Page 5

“I guess that’s true,” he remarks with a deepening frown.

“So, we’re going to do this?” I ask, pulling up his calendar on my phone. “You’re five minutes late for your meeting with a Mr. Samuels.”

“Shit,” Montgomery gripes when he jumps to his feet and gathers up his phone and my lighter from the desk.

With his long stride, he’s out the door a second later, not slowing up one bit when he calls out over his shoulder, “Are you coming or not, Kindling?”

“It’s Kendall, actually,” I say as I hurry to catch up to him. Only when we’re waiting for the elevator does it occur to me that he didn’t get my name wrong but is teasing me.

“Kindling because of the fire. Ha. That’s…hilarious.”

“Do you have a mini laptop or notepad hiding in your pocket?” Montgomery turns to ask me.

“Oh, crap.” I sprint back to Lily’s desk, opening the drawer where her stack of blank notepads is and grab one along with a pen from the cupholder on her desk.

I make it back to the elevator just as it dings and the doors open.

The day is going to turn around now.

Seven months full time in a temporary position.

That’s exactly the kind of arrangement I won’t let myself get attached to.

2

I have six pages of handwritten notes after the meeting since I jotted down every word that was spoken.

Recording meetings is apparently frowned upon by Montgomery, but then again, everything makes him frown.

“So, that was a productive meeting with the architect, right?” I remark in the quiet car on the way back to the office.

“Uh-huh,” Montgomery says from beside me while tapping on his phone. Of course, he doesn’t drive himself around Charlotte but pays someone else to do it.

After several minutes of being engrossed in his phone, he looks up from the device and says, “What did you wish for?”

“Huh?”

“When you were blowing out the candle that started the fire, what were you wishing for?”

I huff out a laugh. “Oh, I can’t tell you that. It’s personal. Besides, it won’t come true if I tell anyone.”

He looks disappointed for some reason, but I don’t cave.

Instead, I text Lily to thank her for the recommendation then ask how she’s doing and see if she needs anything.

Her response is instantaneous. I’m bored AF.

Smiling, I tell her I’ll drop by when I leave the office to keep her company if she’s up for visitors. She replies that I’m welcome to come over anytime.

“What do you have against music?” I ask Montgomery as we continue to sit in deadlocked traffic on Interstate 85 in silence, other than the downpour of rain.

“Nothing. Why?” he asks without glancing up from his phone.

“Could we listen to the radio? Music is good for the soul.”

“If you say so,” he mutters. Then, “Miles, do you mind?”

“Not at all, sir,” the driver says with a smile as he presses the buttons on the touchscreen. “Any requests?”