Chasing You Back

Chapter 003 - The Tech Guy with a Smirk

Joyce Bowen had survived worse than Xander Wyatt. There was that client in Chicago who'd demanded a "feng shui-compliant" office with a waterfall in the break room—during a drought. And the guy who'd insisted on a neon pink conference table because it "matched his aura." Compared to those disasters, Xander's nitpicking was child's play. Annoying, sure, but manageable. At least, that's what she told herself as she stepped off the subway at 34th Street, her bag slung over her shoulder and her coffee cup clutched like a lifeline.

Wyatt Innovations loomed ahead, its glass facade glinting in the morning sun like a smug beacon. Joyce had spent half the night tweaking her design—swapping the cobalt blue for a graphite gray that still had a kick, sketching a tech-infused accent wall that could double as a whiteboard, and throwing in a few modular lounge chairs for good measure. Bold, not safe. She'd even added a snarky note in her draft: For the guy who thinks gray is edgy. If Xander wanted to play critic, she'd give him something to chew on.

Inside, the receptionist waved her up with the same perky efficiency as yesterday. Joyce rode the elevator to the tenth floor, mentally rehearsing her comeback lines. "Not bold enough? Try this on for size, Wyatt." She smirked to herself, stepping into the hallway—and nearly collided with a guy in a hoodie carrying a stack of laptops so high she couldn't see his face.

"Whoa, watch it!" he yelped, teetering as the top laptop wobbled.

Joyce grabbed it just in time, thrusting her coffee into her other hand. "Sorry! You okay?"

The guy peeked over the stack, revealing a mop of curly brown hair and a grin that screamed caffeine addict. "Yeah, thanks. You're the design lady, right? Joyce?"

"Uh, yeah." She handed him the laptop, eyeing him warily. "And you are...?"

"Noah Parker," he said, shifting the pile to shake her hand awkwardly. "Tech support. Resident genius. Xander's personal headache. Take your pick."

She laughed despite herself. "I'll go with genius. You're braver than me if you're dealing with him daily."

"Oh, he's not so bad," Noah said, shrugging. "Just don't touch his coffee stash. Last guy who did got reassigned to the basement server room."

"Noted," Joyce said, filing that away for future blackmail. "Good luck with... all that."

Noah saluted with a laptop and shuffled off, leaving her to face Xander's office alone. The door was open again, and this time he was pacing, phone pressed to his ear, barking something about "deadlines" and "beta testing." He spotted her mid-sentence, waved her in, and wrapped up the call with a clipped, "Fix it by Friday or find a new job."

"Charming," Joyce said as he hung up, dropping her bag onto the chair. "Motivational speaker of the year?"

Xander smirked, tossing the phone onto his desk. "Only when they deserve it. You're early. Eager to impress me?"

"Eager to shut you up," she corrected, pulling out her tablet. "I've got your 'edge.' Revised and ready. Try not to cry when you see how good it is."

He perched on the desk's edge again—did he ever actually sit in a chair?—and motioned for her to go ahead. "Floor's yours, Bowen. Dazzle me."

She swiped to her updated slides, projecting them onto the wall. "Okay, here's the deal: graphite gray accent wall with embedded LED panels—dynamic, not dull. They sync with your team's workflow: blue for focus, green for brainstorming, amber for chill time. Modular desks with wireless charging and a flip-up whiteboard feature. And these—" she zoomed in on the lounge chairs—"recliners with built-in USB ports and a sleek steel frame. Bold, functional, future-proof. Thoughts?"

Xander studied the slides, his smirk fading into something closer to curiosity. He tapped his chin, then pointed at the chairs. "Those are cool. Practical, too. But the gray—still feels flat. What if we punched it up with a metallic sheen? Silver or gunmetal?"

Joyce resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Barely. "Metallic sheen? You want your office to look like a spaceship or a nightclub?"

"Why not both?" he shot back, grin returning. "My team's young, scrappy—they'd eat it up. Come on, Bowen, live a little."

"Live a little?" She crossed her arms, stepping closer to challenge him. "This isn't a rave, Xander. It's a workplace. Silver screams 'I'm trying too hard.' Graphite's subtle but sharp—lets the tech shine."

He tilted his head, considering. "Subtle's fine for a library. I'm running a tech empire here. Give me sharp and loud."

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. I'll mock up a gunmetal version. But if it looks like a rejected Star Trek set, you're explaining it to your team."

"Deal," he said, hopping off the desk. "You're fun when you're mad, you know that?"

"Flattery won't save you," she muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. He was impossible—and annoyingly good at making her want to argue just for the hell of it.

He grabbed a marker from his desk and strolled to a whiteboard on the wall, sketching a rough outline of the office layout. "While you're at it, let's tweak the floor plan. I want the lounge area closer to the windows—better light, better vibes."

Joyce joined him, snatching a marker of her own. "Windows are prime real estate. Desks should get dibs—your coders need sunlight more than your couch potatoes."

"Coders wear hoodies and live in the dark," he countered, drawing a rectangle labeled "lounge" by the glass. "Lounge goes here. Trust me, it's morale gold."

"Morale gold?" She erased his rectangle and redrew it near the back wall. "Desks here. Productivity trumps napping."

He stared at her revision, then erased it again, redrawing his original spot. "Lounge. Windows. Non-negotiable."

She glared, marker poised like a sword. "You're such a control freak."

"And you're stubborn as hell," he said, smirking again. "Guess we're a match made in heaven."

Joyce froze, her marker squeaking against the board. A match? Her brain short-circuited for half a second before she recovered, scribbling over his layout with exaggerated slashes. "More like a match made in purgatory. Fine, lounge by the windows—but I'm adding a partition so your nappers don't distract the coders."

"Deal," he said, stepping back to admire their chaotic whiteboard masterpiece. "See? We're already a team."

"A team where I do all the work," she grumbled, capping her marker. "You're lucky I'm good at this."

"Lucky's an understatement," he said, and the way his voice dipped made her glance up. His eyes locked onto hers, that smirk softening into something she couldn't quite read—something that made her stomach flip again, damn it.

She cleared her throat, turning back to her tablet. "Right. I'll get the gunmetal mock-up done by tomorrow. Anything else, boss?"

"Boss?" He chuckled, leaning against the whiteboard. "I like the sound of that. But yeah, one more thing—meet me at the break room tomorrow, ten a.m. I want your take on the coffee setup. It's part of the vibe."

"The coffee setup?" She raised an eyebrow. "What am I, your barista consultant now?"

"Think of it as a bonus gig," he said, winking. "You're the only one I trust not to poison it."

She snorted, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Wyatt. Ten tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he called after her as she headed for the door, that smirk back in full force.

Out in the hallway, Joyce let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Noah shuffled by again, this time with a single laptop and a donut. "Surviving the boss?" he asked, mouth full.

"Barely," she said, grinning despite herself. "He's a nightmare."

"Yeah, but the fun kind," Noah said, waving the donut as he disappeared around the corner.

Joyce shook her head, stepping into the elevator. Fun wasn't the word she'd pick. Maddening, maybe. Or magnetic. Either way, Xander Wyatt was trouble—and she was starting to suspect she didn't mind it as much as she should.