a design for Midnight Cowboy.”

“Waverly …”

I hold up my hand to stop him from going any further. “I know. You already hired Abigail, but after listening to her the other day drone on and on about her ideas, I couldn’t help but think her vision is fine, but not for that club.”

He lifts a brow at me while chewing slowly. “And you think yours is better?”

“Yes, I do,” I state confidently, even though my nerves are running rampant right now.

“Huh.” Hayes shoves his plate to the side and then folds his hands across his lap. “Fine. Show me what you came up with.”

“Seriously?” I ask, more shocked than I should probably alert him to.

“Well, you did go to all of this trouble, didn’t you? Or were you just doing some arts and crafts to keep your juices flowing?”

“Be ready to eat your snark, Hayes.” I stand from the table, clear my throat dramatically, and then flip my poster boards around that are positioned on two easels. “Here is what I see for the club.”

Hayes sits up taller in the chair, leaning forward to get a closer look.

“Obviously when people hear the name Midnight Cowboy, they’re going to expect something with a western theme. But, this is Vegas, right? And we don’t want the club to look like any other place. It should be an experience, a transportation into another world that creates an ambiance so magical that you forget the outside world exists when you’re inside.”

I point to a few of the pictures on the boards. “First, I feel like the ceiling should be covered in lights that mimic the stars. The colors could change with the music, but at the top of the hour or something, the roof could light up and beams of light could flash across the roof like shooting stars. The massive moon I have here,” I say, pointing to another picture, “should be the focal point of the club and should be illuminated at all times, and could even change with the phase the real moon is in each month.”

I grab a few swatches of fabric and lay them on the table in front of Hayes. “Blue is a much better color for the décor—shades of navy, teal, and sky blue woven into booth fabric, lighting, and furniture. And black marble with flecks of silver and gold in it would shine on top of the bars and tables against all the lighting. These sconces,” I point out on the second board, “look like hanging lanterns, which pull in that old western feel and should have bulbs in them to mimic real flames, or you can have real fire as well. And behind the bar should be half-circle mirrors, like the old saloons used to have, which will make the space feel bigger and help reflect all the lighting.”

Hayes stands up, moving closer to my display and studying the cohesive look offered by the collages. He then turns and picks up the samples of fabric I purchased and the black marble tile.

“I also think it would be really cool if the waitresses dressed in saloon wench costumes. You know, the ones that have corset tops and they could wear the big feathers in their hair. And the men could wear tuxedo-type suits with bow ties. It would be classy, but still keep with the theme.”

Hayes refrains from speaking, which just makes the uneasiness in my gut fester. It feels like an eternity before he finally glances up at me and then speaks. “It takes a lot of guts to do what you just did.”

“Such as?”

“Encroach on a design that has already been given to another designer.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Is that what you plan to do when you’re hired by a firm?” He glances over his shoulder at me with an arched brow.

“Uh, no…” Suddenly my confidence is waning as he continues to speak in short, authoritative sentences. But this is Hayes, and since when have I ever let him make me feel insecure? “But if a colleague of mine was so far gone down the wrong path for a project, I might just step in and offer a few suggestions to steer them back on course.”

“I see.”

“Look,” I start, sighing but then placing my hands on my hips. “You don’t have to do anything with what I just showed you and explained. I can use this as just some practice and hope one day to share my ideas with someone who hired me to do a job. But here’s what I know—one, this job could help me add to my portfolio and attract other potential employers. I’m not asking for you to hire me full time, but I honestly believe that the design Abigail pitched is wrong for this project.”

“And two?” Hayes asks while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Two?” What was my second point? I’m having a hard time remembering as my eyes land on Hayes’s forearms that are flexing as he stands there and his cocky grin grows wider with each passing second. Damn this man and his muscles that I avoided noticing until I started living with him.

I’m not supposed to find him attractive. I’ve loathed him for much of my life and now that I see him every day, it’s like my brain and body are betraying me. We’re growing comfortable with one another. Hell, traveling with him was insanely normal, like we were two peas in a pod and actually enjoyed each other’s company. Acting like his doting wife was way too easy, and actually kind of fun, especially when I cock-blocked him with Abigail.

“Did you have a second point, or was that all?” he asks, pulling me back to our conversation.

“Uh, I guess not. I just wanted you to know that you have other options.” I stand tall, proud of what I showed him, yet eager to hear what he thinks.

Hayes