Page 67 of The Lipstick Flip

I raised my eyebrows at Noah.

He held up a hand and shook his head. But then he said, “Come here. I want you to meet someone.”

In the kitchen, a middle-aged man was typing out something on his phone. He had silver hair dramatically swept back and silver stubble, but he looked fit and toned. I didn’t know much about clothes, but I knew the quarter-zip with the leather placket, the dark jeans, and the shoes probably cost more than I guessed.

“Howie, this is Otto Pang.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar. I held out a hand, and Otto returned my shake with a solid grip. He smiled at me, but his gaze moved to Noah as he said, “This is the one, huh?”

Before I could ask what that meant, Noah said, “Otto is—what’s the title, Otto? CEO? Owner?” But then Noah said to me, “You’ve heard of Pang and Associates?”

“Oh,” I said. Because yeah, I’d definitely heard of Pang and Associates. They were an architectural firm. Not the biggest in the area, but with a lot of clout—they billed themselves as a boutique firm, which meant they worked with really rich people who wanted really specific things done. Noah was still looking at me, so I managed to say, “Yeah. Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“I love what you’ve done with this house,” Otto said. “I remember when it came on the market a few years ago, thinking it would be a good property to pick up.” He glanced around. “It’s got great bones, and you’ve really outdone yourself on the rehab.”

“Took me long enough,” I said with a smile. “But we didn’t really get started until a few months ago. My partner, Si, she did a lot of it too. And Noah staged it.”

“I know,” Otto said with a smile at Noah. “I already tried to steal him from you.”

Noah laughed, and he touched my arm as he said, “Howie, Otto thinks you’d be a great fit for some of their projects.”

“Really?” I said.

“Really,” Otto said. “Look, I don’t know you. I haven’t worked with you. But I like what I see—this wasn’t just a cosmetic job. You guys did the work right, and you did it from the ground up, and it shows. Our clients expect us to deliver a modern, inviting aesthetic while also preserving the historic integrity of the house. Our firm is about quality work—done right, not fast. I know now’s not the time, but I wanted to meet you, say hello, let you put a face to my name. And when you have a few minutes in the next week or two, I’d love to sit down with you and talk about a couple of projects we’ve got on the horizon.”

Noah was practically glowing.

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

“Fantastic,” Otto said. He shook my hand. He squeezed Noah’s arm, and his hand lingered a moment. “Great job, again. And thanks for your time.”

As soon as he was out the door, Noah squealed, bounced, and grabbed my arms. “Oh my God, Otto Pang!”

“Was he feeling you up?”

“Howie, who cares? Otto! Pang! Oh my God, this is exactly what we wanted! This is amazing!”

“Because if he was feeling you up, I’m going to kick his ass.”

For some reason, that made Noah laugh. A lot.

He was still laughing as I worked my way through the house, sweeping the last stragglers out the back with a cup of cider. Jonathan obviously wanted to linger, but Tracy—finally away from the piano after an ear-shattering version of “I Dreamed a Dream”—wouldn’t stop talking about rediscovering her music, and Jonathan gave up and bundled her in her coat and walked her out by the elbow.

I shut the door behind them, flipped off the porch light and turned around.

Noah was there, already sliding into a hug. “Otto Pang,” he whispered.

“You keep saying that, and I’m going to think we have a problem.”

He laughed into my chest, and I found myself running a hand through his hair, smelling roses.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good. Tonight was good.” I couldn’t help adding, “Right?”

“Tonight was amazing.” He was so warm against me. He fit just right. I almost didn’t hear him when he added, “I’m so happy for you.”

“For us,” I said.