Free Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) by Gretchen Galway

sound so surprised?” He rotated in his chair, tugging both lapels of his jacket. “Is it my fancy suit?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Two hundred bucks,” he said. “Season clearance.”
    “That’s still more than I spend on my outfits,” she said.
    “But I get to wear this almost every day,” he said. “The average woman’s wardrobe has very poor value if you factor in all the costs. I did a report—” He cut himself off. What was he doing? Bragging about how much he enjoyed writing financial reports? That one hadn’t even been for school. He’d done it for fun . Instead of, as a normal guy might do, watching football or having sex with pretty girls.
    Like her.
    He cleared his throat. “Anyway…” His mind blanked. What had they been talking about? His suit. Ice cream. Women. “I should get back to work.”
    “By the way, which department will you be in this week?” she asked. “The assistant designers will ask me at lunch. If I keep feeding them secrets about you, maybe one of them will invite me to her birthday party.”
    The deadpan tone in her voice made him smile. “Do you want them to invite you?”
    “I do love pony rides,” she said with a wink. Then, flushing, she rotated away from him. “You’re not the only one who should get back to work.”
    He stared for a moment at her back, encased in that black tank top. “I’ll be in the Men’s department this week,” he said.
    She nodded but didn’t turn around. The software, which he’d learned was where they inputted their colors for the artwork they needed for different lines, appeared on her screen. “I haven’t met the Men’s designer yet,” she said. “Darrin. I think I saw him last week at the coffee truck, though. He didn’t look as scary as the stories about him.”
    “Scary?” he asked.
    “Is that why you’re doing his department while he’s in New York?” she asked. “To avoid him?”
    His stomach fell. “Darrin is in New York today?”
    “All week.”
    He shifted gears. “Then I’ll go to Women’s. It’s higher profile, and—”
    “The Women’s designers are in New York, too. That’s why the vibe is so relaxed around here today.”
    “Right after Thanksgiving?”
    “I know. I think they’re just expensing their family vacations, but Jennifer and Darrin always get away with murder.” She spun around and pointed at him. “Don’t quote me on that. I’m new. They’re wonderful. Creative geniuses. Quote me on that .”
    He pulled up his calendar on his phone, cursing himself for being so caught up in family—his dead wife’s family—drama, he’d neglected some basic planning legwork. “When will they be back, do you know?”
    “Next Monday.”
    “Damn it,” he muttered.
    “You could invade the trim office,” she said. “Without zippers, there would be no Fite TrakrJak. That’s the big silhouette this year, I found out. I’m working on the screen print for that sucker right now.” She pointed at her screen. “Really going out on a limb, too. Fite in big letters. I’m a genius.”
    Me, too , he thought. A goddamn genius . “Guess I’ll sit here another week, then.” His voice was grim, but his body warmed at the thought.

Chapter 7

    W HILE SHE WORKED ON THE third Fite logo color revision of her morning, April felt Zack sitting behind her at his desk, tapping away at his laptop.
    She glanced over her shoulder. Was it possible the consultant had the hots for her? Or was she doing some terrible freelancer thing that was going to end up in his report? Something was going on inside that handsome head of his, she wasn’t sure what.
    She transformed the three-inch letter F on her screen to neon green. It would be easier to ignore the tempting idea of repressed sexuality coming at her across the beige commercial carpeting if her work were more interesting. Next week, Rita had promised, she’d start training her on FreePeat, the textile design software, but for now April was stuck with reworking block