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“Wait,” Lydia said as Erik started to text Jack. “I’ll just let him know myself.”
Erik put his phone away and was gone before she could reconsider. Oh, well. She was going to have to smooth things over with Jack eventually. Not that Jack even knew anything was wrong. This was entirely a one-sided disagreement, and that was almost worse because Jack had no idea how disappointed she’d been. But they were coworkers. They were running the marathon together. At some point they would be standing side by side for a sweaty photo at the finish line. She couldn’t exactly ignore him for the rest of her career.
It was best to get this out of the way. Then she could spend the rest of the afternoon sweating out the awkwardness of this conversation in the gym with Luke. She walked to the end of the hall and knocked on the closed conference room door. There was no answer. For a moment, she worried she might be interrupting someone’s private meeting, but she popped the door open anyway. “Hello?”
“You came!” Jack said, hurrying around the edge of the table. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and a shock of dark hair dangled in his eyes like he’d been working furiously at something and hadn’t had time to brush it back. “I didn’t know if I would catch you in time. Remind me to thank Erik.”
Lydia just blinked at him, confused as Jack ushered her into a seat. She spun around, watching him throw his arms out in a ta-da motion.
“Well?” he said. “What do you think?”
“What do I think about what?” Her eyes narrowed in concern. Had she missed the briefing on something important? Did this have anything to do with the marathon? Maybe she’d accidentally deleted an important email.
Jack turned and frowned at the blank projector screen. “Oh, damn. I always forget to take the cover off this thing.” He walked to the projector, where he had a laptop set up, and took the cap off. A floor plan popped up on the screen.
Lydia stared at a familiar-looking image. This washerdesign. She opened her mouth, but unsure of what to say, she just pointed at the screen and blinked at Jack. He waltzed up to the screen, all suave and easygoing, wearing that charming grin of his. Lydia had seen him use that grin on rooms filled with prospective clients a dozen times. But there was no one else here. Just her and the floor plan she’d created for the Manhattan Youth Center. “What’s going on?”
“This is my pitch,” Jack said, beaming. He held a tiny black remote in his hand. He clicked it, and a new image filled the screen: a photo of Jack at his desk, studiously working. It was a selfie that had obviously been taken today since he was wearing the same clothes.
“Your pitch?” Lydia repeated.
“Yes. About why you, Lydia McKenzie, should choose me, Jack Carson, as your proposal partner.”
Lydia rubbed her hand across her forehead. “I amsoconfused right now. My proposal was rejected.”
“Right,” Jack said. “But I’m proposing a new proposal. A revise, revamp and resubmit, if you will.”
“As partners?” she clarified.
Jack nodded. “You didn’t get a fair shot. I read your proposal and it was really good. Good enough to land on Marco’s desk. We both know that.”
Lydia bit her lip, refusing to let her feelings spill over.
“I haven’t submitted my proposal yet,” Jack explained. “And I really think if we combine your eco-friendly, urban style with my modern, cost-effective design, we could come up with the winning selection from Poletti’s.”
The corner of Lydia’s mouth quirked.
“But hold on,” he said. “Here’s what I bring to the table.” He clicked the remote, a new image popping up on the screen. “Today’s coffee and snacks.” He rushed to the other side of the room and produced two coffees and a honey cruller doughnut. “Courtesy of Charmaine’s.”
“That wins you some points,” Lydia admitted. She reached for her coffee as Jack poured a to-go bag filled with sugar packets onto the table.
“A little birdy told me this is how you take your coffee.”
He returned to his presentation, and Lydia couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face.
“I also bring a winning attitude.” A photo of him in the break room with the word Winner taped to his chest.
“Nice.”
“I’m team oriented.” A photo of him and Kirsten engaged in a fake conversation.
“Great communication skills,” Lydia teased.
“AndI’m your running buddy.” The last photo was of the finish line at the end of the New York City Marathon. “So we’re kind of already in this together.”
Lydia didn’t know if she was more impressed or amused. “How long did this take you?”
Jack made a face. “I might have rescheduled a client meeting.”
