"Sydney. This is Morgan-she's new in town, too."
Morgan nodded at her. She wondered if Raven was more Caleb's type. She definitely didn't wear white, or scream relationship, or seem like a control freak. The thought depressed her.
Raven pushed two menus over. "I updated some of the apps. Wanna switch to a booth or eat at the bar?"
"Here's good," Morgan said. There was something so deliciously decadent about eating in an informal setting. She remembered all those years of perfect china and place settings and crisp linen napkins from her parents' tutelage. It wasn't a bad thing to know, but how badly did she crave to eat in front of the television or with plastic cutlery for a change? Her mother would have a breakdown if she knew her only child now frequented drive-throughs and usually ate room service in front of the TV. Her Southern roots embraced big dining tables and proper eating utensils. Her rebellious years got wiped out when she got her diagnosis of cancer. While her friends partied and dealt with college romances, she'd been in a hospital and had a long recovery. Of course, she tried to make up for it later, but by that time she'd been involved with Elias, and he frowned on frequenting bars. Now she finally had a valid opportunity.
"You got it," Raven said. She lingered, her gaze touching on the white wine, then flicking back up to her face. "I stock a decent label, but I specialize in cocktails. I can make them whiskey based, rum, vodka, champagne . . . Wanna try one?"
Morgan looked down at her glass. The last time she drank anything but white wine was . . . well, it was . . . well, maybe never? She nibbled on her lip. "I'm not sure what I like," she finally said.
Raven gave a slow grin. "Can't have that. I need a virgin palette to test some brews. I'll get you a few samples on the house." She turned to Sydney. "You in?"
Sydney rubbed her palms together. "Hell yes."
Raven laughed. "Great. Excuse me." She went to serve two older guys who already seemed halfway bombed. She rolled her eyes at their literal come-ons but poured them a drink. After a great debate over the menu, Morgan decided on a veggie wrap with sweet potato fries.
"So, how's it really going?" Sydney asked. Her green eyes lit with curiosity. "Are you and Caleb getting along?"
Morgan called on all her power not to flush. She didn't want Sydney to know about her boss's intriguing offer. Business matters needed to be kept separate from personal, and my, this was personal. "I think we reached an excellent balance," she recited. "He runs his team with competence. They respect him. And he keeps a tight ship, which I admire. There should be no problem meeting our completion date."
A delighted grin curved her new friend's lips. "Oh, my God, you're hot for each other!"
Her fingers jerked around her glass. "What? I didn't say anything about that."
"I know, that was the sign. Every woman who meets any of the Pierce brothers can't help talking about how gorgeous they are, or hot, or asking questions if they're single. You? Nada. Classic denial and cover-up from a female perspective."
Morgan sighed. "Fine. He's hot. But this project means a lot to me, and I don't want an attraction to mess anything up. This is a small town, and I also don't need to be the center of gossip. Make sense?"
Sydney nodded. "Absolutely. Emotions run high on a job site, and I know your deadline is tight." She tilted her head in thought. "Cal is a good man, though. He's not a game player or a liar. It's been a long time since I've seen him in a relationship, because he focuses so much on work, but you couldn't pick better if you're interested. Of course, I also understand what you mean about small-town gossip. It can be hard." Her tone held just a hint of bitterness.
Raven swooped in, took their orders, and placed two flutes on the bar. "Try a Sweet Hot Chris. It's champagne based. Flavors are lemon and orange, with aromatic bitters."
Morgan lifted the glass and took a sip. The crisp bubbly liquid danced in her mouth, and the sharp, citrusy flavors exploded on her tongue. Delicious. The best cocktail ever. "This is amazing," she finally said, taking another sip.
Sydney agreed. "Dear God, I could drink this every day."
"Good. Didn't want to waste this cocktail on my current crowd." The rowdy college students let out another roar as one of the guys began chugging his beer. "Drink it slow if you're not used to it."
