on the dotted line. It seemed like a fair amount—and a fraction of what I’d pay in Chicago.
Jordan scratches his jaw. “Not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
“And I’m not sure why it matters. There was a vacancy that the owners were all too eager to fill.”
“Because no one can afford to pay the lease.”
I serve him a scowl. “All the more reason for me to take advantage. Are you suggesting I should’ve set up shop in a dark corner somewhere?”
He shakes a finger at me. “Ah, there’s the big boss who doesn’t accept any flack.”
“You sound surprised, regardless of my name hanging on the door.” I gesture to the complimentary sign that was included in my purchase. Staking my claim is unnecessary, but I appreciate the gesture.
Jordan chuckles. “Damn, who sharted in your Wheaties?”
“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question.”
His laughter booms louder. “How did I become the bad guy?”
“We could start with the reason behind this spontaneous visit.” I toss his words back at him with a sneer.
“All is on track with Sunny Skies?”
“Yes.” The reassurance is automatic. “Thanks again for the tip.”
He nods, his grin managing to stretch further. “No problem, man. I’m glad to be of assistance.”
I wait a beat, giving him the courtesy to state his actual purpose. “Is that all?”
His mirth dims with a sigh. “Just checking on you, locked away in this ivory tower. I worry about your sanity, man.”
“That’s entirely unnecessary. This is business as usual.” I’d almost think he’s joking if his presence could be ignored.
“While that might be true, it doesn’t stop me from caring.”
My glower reaches record-breaking status. “You’ll still get a percentage if I go belly up.”
He shakes his head. “Now you’re insinuating I’m only interested in your money.”
“I won’t take it personally,” I reply.
“Well, that doesn’t make two of us.” He stares at me for a moment. Picturing the thoughts rattling in his brain is enough to haunt my already gruesome nightmares. “Do you have a woman, Winters?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Do I look like the type to engage in small talk? Who the hell is this dude? “Please enlighten me on when I would have time to entertain such frivolous affairs.”
“It doesn’t have to take long. I assume a man in your position isn’t too keen on commitment. Even so, separating your personal life from work requires a healthy balance.” His relentless ramblings grate on my simmering temper.
I press my lips into a firm line as the fever stirs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but having an authentic relationship that isn’t reliant on financial factors doesn’t exist in my world.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It really isn’t. Trust me when I say that remaining single is the less complicated alternative.”
“Aren’t your parents hounding you for grandchildren?”
The mere suggestion of them in any nurturing role is almost comical enough to make me smile. Almost. My father being six feet under ruins the humorous image. I let a snarl curl my upper lip. “Didn’t yours teach you to avoid personal topics that might cause discomfort?”
He scoffs. “Don’t bullshit me. Nothing ruffles your feathers.”
It appears that way on the surface, of course. The truth remains hidden under a custom suit and decades of suppressing emotions. I tug on my tie, the damn knot suddenly choking.
“It’s a necessary evil. Comes with the territory.” I said something similar to Vannah yesterday. That sentiment describes most of my existence.
He swats at the air as if it annoys him. “Fine, whatever. That doesn’t mean you can’t get laid.”
“I never claimed otherwise.”
His eyes gleam and I brace myself for another onslaught. “So, you do have a girl.”
“If I say yes, will you leave?”
“Not yet. Tell me about her.”
“There’s nothing to share.”
“Ah, clamming up on me? I get it—you’re not one to kiss and tell.”
I spread my arms out, scattering papers in all directions. “What gave you the impression I would?”
“We’re bonding, man. Talking about chicks is a gateway.”
“To what? We’re not frat brothers.” Calling him my acquaintance is being generous, but I’m strongly considering cutting him off after this stunt.
Jordan leans forward, resting an elbow on his thigh. “I get the hint I’m striking a nerve.”
“What was your first clue?”
He holds up his palms in an act of surrender I wouldn’t bet fifty cents on. “Okay, discussing ladies is off-limits. Noted.”
“Add every other subject to that list as well,” I mutter.
“You need to take a load off, man. I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and I can feel the