Tate sighed. He’d asked the FAA that question that very morning. “No idea. Chen’s been here a week and is already itching to test out Stratos. He’s not the patient type.”
“Thankfully, you are the patient type. You need patience in this game. Speaking of impatient, how’s the kid?”
Tate heard the familiar sound of George munching the ice from his drink.
“Quinn’s the same. Always the same.”
His cousin was all work, no play. He couldn’t tell if she liked work that much or knew no other way to be. Tate, on the other hand, had no problem walking away from his many obligations. He yearned for his cabin. For the river. For the Cases, the family next door whom, excepting Quinn, he liked better than his own. Matt had been his best friend growing up, but that relationship had been easy to walk away from too when he’d denied Tate the role of CEO in his own damn company.
“I feel bad for her. I think her life would be a lot easier with a partner.”
“She has a whole team,” Tate pointed out.
George scoffed. “I meant a life partner, T. Relationships are always the furthest thing from your minds.”
Tate actually did think about relationships, but thinking was the sum total of the venture. He could never be sure if a woman wanted him for his name, his money, or himself. He’d given up sifting through silt to find gold.
Tate didn’t believe in love. Not for people like him. He knew only two genuinely happy couples, neither in his own family: the Cases, Jenny and Donovan, and George and his wife, Wendy. His parents were excellent business partners, but he’d never seen evidence of more. A happy marriage wasn’t part of the path the Geiers walked, not the culminating goal in life like it was for others. No, in his family, you took your place in line and contributed to the legacy. People partnered up, but not for love. Blessed with everything, yet totally alone. Nearly all of them. That was the Geier family curse.
Tate’s future was tied to the business, like everyone who had come before him over three generations. At least he loved OrbitAll and was uncannily skilled at his job. He hadn’t let himself want more. Why fight fate?
3
Rosie chose a teal dress with a thin black belt and swishy skirt for her interview with OrbitAll. She tugged on the hem of the snug black blazer as she studied herself in the floor-length mirror. The full skirt gave her shape where she had none and still showed some of her yoga-toned calves.
She smoothed a hand over her red-gold mane and slipped into faux snakeskin pumps. Despite the many texts from Elle gushing about OrbitAll and how easy the interview with Tate Geier would be, nerves flourished. A heavyweight like the Geier Group in her corner would add real strength to Abode’s portfolio. And a hotel meant to dazzle everyday people playing at being astronauts? Dream project. She didn’t want to take anything for granted.
She locked the door to her second-floor apartment and took the elevator down to the courtyard. She’d chosen the funky complex in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood for the mural in the courtyard: an astronaut floating over some cacti. Two bedrooms and access to the best brunch spots in town didn’t hurt, either.
Her office was in a squat, older building on a quiet street near Balboa Park only ten minutes from her apartment. She greeted Anne, her office manager, as she walked in. They’d launched Abode a year ago, and Rosie still felt like she was walking on air each time she entered the space. Wide open, sunny, and designed around collaboration, Abode was the kind of place she’d always wanted to work. As the boss, she’d devoted one entire conference room wall to ideas for her pet project: tiny houses for the homeless.
The six people who made up Abode were already hard at work. Andrew, the other project manager besides herself, was of course on the phone. He was the other half of her brain and great at client management. Henry, the grandpa of the group, had defected from his much larger firm for a better work-life balance. Gigi, a sassy interior architect only a few years older than herself, had worked her way into Rosie’s heart—and onto her team—after bonding over their miserable love lives at a design conference mixer. Colton, their newest hire, was a recent college graduate and visualization genius. Rosie had hired him on the spot after he showed her what he could do with rendering software she hadn’t even known existed.
“How are the 3D videos coming along?” she asked him, perching on the edge of his desk.
Colton’s dark eyes didn’t move from his bank of monitors, giving time for Rosie to admire the intricate design shaved on the sides of his head. “Emailed you the QR codes, but here’s a backup just in case.” He pulled a USB drive out of his laptop and handed it over. “Knock ’em dead, boss.”
Rosie smiled. “That’s your job. Thanks for making this video a priority, Colton.”
She stood, slipping the drive in her purse as she went to grab business cards from her desk.
Gigi, who sat next to her, popped the AirPods out of her ears. She was sitting crisscross, a blanket over her lap. “Damn, Rosie. Looking fly AF.” She gave Rosie a toothy grin.
She glanced down at her outfit, smiling at the compliment. “Thanks. Wish me luck.”
“Don’t need to. I saw a cow in my tea leaves this morning.”
“Uh, that’s good?”
“Of course.” Gigi’s tone implied Rosie should absolutely know the meaning behind ruminants appearing in ceramic mugs.
“Okay, well, thanks. I’ll send an email later letting everyone know how it went.”
Andrew appeared at her side, hands shoved in the pockets of his khakis. “Just wanted to let you know we got the permit set back from the county on the Fallbrook project. No comments.”
He tried to stifle a grin as Rosie let out a surprised laugh. “That’s amazing.” No comments meant her team had done everything right the first time, followed every code to the letter. No comments was not easy to achieve, especially on a drawing set as complex as a residential building. “Well done.”
He nodded. “Good luck today. I don’t need to tell you this hotel would be our most important project and client. No pressure.”
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Thanks. I’ll see you all on Monday.”
She approached the front desk, where Anne held court like the royals with her same name. She played sentry, mother hen, and living, breathing organizer of Rosie’s professional life.
Anne handed over the bound qualifications package of their work to leave with Tate Geier. “Traffic is light. You should get there right around one o’clock.”
“Thanks, Anne.” Rosie dropped her voice. “Can you have some donuts delivered here in a bit? Let’s celebrate the Fallbrook set. And tell everyone they can leave early today.”
Anne nodded briskly. “Do you have the iPad? Laptop? Business cards?”
Rosie smiled at the matronly woman who had been clucking over her since the day Rosie had confided her history. Though she preferred to keep her past a secret, as their front line, Anne needed to be aware of certain undesirable people. After that uncomfortable conversation, Anne had gladly taken on the role of buffer and then some. She could be fiercely protective when it came to Abode and to Rosie.
“I’ve got what I need. Have a great weekend.”