"How'd you get the name?" Morgan asked curiously.
Raven winked. "I'm in lust with Chris."
"Husband? Boyfriend?" Sydney asked.
"Hell no. Pratt, Hemsworth, Pine, Evans. Get the picture?" She disappeared into the kitchen with a sway of her hips that was all natural and not an ounce of fakeness. Morgan sighed. Yep. She officially had her first girl crush.
Sydney shook her head. "What were we talking about again? The cocktail melted my brain cells. Too good."
Morgan laughed. "Small towns. Gossip. I know exactly what you mean. Some of the locals in Charleston spread the news even before things happened, almost as if they sensed it coming." She took another sip of champagne and probed gently. "It must be difficult being a single mom in a small town."
Shadows crossed her new friend's face. Morgan sensed there were secrets buried deeper than the marshes where people buried bodies never to be found. "Yes, but worth it. Every time I look into my daughter's face, filled with joy and mischief, I remind myself I wouldn't have my life any other way. Caleb helped a lot. He gave me time off, kick-ass medical benefits, and flex Fridays. Becca is a happy little girl. That's all that matters."
She wasn't surprised Caleb was good to his employees. His attractiveness only rose in her eyes each time she watched him deal with his team, lending a firm hand, a good joke, or a supportive ear. He cared, and that was rare in this business. Too often people were treated as projects, as if ranked by percentage of return on investment instead of as human beings.
Yeah. Morgan wanted him. His delicious proposition danced in her mind nonstop. Other than a few boyfriends and Elias, it had been a while since a man intrigued her. Was that a sign to take a risk? She pushed away the tempting thought and refocused on their conversation.
"I'd love to meet Becca," Morgan offered. "Maybe a girls' night in with Disney and popcorn?"
Sydney smiled. "She'd love that."
They fell into easy conversation, and by the time their plates were cleared and Sydney left to go to the bathroom, Morgan was relaxed by her two amazing cocktails and some belly laughs. She didn't notice the man sliding onto the stool next to her until he leaned over and spoke. "Enjoying your night?"
She glanced over. Average height. Nice brown hair, dark eyes, and gold-rimmed glasses. The business suit and clean fingernails bespoke a businessman stopping on his way home for a drink. Morgan judged him completely harmless. "Yes, thank you."
He nodded. "How was your day?"
How nice. Most men she met would never ask such a question, especially in a bar. Not that she'd ever spoken to men in bars. Bars were places for women who made mistakes. Morgan never made mistakes.
"Good. How about yours?"
He gave a long sigh. "Bad. Lost a client. Stressed to the max. I'm looking for something to help me relax."
She clucked in sympathy. "Workaholic?"
"Absolutely. You?"
"Absolutely." What a nice glow humming within her. Thank goodness Sydney was driving or she'd need to take a cab. "Maybe we both need to find ways to have more fun."
"That would be nice. My name is Robert."
"Hi, Robert. I'm Morgan. What do you do?"
"I work in finance. Stocks. High profit equals high intensity. You?"
"I build houses for people."
He leaned forward, his brown eyes gleaming with interest behind the frames. "Interesting. House is your code word, huh?"
Puzzled by his question, and the secret game he seemed to be engaged in, she nodded. "Sure, if you say so. What's your code word?"
He grinned. "Oh, I love the word house. Great choice."
Uh, okay. Morgan figured he'd had a liquid lunch, but what the hell, he'd had a bad day. "You like helping others? Making them happy?" he asked.
Morgan smiled. "I never thought about it like that, but, yes, I like making people happy."
"By . . . building houses?"
"Mostly. I like to match up a client with their fantasy house. Their satisfaction is the most important."
"That's good. Satisfaction is very, very good for a client." He touched her hand gently, as if emphasizing his point. "These fantasy . . . houses. Are they expensive?"
"Definitely."
"So, if I asked you to build me a house, how much would you charge an hour?"