Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,8

so dramatic,” he says. “Who knows? You may actually enjoy working with me. Stranger things have happened.”

The most obnoxiously smug expression clouds his face. He knows the thought of having to work with him directly is making me crawl out of my skin, and he loves it.

“Fat chance,” I say.

“Give it time. I’m quite charming.”

“You’re not. Believe me. I know charming, and you absolutely are not it.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really? And what’s charming, Emmie?”

“The exact opposite of you.”

He crosses his arms, still facing me. I’ve still got my nose in the catalog, trying to demonstrate it’s more interesting than him.

“Is that so?”

I drop the catalog on my lap, tilting my face up to him. I may be sitting, but we’re in a standoff for sure. Our stiff posture and scowls make us look like two cowboys aching to draw our guns and blast each other away.

“It doesn’t even matter. When we’re together, it’s always a complete disaster.”

His face drops. I can’t put my finger on his expression, but it is no longer smug.

“I see,” he says quietly before clearing his throat. Stepping away from my doorway, he walks the few paces to his office.

I flip back around to my computer. We don’t say a word to each other the rest of the day. An email pops up on my screen. Tate sent me a meeting request to talk about Nuts & Bolts’ charity work promotion project tomorrow afternoon. My first instinct is to decline, but it will just postpone the inevitable. We have to work together whether I like it or not. I reluctantly click “Accept.”

three

Photo op?” Tate pins me with an incredulous stare. “You can’t be serious.”

I bite back the curse I’m aching to let loose and settle deeper into the chair that’s shoved in the corner of his office. “What exactly is wrong with that? We take a photo of the family one of the days that they come to see us building the house, then post it on social media. I can include it with the press releases I send to media outlets too.”

“It’s pretty damn invasive.”

I crumple the paper that’s covered with my ideas. Twenty minutes into our first official one-on-one meeting for the charity homebuilding project, and I’m already fighting the urge to flip his desk. He’s shot down every single one of my suggestions so far. How will we manage these meetings once a week as Lynn requested?

“How would it be invasive? We would ask the family’s permission, of course.”

I aim for the wastebasket, but the crumpled ball of paper lands a foot away. Tate rolls his eyes, then leans over to throw it in.

“You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“How about instead of trashing my ideas, you come up with something.”

I glance at his yellow notepad, which is covered with red ink. Red is for correcting. What kind of savage writes in red ink?

He drops his pen on his desk. “Did it ever occur to you that this family might be intensely private? Yeah, we can ask to take a photo of them to distribute for media purposes, but they might feel like they can’t say no. We’re the ones building their house, after all. Maybe they don’t want their faces plastered all over Twitter and Facebook.”

I frown, but inside I’m thinking that’s actually a good point. He didn’t have to be so cruel in his delivery, though.

He tilts his head to the side. “This family has little kids. School-aged kids. What if their classmates see them on social media, and they make fun of them for being poor?”

I shake my head. Given how I grew up, I should have thought of this.

“Fine. No photo of the family. But I think posting photos of Nuts & Bolts employees working on the site would be good press.”

“If you insist.” His hardened face accompanies the uncaring shrug he gives me. “I’m of the opinion that it would be better to convince the Nuts & Bolts owners to make a donation for the kids’ college fund after the home is built. We post about that on Twitter and Facebook, it’s an instant hit.”

I frown at my notepad. “Doubtful.” It comes off more like a scoff than the mutter I intended.

“Oh, that’s a helpful reaction.” His face turns red. “Any other brilliant ideas?”

“Nope. I’m done.” I bolt up from the chair and dart back to my office.

I hit the space bar on my keyboard until my screen springs to life. Out of the corner