So Not My Thing - Melanie Jacobson Page 0,52

Street and my downstairs neighbor.”

“Wild.”

“Having second thoughts?” I was. But we hadn’t talked about that final moment at his house, and he’d kept a friendly distance ever since, maybe so he didn’t threaten the lease.

“Not even one,” he said. “But I’ve dreamed about this for a long time, and I can’t believe that signing on the dotted line makes it all start coming true even though I had to negotiate with terrorists.”

I snort-laughed. Miles had made every concession I’d asked for and then some. He was even comping my neighbor’s rent for two months to compensate him for the inconvenience of living over a construction zone. In fact, any time Miles had countered during negotiations, it had been to offer more than I’d asked for, which had driven Aaron straight up a wall.

“Yeah, well,” I said. “Let it be known that I’m a battle-hardened businesswoman, et cetera.”

Miss Mary had been adamant that we should lease to the Turnaround after Jordan stopped by for breakfast the morning after I met him. That was some dirty pool on Miles and Jordan’s parts, but it had been highly effective. “I know his mama and them,” she’d said. “Good people.” Nothing I could have said after that would’ve convinced her we should lease to anyone else.

It had taken two weeks to work it all out, two weeks of regular meetings to look over their design concepts from tile to table placement to wall color. I had to admit, Miles and the design team he’d hired were pulling together exactly the kind of place where Chloe and I loved to hang out. It was sophisticated but warm, an interior that understood the history of New Orleans with mixed use of reclaimed wood, velvet, and leather, but that also looked toward the future with clean lines, modern tables and chairs, state-of-the-art technology, and sustainable materials anywhere and everywhere Miles could work it in.

I’d spent most of those negotiations wanting to keep my distance from Miles entirely, but I also needed to be sure I was keeping my promise to the Bywater and making sure Miles’s vision fit the neighborhood. In fact, in one of those weird kismet moments, I’d ended up closing a deal on one of the properties up the street that Miles had rejected, and soon a new breakfast café would open, restoring balance to the Bywater.

It hadn’t been easy to keep it strictly professional every time Miles and I spoke or met to go over plans. But I’d survived.

I glanced at his hands where they rested on the table now as we sat at the back of Miss Mary’s. She and Jerome had already cleaned up and left for the day, but she’d assured me she had no problem with Miles and me meeting here to finalize the paperwork. His fingers were long and slender, easily stretching to cover two octaves. I’d watched him do it in his videos over and over again.

I kept a professional buffer between us every time we met, but I’d failed miserably in keeping myself divorced from his music. It was impossible. It was becoming the soundtrack to my life, and I knew I should worry, but I couldn’t help it. There was something about the way his melodies drifted into the corner of my mind, the way his lyrics pulled out and defined feelings I hadn’t put into words myself. About life. And home. And summertime. And dreams. And everything.

So far, Miles hadn’t seemed to realize that I was dangerously close to being as obsessed with him now as I had been at fourteen, and weirdly, once he became my tenant, I could see him less. He could come and go in the restaurant, and we never had to cross paths unless I chose to. My entrance was totally separate from his. Even our parking was separate.

I just needed to get through this signing, and then I could claim all the space I needed away from him.

“I’m teasing,” he said, concern in his voice, and I realized I’d been too quiet for too long. “You’re super easy to work with, and I’m thankful for it.”

“Can we do this?” Aaron asked. He’d been in the kitchen on a call, but he strode out now, looking impatient. “Let’s get the paperwork and get on the road. I have dinner plans.”

I wasn’t sure exactly how much of Miles’s business Aaron handled, but it didn’t seem like much. Miles had done all the negotiating and made all the decisions on terms,

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